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[Sarah1281]

Costin_Razvan wrote...

Oh, well she never actually buys that he's behind it all. That's just my current favorite explanation for what he tells people when he accepts her back into House Aeducan and so he can hurt House Harrowmont more.

At least you are going to side with Bhelen ( I assume ) and that's still something.....I suppose.

I never actually committed to that.

And I tend to disapprove of how negative, vicious, and ruthless your stories go but that's because we have different preferences.

Life's brutal like that. It's a jungle where only the strongest survives.

Yours is. That has yet to be my experience and even if it is one day I still am not a fan of depressing things.

[Raonar]

And that trading jabs thing was supposed to be a lighthearted comment too...



Ah well.

[Costin_Razvan]

Yours is. That has yet to be my experience and even if it is one day I still am not a fan of depressing things.

Was, but my viewpoint mostly stems from my studies into history. It's very brutal and bloody. ( in ancient times there was a Warrior Woman who slaughtered her way through Roman cities in her uprising in Britain, killing every woman, man and child )

[Sarah1281]

Costin_Razvan wrote...

Yours is. That has yet to be my experience and even if it is one day I still am not a fan of depressing things.

Was, but my viewpoint mostly stems from my studies into history. It's very brutal and bloody. ( in ancient times there was a Warrior Woman who slaughtered her way through Roman cities in her uprising in Britain, killing every woman, man and child )

I don't know nearly as much about history as you do, but I am aware of that. I think that it is tragic that it always seems to to turn out that way.

I'm also wondering, in all honestly, why you do keep reading this since so much about it bothers you. I know I would have long since stopped a story that bothered me that much no matter how well it was written (and often have). Does the fact that you hate my portrayal of an Aeducan give you motivation to write that you can't find elsewhere? 

[Costin_Razvan]

Figure since I started I might as well finish reading it....also there are things I do like about your story, namely shutting Wynne up.

Let's just say that I plan on something more drastic then a simple conversation to shut that old bat. It's not that I hate her, since I have dealt with someone almost exactly like her for years without hating, but by the Maker, Stone and Elven Gods it will be satisfying to shut her up.

Modifié par Costin_Razvan, 04 septembre 2010 - 07:59 .

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Three: Meeting the Candidates


Aunn, as she’d expected, received quite a few stares on her way back to Harrowmont’s estate accompanied by Harrowmont himself, particularly once they noticed the mark of Aeducan on her armor and shield. Some looked awed to see her alive, some looked angry, and still others masked their reaction. That was certainly a far less universally negative reaction than she had been expecting. She wondered vaguely why both her brother and Lord Harrowmont had just happened to be in the Commons surrounded by their followers when she had arrived as if she hadn’t shown up and successfully distracted everyone it was probably going to end in violence and while Bhelen had often gone wherever he felt like, it seemed strange to see Harrowmont outside of the Diamond Quarter when not on an expedition to the Deep Roads or at the Provings. Although given that one had to cross the Commons to get there perhaps that was it.
 
The minute they stepped into the Harrowmont estate, the reception turned universally warm…well, almost. It wasn’t a surprise when Harrowmont’s own House welcomed her given that their head was apparently still on her side. When Dulin Forender saw her, however, it was clear that he was displeased at her presence. In all likelihood he thought that Harrowmont was being reckless by inviting her into his estate without her having proved her worth first – and he was right – but while she hadn’t really decided on anything at least she wasn’t a spy for Bhelen. Well, not at the moment. Who knew what the future would bring? Of course Dulin wouldn’t complain about her presence and question Harrowmont’s judgment for bringing her here in front of her as, like she’d told her own companions, that would just show weakness.
 
“Welcome back to Orzammar,” Dulin said civilly.
 
Aunn smiled politely back. “Thank you.”
 
“Aunn and I have a lot to discuss so make sure that we are not disturbed,” Harrowmont instructed before leading Aunn into his study. Her companions made a move to follow her but she held up her hand to forestall them. Anything they needed to know she could fill them in on after the fact and them not actually being present was really the best way to make sure that they wouldn’t interrupt at the wrong time and hurt her position. Hopefully, they would behave themselves while she was busy and not scandalize anyone or inadvertently offend them.
 
“It is good to see you again,” Harrowmont said warmly. “I will admit that I wasn’t sure that I would.”
 
“I’m glad to see you again, too,” Aunn replied sincerely. “After all, if it wasn’t for you then I doubt I ever would have found the Grey Wardens so even in the unlikely event that I survived I wouldn’t have been able to come back here.”
 
“If you had to leave Orzammar, it is good that you managed to find a place on the Surface worthy of you and I can think of no place more worthy than the Grey Wardens. I see that you also found Gorim as well,” Harrowmont said with a nod at her shield. “It seems fitting that the long-lost shield of Aeducan should be used to end a Blight. Did you also receive your father’s letter?”
 
Aunn’s chest tightened although she was careful to keep her face impassive. All things considered, she wasn’t that surprised that he wanted to talk about her father even if she would prefer never having to have this conversation with anyone. “I did,” she acknowledged.
 
“Then you should know how much he missed you in his final days,” Harrowmont told her.
 
Aunn wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. From his letter, it had been clear that that was the case but it still didn’t make the situation any better although since Harrowmont had been a close friend of her father’s he would probably not appreciate hearing about how unimpressed she had been by the whole thing. “So the guard to the entrance told me that my father asked you to be his heir?”
 
Harrowmont nodded solemnly. “You have to understand that this was not an easy decision for him. He wanted to keep the throne with the Aeducans but after what happened to you and Trian he began to watch Bhelen more closely. He knew what a poor King Bhelen would make before the rest of us did. Unfortunately, your brother’s support is strong and so they needed someone well-known and well-established to oppose him. Your father was the first to ask me to succeed him and many of my colleagues have echoed his wishes. I have no intention of backing down when Orzammar needs me and I have yet to keep my promise to prevent Bhelen from profiting from his fratricide.”
 
“It seems like Bhelen has had a lot more time to gather support,” Aunn remarked. “Your position must be decent if you’ve been able to keep Bhelen from the throne for three weeks. I can’t wait forever for this to be settled, though, and Orzammar can’t afford to close itself off from the Surface indefinitely either. I have treaties that the Assembly wouldn’t ignore if things were different but as it is they’re too focused on the succession and only a King is required to aid me anyway. What do you need me to do in order for you to be able to take the throne in a timely manner?”
 
“The only certain path at this point is the support of a Paragon,” Harrowmont confided. “And Branka is still missing. My men are searching the Deep Roads for a hint of her whereabouts – as are Bhelen’s – but while a Grey Warden would stand a better chance than most, I need to strengthen my position here before worrying about tracking her down.”
 
“How do things stand?” Aunn inquired.
 
“The last vote was held yesterday and Bhelen and I each had forty deshyrs on our side,” Harrowmont informed her. “Bhelen’s support has been slowly falling and even some traditional Aeducan allies like Houses Helmi and Dace support me. Bhelen’s striking back, however. Later today there is going to be a Proving held in the memory of your father and my best two fighters have mysteriously dropped out of the fight and have offered no explanation. It seems likely that Bhelen’s behind this.”
 
Oh, losing a Proving would certainly cost some votes as no one liked to side against the Ancestors. “A Proving held in my father’s honor? Well, that sounds like just the kind of thing that I should enter to pay my respects to his memory. What were the names of the fighters that dropped out?”
 
“My cousin Baizyl and Gwiddon of House Torgan,” Harrowmont replied. “If you truly do decide to enter then I hope that the Ancestors favor you.”
 
Aunn inclined her head. “Thank you. The Proving will be my first priority, of course, as I only have so much time to convince Baizyl and Gwiddon to fight and to enter myself. Was there anything else short of finding Branka that you think I could help with?”
 
“Anything you come across that you think would help my cause would be much appreciated,” Harrowmont began, “but specifically…what do you know of the criminal carta?”
 
Aunn frowned. “Not much, to be honest. The casteless banded together to commit petty crimes, right? Illegal but pretty much below everyone’s notice.”
 
“That was indeed how things stood when you left,” Harrowmont confirmed. “But what you may not know was that ever since your father died, one of the carta leaders – Jarvia – has begun to operate openly. She is threatening and harassing honest people and the Assembly receives more petitions to deal with her every day. Unfortunately, everyone is far too busy trying to keep the peace while we sort out the question of succession to deal with her. If you were to neutralize her while working in my name then it would give me a definite advantage.”
 
“I’ve never actually been to Dust Town,” Aunn admitted. “Still, I’m sure that once there I should be able to find it easily enough. If nothing else, I can just start blatantly questioning people and wait until Jarvia sends someone out to kill me.”
 
“There’s something else you should know,” Harrowmont said almost hesitantly. “When Trian died you reported that you had been ambushed by casteless mercenaries and you believed that they were the ones to kill him, correct?”
 
Aunn nodded, wondering if he was going where she thought he was with this. “It stood to reason. After all, they had his signet ring and he clearly hadn’t been killed by darkspawn.”
 
“I believe these men to have been a part of Jarvia’s carta,” Harrowmont said quietly. “I know that he has had dealings with them before. There is no proof of this, of course, but there must have been correspondence between Bhelen and Jarvia’s predecessor Beraht. Bhelen would have undoubtedly destroyed any proof of his connection to them but the best way for the carta to avoid becoming expendable is to keep something incriminating. If you can find anything to connect Bhelen to Trian’s death then not only will it weaken his position but it should also work in your favor.”
 
Aunn thought about it. Being exiled? It really didn’t work for her. Yes, there was this Blight going on so even if she had returned to find out that everybody had changed their minds and she’d been reinstated then she’d have still needed to leave anyway but it would still make her time here a lot more pleasant and she wanted to come back after the Blight. Being a Grey Warden was fine for now and definitely the most important thing she could at the moment but once the Blight was over? Rebuilding Ferelden was really not something she was particularly interested in and neither was rebuilding the Ferelden Wardens. She certainly lacked the dedication and enthusiasm to be the best choice for the job, at any rate.
 
And then there was the fact that these casteless had killed her brother. It was at Bhelen’s order and had he been more convincing then she might very well have done it so it wasn’t like they had been the reason that Trian had died. Had they refused to get involved then he would have died another way. Just the same, there was a certain indignity for a prince of Orzammar to die at the hands of the casteless. Harrowmont was right: if the others found out exactly how Trian had been done away with then it would hurt Bhelen’s cause not only because he would have finally been caught but because he had involved the casteless. There was really no understating just how demeaning that was. And then, of course, there was the fact that these were the people who had done the crime that she had been exiled for. It didn’t really matter if logically she knew that Trian was going to die even had they not been involved because things hadn’t been different and so they were the ones to do the deed. Add that to the fact that she had actually been upset by his death and she had gained nothing from it and Aunn was really looking forward to wiping out the carta. As per usual, dealing out massive death and destruction always helped her recover her equilibrium. Fortunately, there was never a shortage of monsters or fools that needed killing.
 
“What is public opinion on me?” Aunn queried. “I take it that your supporters are less against me than those that support my brother?”
 
Harrowmont nodded. “Indeed. By this point, everyone believes one of three things. You were responsible for Trian’s murder, Bhelen was responsible, or you were both involved but he ultimately came out on top.” It went without saying that some thought she was innocent merely so they could blame Bhelen but, frankly, Aunn was fine with that. It was equally clear that if Harrowmont was managing to gain so much support despite his age, his lack of time to build a base of support in this matter, and the fact that he was more of a diplomat than a strong ruler then some of his support wasn’t necessarily because they wanted him to rule but because they wanted to keep Bhelen – and House Aeducan in general – off of the throne.
 
“I would have wanted to find proof of Bhelen’s involvement regardless but I may not have thought to look as diligently as I will now at Jarvia’s hideout,” Aunn remarked. “Proving Bhelen’s involvement won’t necessarily free me from suspicion, though.”
 
Harrowmont looked seriously at her. “Are you happy on the Surface? I, myself, would never be but there are others that feel differently and you are doing important work.”
 
“Why do you ask?” Aunn asked carefully.
 
“I will not insult you by making you promises that I do not know if I can keep,” Harrowmont told her. “The matter of your troops will need to be put before the Assembly, of course, but if you can help us settle this then I foresee no great difficulty on that front. If you manage to discredit your brother enough then there may be something I can do for you once I take the throne and there will definitely be something I can do should you defeat the Blight.”
 
Aunn would have preferred something a little more concrete than all of these maybes but she knew that Harrowmont liked to err on the side of caution and hated being unable to deliver. It was nice to hear that he wanted her to be able to return. “I understand the difficulties involved in that and let me tell you that, should the chance arise, I would take it. When does the Proving begin?”
 
“It should start in roughly two hours,” Harrowmont replied. Sensing that she was about ready to get started, he said, “I wish you luck and trust that you will do your father proud.”
 
Aunn managed a small smile before turning and heading back to her companions who were all standing exactly where she left them and looking incredibly bored.
 
“I hope that you’re a better person than your brother is,” Dulin said dubiously as she walked past. Honestly, Aunn did, too, although she really wasn’t certain.
 
Once they were outside of House Harrowmont, Zevran asked quietly, “What are we to do?”
 
“There is a Proving – and in case you don’t know what that is, it’s a fighting tournament – being held in my late father’s honor,” Aunn explained. “Winning it will increase Harrowmont’s prestige so I’m going to enter. I’m also supposed to see if I can convince Harrowmont’s top fighters to change their mind about sitting this Proving out and then go wipe out a criminal carta that may have actually been responsible for my elder brother’s death.”
 
Zevran frowned. “So this Harrowmont cannot even motivate his own followers to fight for him. Why are we supporting him again?”
 
“Because he likes me and I haven’t even gotten a chance to speak with my brother yet,” Aunn replied. “We didn’t really part on the best terms so I have no idea if working with him would even be feasible. If it is and I do then he’ll appreciate having a spy.”
 
“Indecision is a sign of weakness,” Sten complained. “Pick someone and stick to them. We are already wasting time.”
 
“I will,” Aunn promised. “Eventually.”
 
“When can we find out more about my origins?” Shale demanded.
 
“We’ll make sure to stop at the Shaperate at some point while we’re here,” Aunn assured her. “That will be our best chance of learning anything outside of the Deep Roads.”
 
“Will we have to go in there?” Morrigan asked, wrinkling her nose at the very thought.
 
Aunn thought back to what Harrowmont had said about needing to find Branka. “Probably.”
 
“Joy…” Morrigan muttered. “Where are we going?”
 
“The Assembly Chambers,” Aunn replied. “They’ll be too busy to hear anything I have to say now but chances are there will be one of Bhelen’s people there and I need to talk to him.” She shook her head. “You know, it’s kind of pathetic I need to get permission to see my own brother…”
 
There were two guards stationed outside of the Assembly Chambers. One of them stared impassively ahead as he was supposed to but the other started at the sight of her. “Oh, if only your father had lived to see you return…” he said wistfully. Aunn supposed that this meant that he supported her and so flashed an appropriately sad smile his way before entering the building.
 
The minutes she did she saw the man who had to have been Bhelen’s representative: Vartag Gavorn. Great. Just great. It was safe to say that Aunn hated Vartag and the feeling was more than mutual. Vartag hated her on principle, she believed, as well as for her – admittedly former – status as a noble far more powerful than he was through mere chance. Aunn hated him because he was so bitter and clearly up to something nefarious. She really wondered sometimes why Bhelen had chosen something like this as his second. Granted, he had House Gavorn’s undying loyalty and Vartag had no morals but unless he was looking for some sort of scapegoat…now that was an idea.
 
Aunn made sure to come close to Vartag while not acknowledging him in the slightest when he spoke. “So I’d heard that you’d returned to us, exile. What insult do you mean by coming here?”
 
Aunn blinked innocently at him. “Insult? My showing up in the Assembly Chambers is an insult? I’m sorry, do I even know you?”
 
Vartag’s eyes narrowed. “Please. You know exactly who I am.”
 
“If I did then why would I have asked?” Aunn countered reasonably. Well, other than delivering a calculated insult.
 
Vartag decided not to even bother arguing with her. “I am your brother’s second, Vartag Gavorn.”
 
Aunn could hardly pretend not to get House Gavorn’s name right without looking foolish but as for Vartag’s given name… “Vortog Gavorn? I’m sorry, I really don’t remember…”
 
“That’s quite alright,” Vartag said through gritted teeth. “If you had paid the slightest bit of attention to anything outside of your own immediate interests I’m sure you would have noticed me.”
 
As far as comebacks went, that wasn’t bad. “I really need to speak to my brother. Is there any way you can arrange that for me?”
 
Vartag snorted. “After the way that I heard you openly went off with Harrowmont earlier? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
 
As she’d intended, he took her silence as a ‘yes.’
 
“Why would my Lord possibly want to meet with you after the way you so brutally murdered Prince Trian only a few months ago?” Vartag demanded, crossing his arms. “And after you made it clear that you’re supporting the usurper Harrowmont?”
 
“I haven’t committed to anything,” Aunn claimed. And she hadn’t, really, since she was doing this before the Proving. “And while allowing me to meet with Bhelen may end with me supporting Harrowmont, not letting me meet with him will guarantee it.”
 
“You’ll need to prove that you’re not loyal to Harrowmont,” Vartag told her bluntly. “And I have just the way. By now, everyone has heard all about you meeting with Harrowmont within minutes of arriving back here. The logical assumption is that you’re on his side so if you were to, say, deliver to Lord Helmi and Lady Dace these papers showing how Harrowmont was promised the same land to both parties then they would believe you far more readily than they would believe me.”
 
Aunn accepted the proffered papers. “I’ll see what I can do.” She glanced down at them. They showed that Harrowmont did indeed promise the same land to House Dace and House Helmi. Audacious. The fact that Harrowmont bought their votes was almost painfully unsurprising but the question remained whether or not he would have attempted to sell the same land twice over. If he were absolutely desperate and had no more land to sell then perhaps she could see him doing so and hoping that no one would discover this until after he became King but it still wouldn’t be a good idea as he would forever have an enemy of one – or both – of two of the most powerful houses in Orzammar.
 
Of course, she wouldn’t put it past Vartag to simply have forged the promissory notes but that presented a whole different set of problems. The papers showed the same land being sold off so in addition to the fact that she could just go ask the Shaper about the matter – which she definitely would – then Lord Helmi (or his mother) and Lady Dace could go to the Shaperate themselves. Then, of course, there was the fact that Vartag’s plan would involve one or both parties to either outright not remember which lands they had been promised, which was almost unbelievably careless, or not even to bother looking at the papers. Granted, if she played it right she could probably get Denek Helmi too disillusioned and depressed to even care and so if the papers accurately showed what House Dace had been promised then it would be doable. Unfortunately, Lady Helmi might want to see these papers at some point and now she was actually going to have to talk to Lady Dace.
 
“That’s all anyone can ask,” Vartag said faux-virtuously. Stone, Aunn hated him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steward Bandelor exiting the Assembly Chambers looking incredibly exasperated. Without even bothering to say goodbye to her brother’s toady, she went up to the Steward.
 
“Stone-forsaken fools and dusters…” he was muttering to himself as she approached. As he glanced over at her, Aunn could see that his gaze was guarded. He had always liked her so chances were he was wondering whether or not the things that everyone had been saying about her since Trian died were true. “I’d heard that you had returned to us and also that you’re a Grey Warden now so we are to treat you with respect.” His tone was challenging. She knew how her father and even both of her brothers, different as they were, would have reacted.
 
She smiled instead. “Do as you will, Steward Bandelor. You always have.”
 
Bandelor’s gaze softened and he chuckled. Apparently she’d passed his test. “It’s just about the only perk to this position, child. Or should I say ‘Warden’? I’m glad to hear that you found someone up there on the Surface to make use of your talents.”
 
“And just in time for a Blight as well,” Aunn said dryly.
 
Bandelor sighed and cast a look back at the doors to the Assembly Chamber. “You know that darkspawn could be on our very doorstep – again – and they won’t do a thing until we have a King. Considering that the deshyrs are currently exactly evenly split and are plotting each other’s deaths in an even more obvious manner than before I think that that may be awhile. At least you were able to speak with one of the candidates already.”
 
“Ancestors willing, there will be a new King before I’m done,” Aunn said firmly.
 

 
Aunn could tell that her companions were getting a little annoyed at being neglected but in the face of being thrust back into the world of her past, it was all too easy to forget about them. There were a lot of differences, of course, in the way she was treated, in the freedom of movement she had, in the very people she was dealing with but even beyond that there was so much that was the same. It was a relief to finally have a roof over her again. She wouldn’t go so far as to say that she was afraid of the sky and she had long-since gotten over her dizziness when looking at it but it was still too sodding lonely for her to be comfortable with. The sky, especially at night, was an abyss and she could almost see why people feared falling into it.
 
Then there was the smell. She had never really noticed the smell of sulfur everywhere growing up but she had certainly noticed – and mourned – its absence. It was like coming home. She was home and maybe one day she’d be able to legally say that. Also, she’d noticed her companions looking a little uncomfortable at just how much their height set them apart from everyone else. That was fitting, as far as Aunn was concerned, because of just how annoying it could to always stand out by being the only dwarf practically anywhere she went. That was really why she had let Bodahn and Sandal stay with them. Bodahn had promised her a discount but if his inflated prices really were at a discount then she really didn’t understand how he could stay in business with such ludicrous prices.
 
Aunn was currently sneaking into her childhood home. There might have been complications had she just tried to enter through the main entrance and she doubt she could get to her brother without an altercation of some kind. Well, that might be inevitable anyway but at least there was going to be less of a mess getting there. There weren’t guards at this entrance because if there were then it would kind of give away the secret.
 
Now, while Aunn technically didn’t know where Bhelen was she was willing to bet anything that he was in their father’s room. Being in the throne room would have seemed too desperate, after all. She managed to take out one of the guards standing directly in front of the door before he noticed and the other before he thought to cry out. That done, she opened the door and walked inside.
 
“Your guards are worse than Trian’s were,” Aunn said by way of greeting. “At least it presumably took more than one person to bring them down.”
 
Bhelen, sitting at the desk, immediately stood, taking pains to hide his surprise. “You would know.”
 
“Oh, let’s not play games,” Aunn said, slightly irritated. “There aren’t any witnesses. And just so you know, the reason that they aren’t dead is more due to an inclination to kill them on my part than any great skill on theirs.”
 
“I do wonder how the Assembly would react to finding out that you’ve fought your way into the palace,” Bhelen said casually. “They do so look down on such blatantly brutish behavior.”
 
“I suspect that they would be almost as excited as they would be to find out how easy it is to get past your guards,” Aunn replied, her tone equally light.
 
“That’s certainly an interesting design,” Bhelen remarked, nodding towards the Aeducan emblem on her armor.
 
“Do you like it? I thought it was fitting,” Aunn said innocently.
 
“Why are you here, Aunn?” Bhelen demanded. “I know you’re working for the usurper Harrowmont.”
 
“I’ve yet to really commit to anything,” Aunn pointed out. “But that’s not really why I’m here.”
 
Bhelen raised an eyebrow. “Then what is?”
 
“I guess…I just wanted to hear what you had to say about it,” Aunn said quietly. She doubted that he could say anything that would make her feel better about what had happened but it was this morbid curiosity on her part. She had her theories, of course, but she wanted to hear it from him.
 
“What I wanted to say about what, exactly?” Bhelen asked. “The usurper trying to claim my throne? The rumors that I poisoned Father? Whether or not I’m really going to marry Rica?”
 
Aunn shook her head. “Tell me about Trian’s death. About my exile.”
 
Bhelen laughed darkly. “After all this time you’re still hung up about that? You really aren’t all that adaptable, big sister, are you? Fine. Let’s talk You and Trian were in my way. Trian was desperately trying to be father and only really managed to latch onto the preoccupation with tradition. You lacked the dedication that the King or Queen of Orzammar needs in order to manage the Assembly and to make their will a reality. Orzammar is dying. You know this, you have to know this. The darkspawn are beating at our doors – I’m sure you encountered plenty when you were exiled in the very Thaig we had just cleared a few days before – our people are abandoning us in droves for the surface and we systematically throw away a good sixth of our population because they didn’t have the right parents. We need change. Trian wouldn’t have brought that change, I honestly don’t know if you would have even taken notice of how desperate our need was, and Harrowmont certainly won’t bring any. Orzammar needs change. Orzammar needs me.”
 
As much as Aunn hated to admit it – and she really did hate to admit it – a lot of what Bhelen said had made sense. Things were pretty desperate but not desperate enough for people to actually notice it. Orzammar, if allowed to, would just continue to not notice its own problems until they did all wind up dead someday. That day may be generations off but it was still coming. He had even been right about her. She never had been able to make up her mind on whether she had even wanted the throne at all and a lack of dedication was dangerous. Orzammar needed a ruler, not a figurehead. “So that’s it?” she asked levelly. “You killed Trian and destroyed me for the sake of Orzammar? You’re not a sodding martyr, Bhelen.”
 
“And neither are you,” Bhelen countered smoothly. “And Trian was hardly an innocent victim, either. Do you remember when I told you that Trian was going to try to kill you? I was telling the truth. Surely you noticed the increased hostility? Granted, I first had to make him think that you were out to kill him but it's not like he was hard to convince. Our conversation basically went ‘Oh, dear. She may try to kill you.’ ‘Oops. Can't let that happen. Have to get to her first.’ Someone that prepared to commit sororicide does not have the moral high ground when one of their siblings kills them.”
 
“You say that like you weren’t the reason it even came to that,” Aunn said flatly. She wondered if Bhelen was telling the truth about Trian plotting to kill her. He probably was. After all, she had noticed an increased in hostility towards her shortly before his death (and had already suspected something of the sort) and that would explain perfectly why he had shown up earlier enough to be killed before even she had gotten there.
 
“It was always going to happen,” Bhelen said seriously. “I just…sped things up. I’m a patient person but I could see that Father’s health was failing. I had to act then. And you…I will admit you surprised me when you turned down the chance to kill Trian but let’s not pretend that that was anything more than what it was. You were being cautious, not moral. You wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t get caught; you wanted to make sure he really was plotting against you.”
 
“Even if what you said is true,” Aunn replied slowly. A lot of it was but not everything. He hadn’t seemed to realize that the reason she had wanted to make sure it was necessary was because she honestly hadn’t wanted Trian to die. “That doesn’t explain how you fit into the picture.”
 
“Had Trian lived he wouldn’t have been a threat to me,” Bhelen declared. “He never would have been able to see me as a threat. You, however…you appeared to grasp the fact that I wasn’t quite as stupid as Trian seemed to think I was.”
 
“It’s practically impossible to be as stupid as Trian seemed to think you were,” Aunn said wryly.
 
“No to mention the fact that you would have acted against me in a heartbeat if I hadn’t done it first,” Bhelen asserted, suddenly hateful. “The same way you turned everyone in the Assembly against Trian.” His expression turned crafty. “The same way our father – may the Ancestors bless him – convinced his elder brother to enter a Proving against a convicted murderer. Who do you think gave the murderer the poison to put on his blade? That’s just the way things are done here, Aunn. If you don’t like it then do you know what you’d need? Change. Change that I can provide.”
 
“Unbelievable,” Aunn said curtly, shaking her head. “You destroyed my life and suddenly I’m the one that you needed to watch out for?”
 
“You surprised me once,” Bhelen conceded. “Maybe you’ll do it again. The way I see it, there are only two possibilities. Either you would have acted against me and been a threat in which case what I did was in the name of self-preservation or you wouldn’t have in which case – while admittedly I misjudged you – I rather did you a favor because there is no way you would have been able to rule Orzammar with any effectiveness.”
 
Aunn laughed bitterly. “I love how a willingness to commit fratricide seems to be a requirement to take the throne now.”
 
“Well it’s not like I set the precedent,” Bhelen claimed. “Father did it, too, and I highly doubt that he was the first one.”
 
Aunn had heard of her Uncle Nuraim who had died in a Proving match a few years before she was born. He was the named prince while her father was only the second-in-line (maybe that similarity was another reason he had favored her, for all the good it had done) but something had happened and it turned out his opponent had been a criminal who had taken the opportunity to slaughter the heir. The criminal in question had gotten exiled to the Surface and her father had taken the throne from his own father, King Ansgar Aeducan. Yes, people had sometimes wondered – but never openly – whether Nuraim’s death really had been the tragic accident that everyone had said it was but nothing had ever been proven one way or another and it had taken place far too many years ago to matter now. “Father wouldn’t do that.”
 
“He was a second son who took the throne of Orzammar,” Bhelen said patronizingly. “Do you really think he did nothing underhanded?”
 
What was wrong with him? It didn’t matter and one simply didn’t bring these things up. Granted, their conversation was full of the kinds of things that weren’t normally mentioned but at least that was a little more recent and relevant to the succession crisis. “It is what I choose to believe.” Once again, what actually happened was less important than what people believed. So many years after the incident, the suspicion had pretty much died down. Aunn chose to believe that he hadn’t because, frankly, before her exile she hadn’t wanted to face the thought that he was capable of being so ruthless towards his family members as she was one of them. Now, she honestly wasn’t sure how much more disillusionment on the matter she could take. Bhelen almost needed to believe that their father had committed fratricide himself so as to lend justification towards his actions.
 
“I’m not surprised,” Bhelen said, his tone a little mocking.
 
“How far are you willing to go to get what you want?” Aunn inquired, staring straight at him. “Did you poison Father?”
 
“Would you believe me if I told you that I didn’t?” Bhelen challenged. “There was no need to. The fact that his health was failing was part of what prompted me to act when I did and his health only continued to fail with every week that went by after Trian died and you were exiled. He seemed to take your loss harder which is ironic as you’re the one he could have saved. While I was a big part of causing the grief that eventually killed him, my part in the matter was only indirect. He didn’t have to let me get away with it.”
 
“He almost didn’t,” Aunn retorted. “By all accounts he was starting to change his mind about you.” 
 
“It was never made official so he couldn’t have felt that strongly about it,” Bhelen said dismissively. “You’re going to fight in the Provings later today, aren’t you?”
 
“They’re being held in Father’s honor,” Aunn said shortly.
 
“Piotin is probably the only fighter entered who stands a chance of beating you. That said, I haven’t seen you fight for nearly a year so you may have surpassed him. You may win. That will cost me some support,” Bhelen mused.
 
“Do you have a point to this?” Aunn asked politely.
 
“I doubt I can talk you out of this and it won’t be a mortal blow anyway,” Bhelen told her. “This election is far from over. I will take the throne either way, big sister, but it will be easier to do if I don’t have to work against you.”
 
“What are you saying?” Aunn asked carefully.
 
“Help me take the throne and I will reinstate you on the spot,” Bhelen promised. “End the Blight and I’ll see that you become a Paragon.” That was more than Harrowmont had been able to offer and Aunn had no doubt that Bhelen could keep his promise. As the head of House Aeducan, he could admit or reject anyone he felt the need to. If she truly did help him then even he would have to concede that she was no longer in his way and so he probably would keep his word if only to make sure that she stayed agreeable.
 
“I’ll think about it,” Aunn told him.
 

 
When Aunn caught up with her companions again, she found out that they had been shopping in the Commons. Shale had fund several colorful crystals that she could exchange for her current ones, Zevran had purchased some shiny new daggers, and Morrigan had found some golden mirror she seemed oddly attached to.
 
“More detours?” Sten had demanded once she had announced that they were heading to the Shaperate. “This would not take nearly as long if you would just follow a straight path.”
 
“Sorry, Sten, but I need to get something looked at and Shale wants to find out more about where she came from,” Aunn explained. She wasn’t particularly sorry, however. She loved the Shaperate, always had. She had spent hours there as a child, unusual though that was, just reveling in the history of her people. She had always had a fascination with the Paragons and the tales of times past and in the Shaperate she could get her hands on whatever knowledge had been amassed over the years.
 
“To think! A thief in the Shaperate!” one of the scholars was lamenting when Aunn and company walked in.
 
This was a very serious charge and so Aunn stopped immediately. “What was that? Someone stole something from the Shaperate?” she asked, alarmed. That was appalling. It was the Shaperate. Someone took a part of their history that, unless recovered, they were never going to get back. How selfish and short-sighted could people possibly be?
 
“They did!” the scholar confirmed, sounding outraged. “Oh, what have we been reduced to since King Endrin returned to the stone?”
 
“Did you get a good look at him?” Zevran asked practically.
 
The scholar nodded. “He was a bald brand. He didn’t seem ashamed of this, though. He seemed to wear his like a badge of pride! He’s probably down in the slums, as if he’d find a buyer there. None of them could possibly understand what they have!”
 
Aunn had to wonder how, exactly, a brand had managed to get into the Shaperate in the first place since last time she had checked they weren’t allowed and it’s not like anyone bearing the mark of a casteless could move unnoticed through the Diamond Quarter. Were things with Jarvia really that out of control? “I’m probably going to need to go down there at some point. If I happen to find anything, I’ll make sure to look into it. This is just horrible.”
 
“Thank you,” the scholar nodded gratefully. “I’d go myself but I’m no fighter and I know that you’re capable, if nothing else.”
 
“We do not have time for this,” Sten growled. “We have a Blight to stop.”
 
“We need to go to Dust Town to deal with Jarvia anyway,” Aunn pointed out. “It’s really not that far out of our way.”
 
“Dealing with Jarvia is also a waste of time,” Sten insisted.
 
Aunn shrugged. “Well, we need to do it anyway.” She could see Czibor, the head Shaper, standing towards the back of the Shaperate, watching as everyone went about their business. She started to approach him when someone knocked into her, sending books flying everywhere.
 
“Oh, I am just so sorry!” the girl said, bending to try and retrieve everything. “Really, I am! I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.”
 
“Yes, it should have,” Shale said disdainfully.
 
“Here, let me help you,” Zevran volunteered, helping her pick up her books. “And who might you be, lovely lady?”
 
“My name is Orta,” the girl introduced.
 
“Orta?” Aunn asked curiously. “As in House Ortan?”
 
Orta nodded. “I was named after it, yes. I’m actually doing some research on the subject but…well, I’m sure you have more important things to do than to listen to my problems.”
 
“Oh, not at all,” Morrigan deadpanned. “Please, tell us all about your problems.”
 
Orta apparently didn’t pick up on her sarcasm as she promptly did. “Well, everyone knows that House Ortan fell during the last Blight. My mother’s family believed that they descended from Kelana Ortan who was training during Orzammar at the time. If I can find records proving this then I’ll be a noble and so will my whole family! I’d have my own house, a seat in the Assembly…” She sighed and trailed off. “The only problem is most of their records were in House Ortan and no one has even been there for centuries.”
 
“That does sound like quite a task,” Aunn noted. “And I wish you luck in it. I should warn you, however, that if you do become a noble…just make sure to watch your back. You seem like a nice girl.”
 
“Thanks,” Orta said with a smile and hurried off to one of the tables to study the records she’d grabbed.
 
Finally, they were free to go see Czibor.
 
“When I last walked this hall, Endrin was king and Orzammar was at peace,” he said wistfully. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes and that hurt more than Aunn was willing to admit. She had only been gone a year. “The Memories often speak of the swiftness with which change overtakes us, but it is different to see it firsthand. I apologize, Warden. I should not burden a stranger with such thoughts. I am Czibor, the Shaper of memories.”
 
“What is a ‘shaper’?” Sten demanded.
 
“The Shaperate guards Orzammar's knowledge. We have preserved in lyrium all of the records of dwarven history,” Czibor explained. “The Memories record all--they are how we know to which family a child owes life, how we trace lost Thaigs. They ensure we forget nothing of our past, good or bad.”
 
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Sometimes, things and people were completely erased and it was as if they had never existed. That was really the hardest part to face about her exile. “I am no stranger to Orzammar, my lord Shaper,” Aunn said quietly.
 
Czibor looked sad and finally Aunn could see proof that he did remember her. “Your exile is written in the Memories, Aunn. I am sorry, but Orzammar cannot be your home, nor I your shaper. We must all obey the ancestors' rules.”
 
“I…understand. I have some questions that need to be answered,” Aunn said impassively.
 
“What do you wish to know?” Czibor asked.
 
“Shale here would like to learn more of her origins so could you direct us to any knowledge available about golems?”
 
Czibor’s eyes widened slightly. “A golem? But of course. Gilo!”
 
One of the scholars came up to them. “Yes?”
 
“Take this golem, Shale, to the section on golems,” Czibor instructed.
 
Gilo also looked a little startled at seeing her but he simply nodded. “Right this way.”
 
Shale followed him along with Morrigan, Sten, and Zevran who apparently felt that that would be more exciting than the conversation they had been listening to. Trian stayed with her although chances were he wasn’t paying any particular attention.
 
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell your golem?” Czibor asked a little hopefully. “We do have a need for them here in Orzammar.”
 
“Shale has a faulty control rod,” Aunn explained. “That would just end badly. Could you take a look at these promissory notes for me? I have no reason to believe that they are anything less than genuine but it seems sensible to always make sure.”
 
“Let me see…” Czibor took the proffered papers and examined them closely. “These are Harrowmont lands promised here…But these are not the deals we approved at the Shaperate!” He sounded angry. No surprise there, to forge something from the Shaperate was quite the scandal. “Where did you get these?”
 
“Bhelen’s second – I’m afraid his name escapes me at the moment but he’s from House Gavorn – game them to me,” Aunn explained. “Do you mean to tell me that these are…fake?” She made sure to look shocked.
 
“Vartag Gavorn scripted these counterfeits?” Czibor demanded. “This is a very serious crime and I’m afraid the implications of it are even worse. I will have the Ministry of Lands begin an investigation into the Gavorns immediately.”
 
“I really didn’t mean to start anything quite so serious,” Aunn claimed. “I just…these papers are really forgeries? I can’t believe he lied to me…”
 
“These papers are not completely forged,” Czibor conceded. “There were two separate deals made between House Harrowmont and Houses Helmi and Dace but the terms were radically different. The forgery was to alter the dates and locations of the deals to make them identical.”
 
“This is horrible! To think that if I hadn’t thought to check then I might have caused all sorts of problems for Lord Harrowmont…” Aunn shook her head. “I’m going to need to being having words with someone.”
 
“I do hope you realize that you are not completely outside of the law,” Czibor cautioned. “Try not to do anything that will further challenge the stability of Orzammar.”
 
“When things get out of hand, sometimes the only thing you can do to fix them is to keep pushing until you reach a new stability,” Aunn replied.
 
Czibor was quiet for a moment. “You sound like Endrin,” he said finally.
 
Aunn nodded her acknowledgement and hid a smile. For all her issues with him at present, it was still nice to hear a favorable comparison. “Now, there was one more thing I was wondering about. From what I understand, though of course I’m no expert, Assembly votes are a matter of public record, yes?”
 
“Yes,” Czibor said slowly, unsure where she was going with this.
 
“Can I see one of the votes?” Aunn pressed.
 
“Which one?” Czibor asked.
 
“The vote deciding the fate of the one who killed Prince Trian,” Aunn declared.
 
“Are you sure you want to go down this path?” Czibor asked her seriously. “Some things are best left alone.”
 
“I’m sure,” Aunn said firmly.
 
Czibor sighed heavily. “I hope you know what you’re doing…Gilo!”

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Proving


Roughly half an hour later, Shale was finally convinced to leave the Shaperate behind as they did have a Proving they needed to eventually make their way towards. She vowed to be back, however, and Aunn had no doubt that she would keep that promise. Aunn herself had just about finished her research as well. There were eighty deshyrs in the Assembly. Aside from Bhelen who had taken Trian’s position, there were forty-two nobles that had condemned her. Some of them were surprising, some weren’t. It was a relief to know that none of the deshyrs that she had believed to have supported her were on this list of people who had conspired to ruin her life.
 
Aunn had even begun to piece together what, exactly, Bhelen had offered in exchange for their support by the time Shale had agreed to come back later. She could come back and try to figure out more of the conspiracy when she had crowned a King and perhaps stopped a Blight. What was most notable about the information was the fact that Bhelen had had forty-two deshyrs firmly in his pocket not even a year ago and now he only had thirty-nine. She’d need to remember to ask for a copy of the most recent vote to see if only three deshyrs had changed their vote to Harrowmont (likely the more easily bribable) or if even more had and some of the ones who had not sided with Bhelen after Trian’s death were on his side now.
 
Just after leaving the Shaperate, the group encountered Lady Delala Dace on her way into the building.
 
“Do try to watch where you’re going,” Lady Dace sniffed, eyeing them disdainfully.
 
“Lady Dace,” Aunn greeted her with a tight smile. “I was actually just about to go looking for you.” Not particularly hard as she really didn’t want to have to deal with her but just the same, the fallout for what she had to say was more important than avoiding an unpleasant encounter with an even unpleasanter woman.
 
“Oh?” Lady Dace asked, appearing surprised. “I take it you have some sort of message for me from another deshyr?”
 
Aunn’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was one thing for those she didn’t actually know or who were overly enthusiastic about following what the memories said but she knew that Lady Dace was just pretending not to know her because she was, quite frankly, a horrible person. Aunn had never understood how ‘not caring about anything but House Dace’ qualified someone as practical, anyway. If nothing else, Orzammar had to be preserved or else it wouldn’t even matter who had been ‘winning.’ “I’m sorry, you must be so terribly out of the loop. Literally everyone else that I’ve encountered has already heard all about how I, the late King’s daughter, have returned to Orzammar a Grey Warden in order to secure troops to face the Blight.”
 
Lady Dace bristled at the implication that she wasn’t well-informed. “Your house has rejected you and so as far as I’m concerned, you’re not worth my time.”
 
“Not on the Aeducan front, no,” Aunn agreed. “But for a Grey Warden not to be worth your time, either? It’s nice to know just how seriously House Dace is on the issue of the darkspawn that continue to try and kill us all.”
 
Lady Dace closed her eyes briefly as she no doubt realized that, while being openly hostile to ‘the exile’ was perfectly acceptable, her image would take a hit if she were blatantly rude to a Grey Warden. “Surely one of your stature must have more important things to do than personally making sure that every deshyr knows you by sight?” She was, of course, free to be a little more subtly mocking and the implication was there that she must not be that important if she had to time to harass her.
 
“I do. I was speaking with my brother’s second and he gave me some very interesting promissory notes,” Aunn explained, pulling out the papers and showing them to Lady Dace.
 
“Well…this is no surface broadsheet,” Lady Dace said, looking stunned as she examined the papers. “But this is just ridiculous! I can’t believe Lord Harrowmont would make such an obvious mistake…”
 
“He wouldn’t,” Aunn agreed. “I had the papers authenticated by the Shaper and he said that the terms of these deals have been altered. You can feel free to ask him all about it when we’re done here.”
 
Lady Dace raised an eyebrow inquisitively as she returned the papers. “Is that so? If you knew that they weren’t real and had no intention of trying to deceive me on the point then why bring this to my attention at all?”
 
“Well, other than my great dedication to truth and justice,” Aunn began virtuously, “I felt that it was best to put you on your guard lest that scoundrel try again.”
 
“I see. Well thank you so much for informing me,” Lady Dace said perfunctorily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have very pressing business I need to attend to and must also speak to the Shaper about this…” And with that further implication that she was more important than Aunn and wasn’t about to trust her, Lady Dace was gone. Finally.
 
“She was pleasant,” Zevran said sarcastically.
 
“I wanted to crush her head,” Shale announced. Trian growled his agreement.
 
“Or turn her into a toad,” Morrigan added. “It may have taken a bit more effort since dwarves are resistant to magic but I was feeling very motivated.”
 
Aunn smiled. “And I would have sincerely liked to throw her into the lava but, well, too many witnesses. I suppose that that is one of the nice things about the Surface: I have never met anyone nearly as infuriating as some of the people I grew up around…”
 
“That is a silver lining,” Zevran agreed.
 
“Wasn’t there a fight we were supposed to be at?” Sten asked, annoyed.
 

 
Practically the minute that Aunn stepped foot into the Proving arena an excited man ran up to her.
 
“You’re not…but you are! My Lady Aeducan! I am such a fan! You’re win at the Proving a few months back was nothing short of inspirational!” he gushed.
 
Aunn blinked. She apparently had a fan. Interesting. She’d never come into contact with one before although it was entirely possible that she’d still had some. This was her first time wandering around without really having any sort of escort and Ancestors knew that Morrigan, Sten, Shale, and Zevran not only wouldn’t care if she talked to a casteless but likely wouldn’t understand why everyone else would. “I’m honored.”
 
“Are you going to fight in today’s Proving?” he asked hopefully.
 
Aunn nodded. “That is the plan. Is registration still open?”
 
“Oh yes,” the man confirmed, jerking his head towards the Proving Master who was standing in the center of the room. “It will still be open until the first round begins in about twenty minutes.”
 
“I’d better go sign up then,” Aunn said, politely excusing herself. “You guys can go look around. As I’m the only Grey Warden here, it would be best if I were the only one to sign up. Actually, I’m not sure that you even could…”
 
“I would almost prefer to be waiting outside with the others,” Sten told her bluntly. “That way I could at least pretend that you were actually doing something to fight the Blight.”
 
“You could still pretend,” Aunn suggested before turning and walking up to the Proving Master.
 
The Proving Master’s eyes widened in shock when he saw her. “My Lady Aeducan! Everyone thought that you were dead!” He actually sounded delighted that this was not the case.
 
“Not quite dead,” Aunn replied. “Though not for lack of throwing myself at large groups of darkspawn. I must admit, I’m a little surprised that you still remember me.” It wasn’t that she thought he would actually forget about her in less than a year, of course, but it was a great honor to become the Proving Master and those who did were extremely traditional. The more traditional someone was, the more likely they were to refuse to acknowledge her existence like Shaper Czibor although, as Lord Harrowmont had proven, it was hardly a guarantee.


The Proving Master waved her concerns off. “You've graced this arena so often I could never forget your face. As you no doubt no, your brother called a Proving to honor your father’s memory. You may no longer be recognized as an Aeducan but as a Warden you are still free to enter. Would you care to do so?”
 
Aunn nodded. “Absolutely. I was unfortunately unable to be here while my father lay dying and so this is really the next best thing.”
 
“Will you be fighting for anyone in particular or in your own name?” The Proving Master asked in a brisk, business-like manner. “And what name shall I put you down under?”
 
“I will be championing Lord Harrowmont,” Aunn informed him. “And referring to me as ‘the Grey Warden Aunn’ will be acceptable.”
 
“Right,” the Proving Master said as he wrote down the information she had given him. “I suppose that that’s to be expected given the bad blood between you and your brother. You’re not fighting in the first round but be sure to listen for you name to be announced.”
 
“Are Baizyl Harrowmont or Gwiddon Torgan fighting today?” Aunn inquired.
 
“They were scheduled to,” the Proving Master replied. “But late last night they both pulled out and completely messed up the scheduling. It’s a shame, too. They certainly would have given the crowd a good show.”
 
Aunn spotted Baizyl standing off by himself in a corner and looking uncomfortable and went up to go talk to him.
 
“Aunn?” Baizyl asked uncertainly. “I can see that the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated. Congratulations on that, I guess.”
 
“Thanks,” Aunn said, a little amused. “What’s this I hear about you withdrawing from the fight?”
 
“I’m really not feeling very good about this fight, is all,” Baizyl claimed. “I’ve already told Dulin all about it.”
 
“He really didn’t seem content to just accept that,” Aunn pointed out. “And for that matter, neither did your cousin.”
 
Baizyl sighed. “I know, he’s asking all sorts of awkward questions. I know that this is important but…”
 
“Okay, I have an idea,” Aunn told him. “Let’s pretend that I’m here to champion Lord Harrowmont and he wants me to get you back in the arena. Let’s also pretend that I don’t really care what your reason for dropping out is and am just looking for you to fight for Lord Harrowmont. If Bhelen wins then he can probably continue to use whatever is keeping you out of the Proving against you and if your cousin does then he’s going to look into your uncharacteristic and embarrassing refusal to support him.”
 
“If Bhelen wins and I support my cousin then he’ll probably have me executed,” Baizyl countered.
 
“Then work to keep him off the throne!” Aunn exclaimed. “Now why aren’t you fighting?”
 
Baizyl rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to make up his mind on whether to confide in her or not. “Do you know of a lesser cousin of yours named Revelka?”
 
Revelka…she was a quiet girl with dirty blonde hair in a high ponytail. Aunn hadn’t really ever had much to do with her (she had never seemed particularly bright and so that, added to her lack of importance, meant she was thoroughly uninteresting) but at least she knew who that was. “I do. This has something to do with her?”
 
“It has everything to do with her,” Baizyl answered. “When we were younger, the two of us had…relations.” Oh, what a surprise.
 
“She’s married now, right?” Aunn asked. “And to one of the Bemots? Are you worried that her husband will find out and react badly?” Aunn was hardly one to judge about getting involved with someone that her family (the same family, in fact) felt was beneath her and Baizyl Harrowmont was at least noble caste so Revelka’s liaison would have been seen as more inappropriate. Just the same…continuing their affair after marriage? It just seemed foolish and risky and dishonorable to her. She supposed some people were sentimental enough to place love above such concerns.
 
“From what Revelka tells me, her husband is actually a fairly reasonable man,” Baizyl said. “But he’s a deshyrs heir so he has a lot of power. He might have been okay with our past but, well…”
 
“It’s not exactly in the past?” Aunn guessed.
 
Looking miserable and faintly guilty, Baizyl nodded. “I thought we were being discrete but Bhelen’s fighter Myaja managed to get his hands on some love letters that Revelka wrote me. I hardly think I need to tell you just how badly that would end up. Her husband would renounce her, House Aeducan would do the same to avoid association with such a scandal and so their alliance with House Bemot would stand firm, and I would be lucky if I were allowed to die in the Proving arena.”
 
“Please understand that I’m not taking back my offer to help or in any way judging but…if you were going to engage in a clandestine affair that would have such disastrous consequences if it were discovered then why in the world would you leave physical proof of these liaisons? That’s even more damning than a respectable eyewitness!” Aunn exclaimed.
 
Baizyl shrugged helplessly. “I guess…we were far more careful at the start but as time went by and no one seemed to notice or care I guess we just got complacent. It may not have been the best idea but Revelka doesn’t deserve to be cast out for that. I mean, surely you can understand how horrible that would be!”
 
“I can,” Aunn conceded. “And my supposed crime was far worse. I doubt I would have stayed in Orzammar had I just lost my house. On the Surface, caste doesn’t matter, after all, but that would still involve going to the Surface…Does Myaja have the letters here?”
 
Baizyl nodded. “She has them locked in her room here. She took them out to show me a little while ago so I wouldn’t be tempted to enter anyway and then I watched her put them back.”
 
“I’ll be back soon,” Aunn promised. “And can you tell me which fighter is Gwiddon Torgan? I need to talk to him as well.”
 
“Sure, he’s the redhead standing over there. Good luck,” Baizyl said earnestly. “And hurry! Registration closes after the first bout begins.”
 
Aunn walked away from him and began looking for Zevran. As an assassin, he seemed like he’d make a better thief than a giant golem, a dog, a qunari who didn’t even see the point in any of this, or a touchy apostate. If Leliana were here, she’d be even better because Aunn knew that bards had to steal things but she was just going to have to make do with what she had.
 
She found him idly examining the construction while leaning against one of the walls. “Did you need something?” he asked her.
 
Aunn nodded. “One of the fighters dropped out because he’s being blackmailed with some love letters his married lover sent him. If you could break into the room they’re being kept and get them back, that would be great. If you could do it without anyone noticing that would, of course, be better but as long as the letters aren’t made public and you get them in time for the fighter to enter the Proving then that’s the important thing.”
 
“Sounds fun,” Zevran said with a slight smirk. “Where is the room and who are we stealing the letters from?”
 
Aunn quickly pointed out both the room and Myaja out to him and then went off to go speak with Gwiddon. She didn’t know him personally but the fact that he was supposed to be fighting for Harrowmont meant it was far less likely for him to blindly hate her which would make this conversation a lot easier.
 
“Gwiddon?” Aunn began.
 
Gwiddon turned to face her. “I’m sorry, have we met? I don’t remember seeing you before.”
 
“I’m fairly certain that we have not,” Aunn answered. “I was looking for you, however.”
 
Gwiddon’s expression turned wary. “Why?”
 
“I heard that you were dropping out of the Proving. I want to know why,” Aunn told him matter-of-factly.
 
“Well…” Gwiddon looked around before lowering his voice. “I heard from a reliable source that Lord Harrowmont’s already given up the throne and that Bhelen called this Proving to let his Lordship save face when he concedes. I’ve fought for Lord Harrowmont for twenty years in the Deep Roads and I’ll do so again in the future but I’d rather keep myself and my family out of the political games the nobles play and don’t want to risk offending our future King.”
 
Aunn laughed. She really couldn’t help it. “That is just so…so absurd on several different levels.”
 
“Oh?” Gwiddon asked coolly. “Why do you think so?”
 
“To begin with, my brother has hated Lord Harrowmont for years. He’s not only not going to help him save face but he’ll likely have Lord Harrowmont executed the minute he takes the throne,” Aunn explained. “Then there’s the fact that I just spoke with Lord Harrowmont and he personally asked me to get you and his cousin to fight in the Proving before we went on to discuss how I could help him take the throne. At this point, I don’t think anything short of a Paragon will convince Lord Harrowmont to back down.”
 
Gwiddon frowned, looking confused. “Your brother? But that would mean…Your Highness! I didn't recognize you. I mean, now it's obvious – you have the look of your father – but who would watch for such a thing?” He sounded both deeply impressed and incredibly flustered. Well, this would make him quite easy to convince. “Do you truly mean Lord Harrowmont wants the throne? And you'll help him take it?” He sounded so very hopeful. If Harrowmont did take the throne and House Torgan was so closely allied to them, it would bring them all sorts of prestige, after all.
 
“Yes,” Aunn said simply. The answer to the first question was most definitely yes and the answer to the second was something she was still trying to decide.
 
Gwiddon took a deep breath, hardening his resolve. “Then I can do no less. I’ll go sign up right now, your Highness.” He was a little too gullible for her tastes but he was also treating her how she might have been treated before her exile so, on the whole, Aunn had to say that she liked the man. She might even feel vaguely guilty for whatever happened to him because of this that he was trying to avoid by sitting the fight out if Bhelen did end up taking the throne.
 
Gwiddon went up to the Proving Master and Zevran came back to her. “I have them,” he announced, brandishing the letters. “This Myaja was not very attentive. I simply had Shale distract them while I broke into her room and she never once glanced my way. Not to mention that the letters were simply sitting on top of her table in plain sight. Incidentally, we also recovered your lost Shaperate tome as Shale’s distraction ended up breaking up the illegal sale of the item.”
 
“You do good work,” Aunn said, impressed, as she accepted the letters. “We should return that to the Shaperate after the Proving is over.”
 
“As you’re fighting, I’ll hold onto it until then,” Zevran told her.
 
Letters in hand, Aunn went back over to Baizyl.
 
“Did you find anything?” he demanded. “The Proving has almost started and if I’m not going to fight then I really shouldn’t even risk being here.”
 
“Don’t worry, I have them,” Aunn assured him, holding them out for him to see.
 
“How did you…?” Baizyl breathed. “No, on second thought I’d rather not know. Plausible deniability and whatnot.” He reached out to grab the letters.
 
“Now that you two are safe and you’re going to be fighting in the Proving, might I recommend that if you two insist on keeping up this dangerous affair that you at least stop leaving evidence behind?” Aunn suggested.
 
“Oh, definitely,” Baizyl agreed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put my name back on the roster…”
 
Aunn followed him up as there couldn’t possibly be much time left until the Proving started and she wanted to know who she was fighting.
 
Once he was done speaking to Baizyl, the Proving Master turned to her and chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the minute you show up to support Lord Harrowmont his renegade fighters decide to enter the Proving after all. I must thank you for that. It makes determining the order of the matches far easier.”
 
“Who am I going to fight first?” Aunn inquired. “And when?”
 
“You have the third match against Seweryn. He was one of the youngest champions ever. Beat his own father at twelve years old and all for the right to earn his battle status too years early,” the Proving Master answered. That would certainly make his family situation complicated. While beating his father at twelve would earn Seweryn great glory, it would also be a huge embarrassment for said father.
 
“Thank you,” Aunn said before wandering off to go see who else was fighting. She headed back to the room where the fighters always waited and quickly spotted Darvianak Vollney. She had been wanting to talk to him for quite some time. Unfortunately, there was really no tactful way to say what she was planning on saying and so it was best to just spit it out. “So you were accused of killing your brother.”
 
Darvianak gave a long-suffering sigh. “I fought a Proving here ten years ago and the Ancestors found me innocent. I have the right to challenge anyone who falsely accuses me to another right now,” he said pointedly.
 
“Oh, I’m hardly judging,” Aunn assured him. “I’m actually just really jealous.”
 
Darvianak looked puzzled. “Jealous? Of what? These persistent allegations?”
 
“You were accused of killing your brother and you were allowed to defend your honor in a Proving,” Aunn explained. “I was accused of killing mine and I was immediately fed to darkspawn.”
 
Darvianak’s lip twitched. “They must not have been very hungry. That would be an unfortunate situation but I think Prince Trian’s status as royal heir may have played a part in that. Besides, you seem to have made out alright.”
 
“True,” Aunn acknowledged. “But whereas you can challenge anyone who accuses you of fratricide to a Proving, I was condemned a Kinslayer by the Assembly and so I just kind of have to put up with it.”
 
“Do well enough in the Proving and you’ll have a lot less people willing to dare say anything of the sort,” Darvianak advised.
 
Aunn grinned. “Will do.” Bhelen had mentioned something about Piotin fighting today and so she wanted to go see him before the match. Aunn had always wanted to face him but had never been allowed to as no one won when a House fought itself but now she would really get to see if she could take him down. She had to admit, she was looking forward to it.
 
Unless things had greatly changed since she had last been here – which was always a possibility – she knew which room Piotin would be in. On her way to it, however, she was stopped by a man completely covered in armor. The helm made it impossible to see who he was and she couldn’t place the voice. His words, though, quickly announced his identity. 
 
“Well, if it isn't the little exiled Lady Aeducan,” he said mockingly. “I hear you made meat of my little brother. Looks like it's time to put the polish back on the Ivo name.” This must be Frandlin Ivo’s brother. What was his name again? Something with a W…Wojach? Or was it Wojech?
 
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember your brother,” Aunn lied, sounding apologetic.
 
“How can you not remember him?” Wojech demanded, outraged. “I suppose it’s no matter. You’re just an exile and he’s Prince Bhelen’s right hand.”
 
“I’m hardly ‘just’ an exile,” Aunn argued. “I’m a Grey Warden during a Blight.” She paused. “And my brother’s left handed anyway so that’s less impressive then you’d think.”
 
“So smug…” Wojech seethed. “This isn’t some Glory Proving to celebrate some noble brat’s first commission. You’re fighting men now, not other little girls.”
 
Aunn was unmoved. “Say what you want. Should we meet in the Arena, you’ll see who’s full of it.”
 
With that, she continued on her way to see her cousin. His door wasn’t even locked so she had no problems getting in and sure enough, there was Piotin standing in the center of his room looking bored with two guards standing behind him.
 
“I was wondering if you’d show up,” Piotin remarked casually. “Forgive me for calling you Aunn but I can’t very well call you ‘Cousin’ since the family renounced you and you’re supporting the usurper.”
 
Aunn shrugged. “You could really call me whatever. When I spoke with Bhelen earlier he acknowledged me as his big sister twice.”
 
Piotin regarded her skeptically. “You’re honestly telling me that after the way you left Orzammar and you openly went off with Harrowmont upon your return that Bhelen was willing to grant you an audience?”
 
“Well, ‘grant’ might be going a bit far,” Aunn said mildly.
 
“I see,” Piotin said disapprovingly. “I do hope that you’re not going to pretend that you’re not supporting Harrowmont. In addition to what I’ve already mentioned, you could never support Bhelen after what he accused you of and everyone knows that Harrowmont was the first to defend you and hasn’t actually stopped defending you since before you even left.”
 
“Oh, so it’s only what Bhelen accused me of instead of what a vicious, cowardly act I did commit?” Aunn asked innocently. “That’s sweet.”
 
“Don’t read more into it than what I meant,” Piotin warned. “I firmly believe that if Bhelen were deemed an unacceptable heir then the Assembly should have turned to each and every member of the Aeducan line before seeking a King from a lesser family.”
 
“Naturally.”
 
“You do realize that even should you win it will be worth nothing in the end, yes?” Piotin asked her. “The deshyrs aren’t so foolish as to let one Proving decide our next King.”
 
“I know that the Proving won’t be anywhere near decisive,” Aunn agreed. “But to say that it doesn’t matter? Please. If that were the case then why would so many top fighters be here?”
 
Piotin chose to ignore that in favor of getting another jab in. “You must be excited, huh? For years you’ve wanted to face me and now you’re finally being given the opportunity to fall at my feet.”
 
Aunn simply shook her head. “You’re as confident as I remember.”
 
“You had better hope that you’re not like I remember or this will be a short fight,” Piotin replied. “You’re talented, Aunn, make no mistake, but quite frankly you’re just not in my league. Your form was much too sloppy and your eyes gave away your every move.”
 
“What’s been your most challenging fight over the last year?” Aunn shot back. “An ogre? I’ve been regularly taking on ogres by myself for months now. I don’t just encounter darkspawn when I go on well-stocked expeditions, I run the risk of encountering them wherever I go. I’ve gone up against demons and dragons and even walking corpses. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve stepped my skills up.”
 
Piotin’s eyes shined with anticipation. “Well, then. This might be interesting after all.”
 

 
Aunn won much to the surprise of each and every one of her opponents (admittedly, it was really hard to tell with Hanashan). Wojech seemed to think that the fact that his House was – for the first time since its founding – even vaguely relevant meant that he should have been able to take her down with ease and her cousin seemed unable to process what had happened by the time she had left. It wasn’t that Piotin wasn’t any good and Aunn really doubted she would have been able to beat him before she had left but…he was no ogre. He was no demon, he was no sharlock, he was no dragon. She had faced his squad of four with only Baizyl and Gwiddon by her side and she had triumphed. Notably, the Proving Master was not only unsurprised by her victories but actually seemed a little smug about them. Aunn supposed that her winning meant that his decision to not only acknowledge her but to treat her with respect was justified.
 
Practically the moment that she and her companions (who didn’t seem particularly interested in her victory but then it wasn’t their culture or their people so why would they be?) stepped foot back into the Commons they were ambushed. Fortunately, said ambusher wasn’t an assassin or fanatic but rather a friend of Aunn’s.
 
“So it is true,” Nerav Helmi said reverently. “You are alive! Adal told me that she seen you on her way back from the Proving ground but I don’t understand how this is possible. You were exiled to the Deep Roads!”
 
A smile lit up Aunn’s face. Nerav wasn’t really much involved with politics and was no fighter but she was Jaylia Helmi’s sister and high enough in her family so as to have had plenty of interaction with her. “The nice thing about the Deep Roads is that there are paths to the Surface in them and the even nicer thing about finding Grey Wardens still in the Deep Roads is that they know where said passages are and will escort you to one of them.”
 
“I can’t believe you actually managed to become a Grey Warden after all,” Nerav said fondly, shaking her head. “Imagine what your father would say…” Sensing it was an awkward subject – due to Endrin’s recent death if nothing else – she quickly continued with, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you just happened to show up when Lord Harrowmont was in the middle of trying to keep Bhelen from the throne.”
 
“That is a complete and utter coincidence,” Aunn claimed virtuously.
 
Nerav laughed. “I’m sure. Listen, my aunt wanted you to come to dinner tonight. We can catch up more then and I’m sure some of the others will be thrilled to see you.”
 
“I would be honored to accept your invitation,” Aunn said politely. “What time?”
 
“Around seven should be good,” Nerav replied. “And I want you to know that no matter how much I want to see Lord Harrowmont take the throne and believe that you can help do that, I am genuinely glad to see you back here alive and well. I never believed that you killed Trian and now the common people are coming around to believe that as well. Orzammar just hasn’t been the same without you.”
 
“I missed you, too,” Aunn said warmly. “And I’ll see you tonight. Before you go, do you have any idea where I could find Denek? I need to show him something and it’s a little gauche to bring up something like this during dinner.”
 
Nerav rolled her eyes. “Oh, were else would he be? He’s at Tapster’s trying to figure out how the rest of Orzammar lives.”
 

 
Aunn had spent quite a bit more time at Tapster’s Tavern than one would expect given that she didn’t drink. Some thought that it was un-dwarven not to drink at all but she was rather of the opinion that every sip of alcohol just made it more likely to say something inappropriate or dangerous and thus simply not worth the risk even if it was considered rather strange. The ale wasn’t the only thing worth noticing about the tavern, however, and the fact that it was considered somewhat respectable so that she had actually been permitted to go with just Gorim only made her like the place more.
 
Tapster’s had an atmosphere. Even brands were technically allowed in the place as long as their coin wasn’t too obviously stolen although she had never seen one, most likely because most nobles would have a fit if they had to be in the same building as a casteless and so either the staff or the brands themselves (or both) made sure to keep a meeting from happening. While one could never truly forget their caste, in Tapster’s it just seemed much less important than it did in the rest of Orzammar. All that mattered was getting drunk and having fun at the end of a long day or meeting with somebody in a nice, neutral location.
 
Zevran looked around appreciatively. “Ah, finally we get to the interesting places. Although I have heard some…interesting things about dwarven ale. It can’t really taste that bad, however, right?”
 
“There is dirt in it,” Sten announced.
 
Aunn coughed, looking a little sheepish. “No one’s forcing you to drink it.”
 
“These men are staring at me,” Morrigan complained. “And quite luridly.”
 
“Perhaps if the swamp witch put on a real shirt they would not be so interested,” Shale suggested helpfully.
 
“Don’t make me find out if you’re really fireproof,” Morrigan warned.
 
Shale tilted her head. “You know, I really don’t know if I am or not…”
 
“What are you doing here, exile?” a sharp voice demanded.
 
Aunn looked over to see the owner of the place, Corra, glaring at her with her hands on her hips. Since Aunn had spent so much time at Tapster’s over the years she had gotten to know the staff fairly well and she and Corra had always gotten along. Apparently her exile had changed that. “Is my being here a problem?” she asked calmly.
 
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Corra said heatedly. “Grey Warden or not, this is my establishment and you are not welcome here. I liked your brother.”
 
“I know you did,” Aunn replied quietly. Trian generally had had nothing but disdain for the lower castes but Corra, for whatever reason, had decided he was just rough around the edges and was so persistently friendly that eventually he had just stopped bothering to look down on her since it was so very clearly a wasted effort. “And I didn’t kill him.”
 
“So who did?” Corra challenged. “Bhelen?”
 
“Would that really surprise you?” Aunn countered. “You never liked him.” While most of Orzammar had been convinced that Bhelen had been the untalented and uninteresting one, Corra had always insisted that there was something not quite right about him and now it seemed that she had been proven right.
 
“He is disgustingly self-serving and manipulative,” Corra declared. “But as a Prince, I have to serve him. I could easily believe Bhelen capable of fratricide but you’ll forgive me for not just taking your word for it.”
 
“I suppose that’s fair,” Aunn conceded. “Although I can’t imagine you’d be this hostile with my brother.”
 
Corra snorted. “Of course not. As a member of not only the nobility but the royal family, he’d have me killed. Not to mention that with him you know what you’re getting into and so if you fall for his tricks you have only yourself to blame. You, I expected more from. Trusting a noble…what must I have been thinking?”
 
“If it makes you feel any better, I would have thought you knew me better than to just blindly accept those sorts of accusations,” Aunn replied softly.
 
“It’s not just accusations, Aunn. You were exiled,” Corra countered. There was at least a little doubt in her eyes, though. It really was remarkable how many people she had known seemed to expect that being condemned for killing her brother would make her a completely different person. Remarkable and very, very trying. Still, she would gain nothing by lashing out and would probably just end up confirming their suspicions.
 
“I was exiled within two days of Trian’s death,” Aunn pointed out. “His body wasn’t even cold before the Assembly was voting to get rid of me. Surely you don’t think that that’s a legitimate way to handle such affairs or that, regardless of what happened to Trian, justice was served.”
 
Corra sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve spent the last several months thinking you were just as bad as Bhelen was. You bring up some good points but if you want me to believe it you’re going to have to show me you have more honor than your brother.”
 
Aunn nodded to show that she understood. She rather doubted that if she had more honor than him that it was all that much more. Still, if she stuck with Harrowmont chances were that some people would believe that. She had spotted Lord Helmi who was, typically, complaining about his fellow deshyrs and so she left Corra to go see him.
 
Denek smiled when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t our lost Princess returned to us safe and sound. Adal and Nerav will be thrilled, I’m sure. If you haven’t run into one of them already, I’m supposed to tell you that mother would like to have you for dinner tonight.”
 
“I ran into Nerav earlier and she told me as much,” Aunn replied. “I take it you don’t think I killed Trian then?”
 
Denek shrugged. “Oh, who even knows? If you were you wouldn’t be the first Kinslayer I’ve associated with and the only thing you did differently was get caught. Still, House Helmi is supporting Harrowmont and so I suppose that I shouldn’t express any doubt in your innocence.”
 
“Truly, your faith in me is touching,” Aunn said dryly. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
 
“What?” Denek asked. “Whether I think you’re a Kinslayer? The unpunished Kinslayers in the Assembly? House Helmi’s support or Lord Harrowmont?”
 
“That last one,” Aunn answered. “I assume that part of it is annoyance that with Trian dead there’s no way Jaylia can marry him and increase House Helmi’s standing?”
 
“Part of it, yes,” Denek agreed. “But even that wouldn’t be so bad if Bhelen was willing to marry Jaylia or someone else from my House instead. He’s refused to even consider the question of marriage until his coronation so there have been all sorts of rumors flying around that he intends to marry that casteless girl he’s got up at the palace. In a way, it makes sense. If he tried to marry her before taking the throne then the Assembly would sooner see me take in then him. Still, I can’t see Bhelen doing something like that.” Denek had never been popular in the Assembly but at least he actively hated them all right back instead of moping about it.
 
“And a large part of the rest of it is those lands Harrowmont promised you in exchange for your vote,” Aunn finished for him.
 
“Ah, you mean those lands that Lord Harrowmont just happened to decide to give to us out of the kindness of his heart around the time that my mother decided that he was best for Orzammar?” Denek asked innocently.
 
Aunn nodded. “Yes, those. Someone gave me papers that claim that he promised the exact same land to House Dace and-”
 
Denek slammed his mug of ale down and laughed bitterly. “You must think I’m pretty sodding naïve, huh? I honestly thought that Harrowmont was a better man than Bhelen and that it might be nice to have a good man on the throne for once. But they’re all the same: well-dressed, blood-sucking cave ticks.”
 
“You didn’t let me finish,” Aunn said mildly.
 
“Finish what?” Denek asked glumly, glancing over at her. “I don’t even want to see the papers.”
 
“Well you really should,” Aunn disagreed. “Because I was going to say that, like anyone sensible would do, I had the Shaper look over the promissory notes and found out that they were fraudulent. I’m just trying to warn you in case my brother’s second tries something like this again and if you’d like you can feel free to ask the Shaper to confirm what I just said.”
 
Denek looked rather sheepish. “I guess it does pay to get the whole story, huh? I’m just so used to disillusionment that I’m practically waiting for someone to come along and tell me that it’s all a lie.”
 
Aunn sighed theatrically. “Well, Lord Helmi, I hate to tell you this after you so passionately declared your faith in me but…I kind of eat babies.”
 
Denek laughed. “Every time!” He stood up. “Well, I should go see the Shaper so that I’ll be able to have an answer for mother when she asks about the matter.”
 
“Oh, if you’re going can you take this back to them?” Aunn asked, pulling out the tome Zevran had handed back to her after the Proving had concluded. Noticing Denek’s quizzical look, she elaborated. “Some casteless man stole it earlier today and it had somehow ended up at the Proving. I’d take it back myself but I doubt I’ll get back there today and they seemed really anxious to get it back.”
 
“No problem,” Denek said, accepting the tome. “And I’ll make sure not to open it on my way there so I won’t find out that you hollowed it out and are smuggling lyrium up there.” 
 
“You’re the best,” Aunn told him as he left.
 
“I didn’t think I was nearly drunk enough to start seeing dead people…” a gravelly voice remarked casually.
 
Aunn turned around to see a man she vaguely recognized as Branka’s husband peering suspiciously between her and his drink. “I’m not dead.”
 
“That’s what they all say,” he said dismissively. “But old Oghren knows better than that. But say you aren’t dead. Say the exiled princess really has come back to Orzammar in order to put the past behind her and rally allies for the Blight. What then?”
 
Putting the past behind her? That had to be the exact opposite of what she’d done since arriving back in the city of her birth and she had no plans of changing that anytime soon. Still, actually telling people that? Probably not the best idea even if Oghren was under the impression that he was drunk enough to see dead people and apparently actually got drunk enough to see dead people. “What do you mean ‘what then?’”
 
“Why are you wasting so much time worrying about whose ass goes on the throne?” Oghren demanded.
 
“Because I need troops,” Aunn replied promptly. “And my treaty only requires the King to provide them for me.”
 
“A Paragon could get you those troops even easier than a King could,” Oghren argued.
 
“The last time I checked, our only Paragon was kind of missing,” Aunn reminded him. “And so it seems a bit more realistic to worry about who is going to become King.”
 
Oghren shook his head disappointedly. “You know, when I heard there was a Grey Warden here I thought you might be the one to finally go find Branka but you’re just like all the rest, aren’t you?”
 
“As it happens, I may actually need to find her at some point,” Aunn revealed. “And if that’s the case then will it really matter what my motivation for doing so is? From what I’ve heard of Branka, she’s not easily manipulated and so you don’t really have to worry about her as far as that goes.”
 
“A princess going to rescue a Paragon…” Oghren chuckled darkly as he took another sip of his drink. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
 
“Fine by me,” Aunn said easily. There was movement out of the corner of her eye and when she turned to look she saw Dulin waving her over. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
 
Oghren just grunted and downed the rest of his mug.
 
Aunn went over to go see what Dulin wanted. Part of her wondered if he was planning on accusing her of somehow using her victory in Harrowmont’s name as a way to secretly be working for Bhelen.
 
“I…” Dulin began, looking awkward. “I think I may have misjudged you. I didn’t really expect you to do much in the Proving beyond making a token effort to convince Baizyl and Gwiddon and certainly not to enter yourself but not only did you actually convince them to actually fight but you won the whole thing. Bhelen would never work with someone who humiliated him in such a way. It’s pretty clear now which side you’re really on.”
 
“There’s no need to apologize,” Aunn assured him. “You were just looking out for Lord Harrowmont’s best interests and as he is rather biased where I’m concerned, you needed to be even more on your guard than you might otherwise need to be.” His apology was premature anyway. Bhelen was a proud man, sure, but he was usually capable of putting that aside for the sake of getting what he wanted. Sure, Aunn had embarrassed him but he had seemed accepting of that possibility when they had spoken earlier. As long as Aunn eventually managed to find a way to crown him, it really wouldn’t matter what she did in the meantime. She knew better than to tell Dulin this, however. It wouldn’t do to make him suspicious all over again before she had even decided what she was going to do.
 
Maybe Bhelen had a point about her indecisiveness?

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Five: So This Is Dust Town


“If you’re going to head off to parts unknown then shouldn’t we sort out our lodgings now?” Morrigan inquired as the group walked back to the Diamond Quarter.
 
“I’m hardly ‘heading off to parts unknown’,” Aunn said, mildly amused. “I’m simply having dinner with some members of House Helmi.” Feeling a little awkward, she reluctantly continued with, “If you would like to, I’m sure you all could accompany me.”
 
“No,” Sten said immediately.
 
“I don’t even eat,” Shale pointed out. “And I don’t even think that it’s likely that there will be an opportunity to entertain myself by crushing things.”
 
Aunn had to conceal a wince at the thought of how Shale would behave at the Helmi’s estate or at some other such affair. “It’s highly unlikely,” she quickly agreed. “And on the off chance that it does occur, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I grew up with the very real possibility of being attacked anywhere I went, after all.”
 
“Maybe I’ll go back to your Shaperate and find out more about golems,” Shale mused. “And I must say, for whatever flaws Orzammar might have – such as blatantly wasting our time – I do appreciate its thoughtful lack of birds.”
 
Aunn smiled a little at that and then glanced Zevran’s way as he was the only one yet to answer.
 
“Your world, not mine,” he said simply. “Plus I get the feeling that my presence would only complicate things.” Well, that was certainly true.
 
Trian barked excitedly.
 
“I’m sorry, Trian, but it would be a bad idea for you to go,” she said gently. “Fereldens may take their dogs everywhere but you must remember that this is most definitely not Ferelden and pets in general are a rarity even among the nobility. I’m already working from a rather shaky position and so causing problems by bringing you to dinner and thus forcing the Helmis to face a situation they are unprepared to deal with and so embarrass them would simply not be in my best interest. And don’t look at me like that; I’m not changing my mind.”
 
Trian shamelessly continued to stare plaintively up at her and so Aunn pointedly looked elsewhere.
 
“Yes, yes,” Morrigan said irritably. “Now that we’ve established something that we already knew before outright saying it, shouldn’t we find an inn? We have no idea how long that will take.”
 
“Good idea,” Zevran concurred. “Will the fact that you were exiled for killing the heir to the throne – innocent though you may be – cause problems for our quest to do so? Even if you don’t come with us, everyone seems to know that we’re with you.”
 
“Orzammar doesn’t let in many outsiders in the best of times,” Aunn explained. “Let alone when the city is locked down like this so of course they know that you’re with me. But no, I don’t think it will be a problem.”
 
“Greed overcoming principles, eh?” Zevran asked knowingly, a small smirk on his face. “You’d be the only one to even know if we’re being overcharged.” A pause. “Would they have a problem with Trian’s presence?”
 
As it happened, since Aunn had never needed to find an inn in Orzammar before nor actually been expected to pay for things personally when she could simply direct merchants to House Aeducan’s gold she probably wouldn’t be able to tell them much about whether they were being cheated. Still, it wasn’t like that really mattered. “Unless they’re Bhelen fanatics or were unusually fond of Trian – like Corra – and sincerely believe that I was responsible for his death, they’ll let me stay,” Aunn declared confidently. “And as long as we can afford it, they won’t care what we do. That said, we really don’t have to worry about finding an inn.”
 
“Why not?” Sten demanded. “We will need shelter.”
 
Aunn nodded. “True. Fortunately, I’m a Grey Warden.”
 
“Good for it,” Shale said dryly. “Or does it know something that we don’t?”
 
Aunn shrugged. “It would appear so. Grey Wardens have always been well-respected in Orzammar because they’re seen as the only Surfacers not to be completely in denial about darkspawn and are competent to boot. Grey Wardens always pass through the city on their way to the Deep Roads for their Calling and visit for recruitment, research, or Deep Roads expeditions often enough that they have their own rooms set aside in the Diamond Quarter.” Admittedly, she hadn’t actually known that the Calling was the reason that Grey Wardens occasionally came down to the Deep Roads to die but everyone knew that they did.
 
“And where are these rooms?” Morrigan asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
“Right…here,” Aunn replied, stopping in front of a small but grand building with the Grey Warden heraldry displayed proudly over the door. “We should be safe from any open attack here as no one would dream of doing such a thing in the Diamond Quarter – well not unless things were to get a lot more drastic then they are now. Unfortunately, since everyone knows where we’ll be staying there is every chance that there will be assassins sent. Also, chances are that we’ll be poisoned at least once so always carefully check your food.”
 
“Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a squishy creature,” Shale said, sounding amused. “Although I do echo the advice. Dying from eating would be simply embarrassing.”
 
“You know, for out of all the reasons I might have had for not wanting to be poisoned, I don’t think I’ve ever considered embarrassment as one of them,” Zevran said thoughtfully. “Especially seeing as how I’ll be dead. Still, it’s something to consider…”
 



As loathe as Aunn was to be unarmored and alone in Orzammar given how things currently stood, she also knew that it simply would not do to show up to dinner looking like she was heading off to battle and so made her way back to the Commons in order to find something appropriate to wear. She had never been in a position where she had to do this before as House Aeducan had always provided but surely finding a merchant selling modified Surfacer silks – modified, of course, because the outfits Surfacers wore did not usually come with chainmail – would not be such a daunting task. She did keep in mind that with the city shut down for these past three weeks goods would be a little scarcer than usual but going back outside, while it might broaden her selection of goods, was simply out of the question as then she’d have to face Wynne’s complaints about being left behind.
 
“Um, excuse me,” a nervous but determined voice spoke up.
 
Aunn turned to see a young girl with bright orange hair pulled back in messy pigtails and wearing an outfit that placed her in the smith caste looking beseechingly at her. “Yes?”
 
“I’ve heard all about you – everyone has, really – and this might seem a bit presumptuous of me but I’ve been waiting for ages to meet someone who really knows about the Surface and now you’re here and so I figured I may as well ask,” the girl said all in one breath. Talking that quickly really could not be good for you. “Is that okay?”
 
“I haven’t spent that much time on the Surface,” Aunn insisted, “but I’ll do my best to answer whatever question you have nonetheless.”
 
“Have you heard of the Circle Tower?” the girl asked, so very excited that her foot began tapping uncontrollably.
 
Aunn blinked. What an odd question coming from one of her own people. And did people really not know that the Circle existed? She was fairly certain that she had before her exile but she supposed that being a Princess who spent a great deal of time in the Shaperate she might have had more access to Surface knowledge than most people. And this was reminding her strongly of something… “This may be a strange question but are you Dagna, but any chance?”
 
The girl frowned, puzzled. “Yes, I am. I don’t see how you’d know that, though.”
 
“You want to go study at the Circle of Magi, right?” Aunn answered with a question of her own.
 
The expression on Dagna’s face turned dreamy. “More than anything.”
 
“Why?” Aunn asked, genuinely confused. “You obviously can’t do magic and smith caste is high enough that I doubt you’re seeking better treatment on the Surface. You know that once you go you can’t come back and I’ve heard that your father opposes this.”
 
“I thought you might not understand since you never left Orzammar willingly,” Dagna said slowly, biting her lip as she organized her thoughts. “You must love Orzammar a great deal. I…I’m not like that. Don’t get me wrong, it’s served as a fine home these past nineteen years but it’s full of stone and tradition and more stone. Nothing ever changes. I know that I’m still considered a child but in a few short weeks I’ll be legally an adult and I know what I want.”
 
“You want magic?” Aunn asked skeptically.
 
“Just being around it and learning everything there is to know would be enough, believe me,” Dagna assured her. “I’ve had years to think about this and it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I love my father and the rest of my family. I love my friends. Still, they are Orzammar through and through and I can’t live like this. If I stay here then my future is set. My father is already trying to sell me to the smith or warrior who offers the highest price and I’ll just toil away at a forge or pop out more children of stone for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think I understand why Branka left. Staying here…physically it might be safer for you than the Deep Roads or the Surface but if it kills your soul then what’s it even matter?”
 
Aunn personally thought that the teenager before her was being a bit overdramatic with the ‘soul-killing’ thing but, as a teenager, she supposed it wasn’t too far out there. “And you think going to the Circle would help? The last time I checked they keep their mages pretty tightly under lock and key.”
 
“Only so they won’t escape and as I wouldn’t actually have any magic I rather doubt they’d feel it necessary to impede my movements,” Dagna countered. “And yes, I do feel that it would help. The whole idea of magic, of being able to break every natural law just by thinking about it…if I could walk in a world where everything you think can become true then that’s all I would need. I can tell you don’t really agree with or even understand my choice but can you at least respect it?”
 
Aunn nodded grudgingly. “That I can do. I came across the First Enchanter of the Ferelden Circle of Magi, Irving, not too long ago and he told me that if I encountered you I should tell you that he’d be glad to accept you for study and instructed me to deliver this letter to you.”
 
As Dagna gleefully accepted the letter, she couldn’t help but ask, “But…if Irving knew about my plight and was okay with me coming to live at the Tower then why did it take him seven years to get back to me?”
 
“It didn’t, exactly,” Aunn admitted. “From what I gathered, you were fairly well-known at the Circle but the one time since you began writing that mages have had business in Orzammar, your father was distinctly unhelpful at finding you and they said they have written back so if you haven’t been receiving their replies then clearly they were being intercepted.”
 
“My father,” Dagna said ruefully. “It’s hard for him to accept my choice but I’m practically an adult and so he’s going to have to find some way of living with it. I should go start packing now. I don’t think I’ll say goodbye in person as who knows what he’d do to try to stop me? I’ll leave him a note. He won’t understand yet but maybe someday…” She shook her head. “Anyway, thank you so much! If you ever find yourself at the Circle again, make sure to look me up.”
 
With that she walked off and left Aunn to once again go in search for appropriate formal wear.




It took Aunn nearly an hour to find something decent but that still left her with plenty of time to change and head over to the Helmi estate. Her gown was a dark blue color that she couldn’t stand as she had been told many times over the years that it matched her eyes and she didn’t see the point of wearing a color just because it happened to be similar to her eye color. She wouldn’t be able to take her Starfang with her as that would have been too obvious but she concealed a few daggers on her person and that, along with the chainmail in the dress itself, insured that she wouldn’t be helpless if she got ambushed or even if – Ancestors forbid – a fight broke out at House Helmi itself. She kept her hairstyle the same as it was the most practical way she knew of to wear hair as long as hers and it wasn’t like she was any great expert on styling it anyway.
 
Before she managed to get to the Helmi estate, however, she nearly bumped into a girl who looked vaguely familiar. As said girl had the mark of a casteless, Aunn could only assume she was a noble hunter that she’d come across before.
 
Rather than greeting her or ignoring her and continuing on her way, the girl’s entire body stiffened and she glared at her. “You!”
 
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Aunn asked civilly, wondering what she could have possibly done to so enrage someone she barely even recognized. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother with her but she had to admit that she was rather curious.
 
“My name is Rica,” Rica introduced. “I’m the mother of your nephew.”
 
Aunn drew back. “I have a nephew? Why does no one ever tell me these things?”
 
“Probably because you’re a horrible Kinslayer,” Rica said flatly.
 
“Is that what Bhelen told you?” Aunn asked, shaking her head.
 
“It is,” Rica said curtly. “And it’s not like everyone else in Orzammar doesn’t know it, either.”
 
“Really? Because I could have sworn that I seemed to be getting an awful lot of support for someone who ‘everyone’ believes to be guilty,” Aunn mused aloud.
 
“If you mean from that beastly Lord Harrowmont who always liked you better and would do anything to bring him down then that’s hardly a good representation of what Orzammar thinks,” Rica claimed. “And of course his supporters – who just want House Aeducan off the throne – would fall in line behind his lies.”
 
Well, Aunn couldn’t deny that she was right about some of Harrowmont’s supporters wanting to dethrone the house she was born into but as for the rest of it? “Is that really what he’s been saying? And with a straight face? I must say, I’m impressed.”
 
“It’s really no surprise that you’re slandering him,” Rica declared. “I know all about how you’ve always hated him but at least he never stooped to your level!”
 
By this point, Aunn was fairly convinced that either Rica or Bhelen – or both – might not have the best grip on reality. “Just so we’re clear…this is my brother Bhelen we’re talking about, right? Not some other brother I’ve never met? Or, you know, I could even believe that Trian would say that.”
 
“Of course it’s Prince Bhelen!” Rica said, sounding offended.
 
“I suppose the rumors about Bhelen having poisoned our father are also vicious lies?” Aunn asked idly.
 
“Absolutely,” Rica said firmly. “Although since you weren’t here I know you weren’t involved with that. I wouldn’t be surprised if that beastly Harrowmont did and then tried to pin the blame on poor Bhelen. As if it weren’t enough that he invented this whole ‘doubt’ about your guilt just to frame Bhelen and then had the gall to whisper such things to the dying King! Did you know that when his father sent him away, Bhelen cried for weeks? Do you even care or do you still hate him that much?”
 
As it happened, Aunn had never hated Bhelen and was now wondering whether or not Bhelen had actually cried in front of Rica or had just claimed that this happened. Just the same, she found that image endlessly amusing but made sure to keep her face impassive so as not to send Rica flying off the handle before she was done speaking to her. “You’re really that certain of my brother’s innocence?” Aunn asked rhetorically. “Well you should know that as things stand now, he was the one who benefited the most from what happened as I was exiled and so if I didn’t do it then logic dictates that he’s the one with the biggest motive. What would you say if he had done it?”
 
Rica was quiet for a long moment. “Despite the fact that I know that Bhelen did nothing of the sort and you’re just trying to trick me, I would have to say that it wouldn’t matter. I’ve seen what you nobles are like. You’ve always reminded me of rats fighting for bread the way you try to seize power. If Bhelen did do as you say, then you’d certainly have deserved it.”
 
“For what?” Aunn demanded. “For the high crime of being born into the noble caste?”
 
“Doesn’t the whole of Orzammar believe that I and so many others like me never should have been born for the high crime of being born without a caste?” Rica shot back. “And had my son been a daughter then it would have been the same for her no matter that her father is the son of a King and will soon be King himself. But all of this is pointless as I know Bhelen and he would not stoop to your level.”
 
That shook her. Aunn had really never spent much time thinking about the casteless but here was this girl that she had argued with – and the only reason she’d even felt the need to do that was because she said she was the mother of the nephew she hadn’t known existed – who had made a very good point, hopelessly devoted to Bhelen though she might be. While Aunn refused to accept that she or even Trian had deserved what had happened just for an accident of birth, logic dictated that if one caste didn’t deserve bad things to happen for their parents then another shouldn’t either, even if that caste was really more of a lack of one. But…the very idea of that…it went against so many of the traditions that governed Orzammar and was starting to make her head hurt. She really did not need to be questioning these things now.
 
“You say you know Bhelen?” she asked quietly. “You’ve known him for, what, a year? I’ve known him since the day he was born. Your insistence that I’m evil aside, you seem like a fairly decent person disgusted by what you’ve seen and so by all means, believe what you wish. If you accepted the truth about him, it would probably haunt you forever.”




“Welcome, Aunn,” Lady Helmi greeted warmly after Aunn was shown into the Helmi’s formal dining hall. She’d been here before many times and marveled at how much it felt like nothing had changed. For House Helmi, she realized, very little had. There were perhaps three dozen dwarves in the room but the ones most familiar to Aunn were – aside from Lady Helmi herself – Denek, his sister Adal, Nerav, and her sister Jaylia. Jaylia was a very pretty girl with chocolate-colored hair and warm brown eyes. As she’d previously been on the verge of being engaged to the brother Aunn had supposedly killed, she was a bit uncertain about the reaction that she’d receive but Jaylia gave her a reassuring smile so apparently there were no hard feelings there.
 
“Thank you for inviting me,” Aunn replied, inclining her head a little in Lady Helmi’s direction. Now that she was no longer considered a part of House Aeducan, she really should have outright bowed but, well, old habits die hard and the concept of someone being better than her was just not one that she was able to wrap her mind around. She took the seat between Adal and Nerav.
 
“It is good to see you back,” Adal said quietly. “I’ve been forced to work twice as hard to try and make Orzammar see how useful non-Silent Sister women fighters can be.”
 
Aunn smiled. “Well, I’ve been back for less than a day and I’ve already won a Proving so you can’t deny I’m making trying to make up for lost time.”
 
The first course was brought out then and they all engaged in small talk for what seemed like forever before Lady Helmi decided to dismiss most of the people present and finally get to the point.
 
“So I hear that I have you to thank for uncovering that dreadful conspiracy Vartag Gavorn hatched about Lord Harrowmont cheating my house,” Lady Helmi declared.
 
What a grandiose way to put ‘convinced Vartag to test her loyalty, tattled to the Shaper, and then mentioned the result to Denek and forced him to hear the entirety of that result when he started leaping to conclusions.’ “I was happy to help,” Aunn said instead.
 
Lady Helmi smirked faintly at that. “I’m not surprised. Tell me, how committed are you to making Lord Harrowmont our new King?”
 
“I need a King to give me troops to face the Blight which is the main purpose for my return,” Aunn responded promptly. “And Lord Harrowmont has certainly acted more in my best interests thus far than Bhelen.”
 
Lady Helmi nodded in approval. “A diplomatic answer. Now, let’s talk politics.”




The next day, they had a nice breakfast before heading off to Dust Town. Aunn had always known where Dust Town was but she hadn’t really expected to ever actually have cause to go there. She had grown up hearing horror stories about the place. People said that the denizens of Dust Town – who weren’t even people and didn’t exist – would set upon anyone without a brand (and sometimes those with one) and rob and kill them. If that hapless brand-less dwarf was a woman or the casteless were just in a mood then they would be forced to suffer further indignities before death was granted to them after who knew how long.
 
Aunn was wise enough by now to know better than to blindly believe every whispered story and knew that she’d be better served by trying to approach this rationally. Yes, the casteless were said to not exist but, on the other hand, neither did she. Oh, as a Grey Warden she was perfectly real but as herself without all the trappings of an ancient and revered order of darkspawn-slayers? Not so much. Just the same, the fact that she had once existed and it had taken an accusation of fratricide and quite a few bribes and threats to change that meant that her situation wasn’t quite the same as the one most casteless had. This was a huge relief to her as comparing herself to the casteless made her extremely uncomfortable.
 
Aunn could easily believe that there would be those in Dust Town who would attack her – and perhaps even attempt to abduct her – because she had money and quality equipment and they didn’t. That said, the casteless weren’t even legally allowed to carry weapons and so even if they had formed an illegal carta and learned to fight on their own then she and the others would be able to handle themselves. There was really nothing to fear.
 
She left a majority of their wealth in their rooms in the Diamond Quarter anyway. Sure it was likely to be searched while they were out but mere theft would be less of a threat.
 
“Do you think that we’ll be ambushed by assassins again?” Zevran asked as they stood at the edge of Dust Town. Apparently while she’d been gone the night before assassins had gone after her companions. Fortunately, they were all more than capable of handling themselves.
 
“Maybe,” Aunn said. “There aren’t any witnesses worth anything here and we’ll probably get attacked by the locals either way. Be on your guard; we don’t really know what we’re dealing with.” With that, she took a deep, steadying breath and stepped inside the realm of the casteless.
 
The first thing she noticed was that the ground was different. Instead of the carefully constructed stone pathways that most of Orzammar was afforded, the ground they walked on more closely resembled that of the Deep Roads. Then there was the smell. The smell of sulfur was still present although it was overpowered by the overpowering smell of death and decay. Again, it served to remind her of the Deep Roads. The Deep Roads were horrible to spend time in – and she’d been especially against going there since being left to die there – and though they all had to do it in order to keep the darkspawn at bay, the thought of living in a place so very similar to that…she couldn’t imagine it. If it weren’t for Duncan she wouldn’t have had to.
 
Given all that she had heard of their population problems, she never would have expected to find an area where people were packed so closely together. There was filth in the street and filth on the people but they seemed not to care or to even really notice. Most of them sported brands but not all – but why would those that didn’t have to choose to live down here? For that matter, why would any? Going to the Surface was risky and uncertain but it couldn’t possibly be worse than here. She had never seen such misery on the Surface although, admittedly, there was a lot she hadn’t seen up there. There were dwarves that had turned old and broken before their time and the air was thick with hopelessness and desperation. And fear! These people were all afraid of something, but what? Or were they just afraid in general and didn’t even have the luxury to have a single target to direct their terror towards? And where did the carta fit into all of this?
 
Suddenly Aunn could understand why she’d never been allowed to come here before. She had to say, that decision was one that she couldn’t really blame her father for.
 
“Why do the people live in such squalor?” Sten demanded. “And why do their leaders let them? It is irresponsible.”
 
“And why don’t the poor rise up against their betters?” Morrigan added. “They might not win – although they generally have superior numbers – but to just lie down and accept it? I have never understood that.”
 
“And to think that I once thought that Alienages were as low a place as people could live,” Zevran remarked, shaking his head. And since the elves appeared to be the ones most oppressed on the Surface, it would appear that she had been right that things down here were worse. It was a little embarrassing, to be honest, showing outsiders the darkest side of Orzammar. This was a place even she had never seen – it wasn’t ‘proper’ – and now it would be used to help judge her people.
 
“I don’t like this place,” Shale said bluntly.
 
Trian barked plaintively.
 
All of them turned to Aunn for an explanation but she really had none to give. “I don’t know. Why doesn’t anybody rise up against those that won’t let them better themselves? According to my brother, the casteless make up a full sixth of the population. I don’t know if that’s true or where he got that information from because records on these kinds of things just aren’t kept. Maybe they’ve just spent so long like this that they can’t really convince themselves that they could take down those in power?”
 
“I think that I understand,” Zevran said quietly. “I’ve spent a great deal of time by the sea and, more specifically, at the docks. Do you know what happens when you put several live crabs in a bucket?”
 
Aunn wordless shook her head.
 
“One tries to escape and the others just drag it back down and ensure that they all die together,” Zevran explained. “I do not really understand why they do that but it happens time and time again. If they were alone, they could easily escape. If they didn’t sabotage each other, they could all escape as well. They do sabotage each other, however, and they do doom themselves. It’s the same with the humans and elves that I’ve seen…and, I suppose, the dwarves. Maybe if there wasn’t interference, a few casteless could escape their fate-”
 
“A few do,” Aunn cut in. “By joining the Legion or becoming a noble hunter.”
 
“But surely not everyone can do it,” Zevran pointed out. “I have found that people would rather wallow in their misery with the people around them than see someone else rise above it. These people are being oppressed from all sides. It is understandable that their social betters are trying to keep them here but working against each other is another problem.”
 
Aunn frowned. As it happened, Zevran’s analogy actually reminded her of the Diamond Quarter as well. Whenever one house or noble began to rise in prominence, everyone else – not wanting to lose their own position – teamed up to try and keep things the same way. That, she could understand as it appealed to their own self-interest and the exchange of power was really all relative anyway. This…not so much.
 
“To answer your question, Sten, the people in charge don’t care about the casteless. At all,” Aunn told him impassively. “They’re not real people, remember? They have no obligation to take care of those that don’t even exist.”
 
“That is foolish,” Sten declared.
 
“It is what it is,” Aunn said simply. She noticed a small group of brands walking towards them. Unlike the others, they had a certain swagger about them and were wearing poorly pieced together armor that appeared to be crafted from whatever material could be salvaged. They also had some basic weapons on them. “Is there a problem?” she asked sharply.
 
The one in front grinned at her. “No, no problem. We’re just going to take everything you have.”
 
“Oh, does this mean we get to crush heads now?” Shale asked excitedly.
 
“Yes, Shale, this does mean that it’s time to crush heads,” Aunn confirmed, pulling out her sword.
 
It was really remarkable how no one even looked up as they violently killed several people in the middle of the street. They didn’t even bother trying to loot their corpses as they clearly had nothing worth stealing. Most people averted their gaze as the group walked by but finally they came across someone who didn’t flinch as they looked at her.
 
The woman in question was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed and made no effort to stand up once she noticed their approach. She had a very weathered face, long, tangled hair, and mere rags to wear. “Well, look at that,” she drawled. “It's not often ol' Nadezda sees a fine-dressed stranger here in Dust Town. Help a poor cripple?” Aunn wondered briefly whether she should have tried to find something that stood out less than her current armor complete with its Aeducan insignia but quickly decided that it would have been a wasted effort. She was far cleaner than any of the people here and had no brand, not to mention that trying to find rags to wear would have been quite an ordeal. And nothing would ever make her companions not stand out here.
 
As to the beggar’s request…Aunn considered the matter. Had Wynne, Leliana, or Alistair been there they would have insisted on finding out just how much she needed and then handing it right over without a second thought. Aunn, however, wasn’t so sure. In addition to the fact that they simply couldn’t save this woman, there was no guarantee that she’d use it for food instead of alcohol or whatever else it was that the casteless used to forget about their lives. Even if she did intend to use it for food, if she really was a cripple (and at a glance it appeared that she was but who knew?) then giving her money could just make her a target and someone healthier and stronger than she could attack her over the coin. Just the same, they did need information and as Nadezda seemed the only person willing to talk to them it would pay not to alienate her. “Of course,” she said smoothly, quickly reaching into her pouch – she hated having it open down here as it made her paranoid that someone would grab it and take off – and pulling out five silver. She literally wouldn’t even notice that it was gone but Nadezda was eyeing the coin reverently.
 
“Thank you, my lady!” Nadezda exclaimed gratefully. “You are as kind as you are beautiful, you know that? I definitely owe you. When I get back on my feet, which would be easier if my feet still worked, then I’ll make sure to find some way to make it up to you. But hey, you got a vice to fill? I can set you right up.”
 
“My vice of choice is information,” Aunn announced. “So you have any to offer?”
 
“I do,” Nadezda confirmed. “So what do you want to know?”
 
“We’re looking for the carta,” Aunn announced. “And yes, I know that asking about them is likely to get their attention. Since we’re looking for them, that’s kind of the whole point. Do you know anything about them?” She really didn’t know how big this organization was.
 
Nadezda laughed. “Know them? I used to run with them back before I got crippled. Let me tell you, it’s far bigger now than it was in my day. Beraht used to run it but Jarvia took over a few months ago and she’s already got every able-bodied duster dancing to her tune.”
 
“Do you have any idea where I can find her?” Aunn pressed.
 
“Well, it won’t be easy,” Nadezda cautioned. “Keep in mind that Jarvia’s gotten real paranoid and I don’t want to start nothing with her. Beraht was killed by one of his own and she’s looking to avoid the same fate so she's got carta members all carrying these finger-bone tokens. She scratches some mark into them, so she'll know they came from her. There are doors to her base all over the city, but only one is ever open at a time, and if you show up without a token, you'd never know it was there. I don’t know where you could find one, though.” Her expression suddenly turned both hopeful and desperate. “But…but that’s worth something, right? Maybe just a little more…”
 
Aunn sighed. She hated having to give money away but Nadezda had given her some very useful information – if it was true – and the fact that she did this could put her in danger and so what was another five silver anyway? “Here you go,” she said quietly, handing the money over. “One more thing before I go…I can understand if you think that this is too personal to answer but I want to make sure that I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.”
 
“Ask away,” Nadezda invited, staring at the two five-silver pieces in her hands like they were her salvation.
 
“How did you get crippled? Was it the carta?” Aunn asked, feeling a little awkward.
 
“If you hadn’t already given me so much I’d have said yes to get some sympathy coin but you look like you’d rather hear the truth,” Nadezda said, her voice suddenly flat and emotionless. “I was running protection for the carta when some guardsmen caught me. Duster I was with had coin for a bribe, but I took a stand. Guardsman broke my sodding kneecaps and had me kneel in dung until the infection set in. Never healed proper.”
 
Aunn was suddenly finding it a bit difficult to breathe. For all the trouble that she’d had as a noble, she really was incredibly lucky to have been born into that caste, wasn’t she? She could understand and completely agree with guardsmen breaking up her and her partner’s attempts to exhort others for protection money. Guardsmen were always going to be bribable so that was no surprise (wasn’t that one of the reasons that the carta was doing so well now and hadn’t already been taken out?) and even breaking Nadezda’s kneecaps was something she could understand. High unnecessary as there were other ways to go about dealing with casteless – although she supposed it was better than death and arresting her would have led to that – but something had to be done or she’d just go out again and bother someone else or come back to that same person when the guards weren’t there. To purposely cause an infection by forcing her to kneel in dung (and with two broken kneecaps!)? That was just cruel and sadistic and could serve no possible point. The worst part was that it seemed that that was a result of her defiance. Aunn was generally a pretty defiant person herself and had the world been completely upside-down and she’d been born a casteless then she’d probably have done the same thing and then her life would have been shattered just as surely as her kneecaps. “That…people do that?” she asked, feeling very sheltered all of a sudden. “The guards can get away with that?”
 
“Of course they can,” Nadezda said bitterly. “You're born to wear a branded face in Orzammar and you'll live your life in Dust Town. There’s nothing I or anyone else here can ever do to change it. But hey, if you think they shouldn't, you take them fancy clothes and tell the Assembly attacking a casteless should be a crime.”
 
“I…” Aunn trailed off uncertainly. She knew that people looked down on the casteless – to put it mildly – but for it to be completely acceptable to just outright attack them and to purposely cripple them? That was okay? She guessed it shouldn’t be that surprising since they weren’t considered people and therefore had no rights or protections but just the same…Aunn didn’t consider any of the animals she met (not even smart ones like Trian) to be people and yet she wouldn’t deliberately torture one. What was wrong with some people? Did they have any idea of the reality of what they were condemning the casteless to? Did they even care? Suddenly all Aunn wanted was to be gone from this horrible place so she could try to get her thoughts in order but she couldn’t. Not yet. If she left now she’d only have to come back later to take care of Jarvia and she didn’t ever want to have to return. “I’ve got to go. Take care of yourself.”
 
With that, she walked as quickly as she could without making it clear that she was fleeing that conversation.
 
“H-have you a coin to spare, m'lady?”
 
Aunn looked up to see a plain-looking brunette around her age with less hopelessness but more nervousness than most of the others she had seen and good, solid clothes of the mining caste.
 
The woman noticed that she had Aunn’s attention. “It's for my son,” she explained quickly. “He's sick. He hasn't any clean clothes to wear, or anything to eat today. N-neither have I.”
 
“Your face isn’t marked,” Aunn pointed out. “You can’t be casteless. Why are you here?”
 
“My name is Zerlinda and I have no caste!” Zerlinda declared dramatically. “My family has made it perfectly clear that I am not welcome in any mining caste hall unless…but no. I don’t even want to think of it!”
 
“What does your family want you to do?” Aunn asked, genuinely curious. Zerlinda was clearly miserable here and yet she was forcing herself to stay anyway. Why?
 
“My son…” Zerlinda’s face softened as she thought of him. “His father is casteless. My parents want me to abandon him in the Deep Roads and pretend that I never bore him! When I refused, they stripped my caste and told me that the only way back is to do as they demand. But…he’s my son! How can they possibly expect me to kill him?”
 
“I don’t know,” Aunn said quietly. Some people simply didn’t have a problem killing relatives and since she would, at least, never be able to do it so casually she couldn’t hope to explain that mentality.
 
“The Shaperate teaches that only those born of true lineage exist but they’ve never carried a child,” Zerlinda said bitterly. “I’ve seen a lot of babies in my day and my son is just the same as them. He doesn’t look like trash, he looks like a baby. He cries like any other infant and smiles when he's warm and full. I can't kill him because of an accident of birth. It’s not his fault that I had relations with a casteless man and he isn’t a girl.”
 
“Keep in mind that I can’t promise anything,” Aunn cautioned. “But if you tell me how to find your family then I can try to talk to them for you.”
 
“You would do that?” Zerlinda breathed, unable to believe it. “But why?”
 
Because her own father hadn’t been willing to even endanger his precious throne that turned out to not be so important after all in order to save her and this woman was willing to give up everything and live in Dust Town in order to save her son. She could hardly tell Zerlinda that, though. It wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted getting around and, knowing her luck, it would. “I don’t want to see a child suffer.”
 
“Then I cannot offer enough gratitude. But I warn you, my father is a stiff-necked man. His name is Ordel and he's usually at Tapsters in the evening,” Zerlinda told her, looking like she couldn’t bear to hope.
 
“I’ll go find him once I’m done down here,” Aunn promised. “I have to go find an entrance to the carta right now and also one of their tokens to get in. I have no idea how long that will take so…take this.” She pulled out yet another five-silver piece and handed it to the stunned Zerlinda.
 
“Oh, to think that a stranger would be so kind when my own family is trying to get me to murder my son! Listen, I haven’t been down here for very long and so I really don’t know how to help with that,” Zerlinda said apologetically. “But since you’re trying to save me…I did see a few people who I’m pretty sure were carta members going into that house over there.” She gestured to a house at the end of a row of identical houses, built crooked and frail. “And good luck!”
 
Aunn walked back to her companions who had been waiting a few feet back.
 
“Are we done attempting to solve the problems of everyone here?” Morrigan asked, annoyed.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aunn claimed. “I was just gathering information.”
 
“What kind of information could you have possibly gotten from two beggars?” Morrigan asked disbelievingly.
 
“Apparently that house has some carta members that we can attack and find out how to enter their base,” Aunn responded. “And they’ll have a token we need to steal in order to get in anyway.”
 
“I do so love walking into obvious traps,” Zevran said cheerfully. “Well, shall we?”
 
“And then we’ll get to Jarvia and go back to worrying about the Blight?” Sten demanded.
 
“…Eventually,” Aunn agreed.
 
“Let’s just go,” Shale said, marching off towards the probable trap.
 
Sure enough, the minute they stepped inside the house (which looked just as messy and neglected inside as it did on the outside), they found four thus waiting for them with their weapons drawn. Aunn briefly wondered why they felt the need to do this inside as the would-be robbers who had attacked when they had first arrived in Dust Town hadn’t.
 
“Well, look what we have here...” the leader said smugly. “Jarvia said you were looking for trouble. Congratulations, you found it.” With that, he lunged at them, tragically forgetting that he was outnumbered and that while they were all resistant to magic that hardly made them immune to it.
 
Soon enough, the thug in charge was holding up his hands and calling for an end to the fight. “D-don't kill me! Sodding ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface? You fight like a bleedin' archdemon!”
 
Insulted, Aunn’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t learn to fight on the Surface.”
 
“Well whatever they teach you up in the Diamond Quarter is just as terrifying,” the thug assured her. “You killed the others so quickly…”
 
“If you would like to avoid their fate, I would strongly recommend telling me where I can find Jarvia,” Aunn told him. “And for that matter, why did you even attack me?”
 
“Jarvia said you've been asking about…” the thug explained. Misreading her ‘how did she hear that quickly’ look, he snapped, “Oh, don't look at me like that! I got a kid. I got no other way to bring in coin. Will you…will you really let me live if I tell you?”
 
“I always keep my promises unless I have a very good reason not to,” Aunn replied. “And I have no pressing need to see you dead.”
 
The thug nodded and nervously wet his lips. “Alright then. The base is below the city. You can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open. Can I go now?”
 
Aunn accepted the token and then shrugged. “I really don’t care what you do at this point.”
 
“Really? Oh, thank you. You're a good person,” the thug said. His gratitude would be a little easier to take if it weren’t for how absolutely shocked he was about the whole thing. It wasn’t like she was even doing anything particularly kind, just not seeing the need to kill someone she’d already beaten and who wouldn’t have much time to warn the carta about her. Besides, they’d find out that she was there soon enough. “How do they say it? Oh, right. The ancestors have shown their favor. Bless you!”
 
With that, he ran off.
 
“You know,” Zevran remarked idly. “I haven’t had to slaughter my way through an entire criminal organization in quite some time. It really takes me back to my idyllic youth…”

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Dealing With Jarvia


Aunn’s lack of navigational skills had often been a source of frustration to her. Before everything had gone all wrong less than a year ago, Gorim had made sure to always make sure to handle that and to do it in such a subtle way that it wouldn’t be obvious that she had very little idea where she was going. She really did miss him sometimes for all that she’d been hopelessly busy.
 
This carta seemed like it had almost been designed to be difficult to navigate and she supposed that that could very well be true. Escaped prisoners wouldn’t be able to find their way out easily and any attack mounted on the base – such as the one she and the others were in the process of – would take awhile to reach the center of the base and thus leave the carta with plenty of time to organize a decent counterattack.
 
Aunn honestly felt as if she’d slaughtered her way through damn near the entire carta by the time she stumbled into the room with the prisoners. There were three guards in the room standing around and laughing. The quickly noticed the foreign presence and attacked, falling as quickly as any of their fellow carta members. Aunn was somewhat pleased that there were no frustrating traps or random mages to deal with in this fight as they’d faced more than enough of those on the way here.
 
There were two cells in the room and one of them contained a casteless man watching them warily. His face and hair were covered with dirt and grime and he looked almost unnaturally thin, grasping the bars of his tightly cell to stay steady on his feet.
 
“You’re no friend of the carta either, I see,” the man spoke up, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “What does that mean for us? Death, liberation, or are we to stay here?”
 
“Us?” Shale repeated curiously, looking around. There was only one prisoner that they could see. Were they missing something or was this man wrong? If he was speaking erroneously, was he lying, misinformed, or unbalanced?
 
The man nodded. “Yeah, me and Sereda. We’ve been here for…sod it all, I don’t even know how long. Since Jarvia took over.”
 
Zevran’s eyebrow’s shot up.”Truly? That means that it’s been not quite a year.”
 
“A year,” the man repeated hollowly. “That’s quite a long time. No wonder Sereda stopped eating.”
 
Since there was clearly no one else in the cell with that man, Aunn moved to the other cell and glanced inside. There was another dwarf in there leaning against the back wall. She – Sereda – was even dirtier than the other prisoner and Aunn could barely make out hints that her hair was supposed to be a bright orange color. She was even more emaciated than her fellow prisoner and it was a little difficult to look at her. She was still alive and awake, however, and was watching Aunn weakly.
 
“She stopped eating?” Sten queried. “How long can dwarves do that without dying?”
 
“Not nearly as long as qunari can,” Aunn told him, remembering that he’d been left in that cage back in Lothering for weeks without food and yet had suffered little ill effect. “Tell me, why are you here? And who are you?”
 
“My name is Leske and that’s Sereda,” Leske introduced. “We used to be members of the carta but last year we were sent to drug a Proving fighter so the man Beraht bet on would be guaranteed a victory. Unfortunately, he was drunk out of his mind by the time we showed up so Sereda donned his armor and won the whole sodding thing. Right afterwards, the fighter – I don’t even remember his name – managed to stumbled out onto the floor of the Proving ring, we got arrested, and Beraht had us spirited away back here.”
 
“Oh, I remember that!” Aunn exclaimed. It had happened just a short time before her exile. “I wasn’t able to see that Proving but I certainly heard all about the scandal. That was your friend? I’m impressed.”
 
“Yeah,” Leske said with a ghost of a smile. “That was Sereda. She always said that she was as good as any warrior caste and that day she really proved it. Of course, we both ended up paying for it. Jarvia said Beraht was going to kill us and so we broke out, found Beraht, and killed him. We were caught by the Proving Master and his guards right after leaving the shop in the commons that the carta was using as a front.”
 
Aunn frowned. “Why did you kill Beraht? He might not have been willing to let you get away with causing such a scandal and costing him money but the odds were better than after you killed him because then nobody would let you walk away.”
 
“I know,” Leske confirmed. “And we weren’t going to go after him at all but on our way out we had to walk past the room Beraht was in and the door was so open so-”
 
“He was sending men out to rape and kill my sister,” a rusty voice croaked. Aunn looked over to see a fire burning in Sereda’s eyes. “He implied that he had already slept with her.”
 
“Rica was a noble-hunter for Beraht,” Leske explained. “If she had sex with him then she risked having his child and then losing her chance to bear a noble’s son as she’d have wasted her fertility so sleeping with her was really stupid of Beraht as he was risking his investment. We don’t know what happened to her.”
 
“A noble hunter named Rica and who has dark red hair done up in a style that looks like mine?” Aunn ventured. Could it be the same girl who was the mother of her nephew?
 
Leske looked startled. “Yes. Have you heard of her?” he asked doubtfully.
 
“Unless I’m very much mistaken, she’s Bhelen’s concubine and the mother of his son,” Aunn revealed.
 
“Bhelen?” Sereda asked, stunned. “As in…Prince Bhelen?”
 
“Indeed,” Aunn confirmed. “He’s currently trying to become king and that’s why I need to kill Jarvia.”
 
“You’ve helping Prince Bhelen take the throne?” Leske asked.
 
Aunn hesitated. “Well…not at present. But either way, you’re right that I’m no friend of hers so we’ll let you out. I’m not sure if you have anywhere to go but you two should really get something to eat soon, especially her.”
 
The moment Leske was free, he rushed to Sereda’s side – only stumbling a little – and helped her to her feet.
 
“No,” Sereda said stubbornly. “No, if you’re going to kill Jarvia then I want to be there.”
 
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Leske scoffed. “I’m in no condition to fight and you’re far worse off than I am which is something for which you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking, going on a hunger strike like that?”
 
“I was thinking that I wasn’t about to spend years rotting in that cell,” Sereda shot back. “And I didn’t really have any other ways to kill myself. Fortunately, another option burst in here a few minutes ago and killed all the guards. Still, I’m not leaving until I see Jarvia dead.”
 
“If you come with us you’ll just get killed,” Morrigan said bluntly. “And you’ll hold us back as you cannot fight in the condition you’re in now.”
 
“Morrigan’s right,” Aunn agreed. “You can’t come with us – and that’s non-negotiable – but if you wait here and stay out of sight you should be safe enough and we’ll come find you once she’s dead.”
 
Sereda’s jaw worked and for a moment Aunn thought that, despite her inability to even stand unassisted, the casteless girl would refuse. She deflated suddenly. “I suppose that’s fair. As long as she ends up dead, I really don’t care who does it.”
 
Aunn nodded and quickly left the two casteless behind in the carta prison. She wouldn’t admit it aloud, of course, but seeing the pair rotting in prison, mostly forgotten…it scared her, made her almost grateful for how short a time she had had to spend in a cell.
 
Not far from the prison was a door that opened to reveal a casteless woman standing at the center of the room as if waiting for them. There were also several thugs arranged throughout the room and all facing Aunn and the others. Given that Jarvia (was that this woman here before them?) had already known that they were asking around and the complete and utter lack of subtlety that they had displayed upon entering the carta, their presence here likely surprised no one.
 
“So…those useless nobles up in the Diamond Quarter finally realized that they’re losing control of the city,” Jarvia said with grim satisfaction, a smirk playing on her lips. “But still, no one sends their own men to do it and it’s a wandering do-gooder here to ‘save the day.’”
 
‘Wandering do-gooder’? Aunn had honestly never thought of herself in that manner and it was actually kind of amusing. She’d have to remember to tell Alistair about that at some point; it would be sure to please him. “You’re a fool, Jarvia,” Aunn said coldly.
 
Jarvia’s eyes flashed. “I’m a fool, you say? I’ve taken Beraht’s quaint little operation and I’ve turned it into a powerhouse in less than a year! I’ve gone further than he ever dared and if you don’t hold your tongue then I’m going to cut it out!” Well, it looked like Aunn had correctly identified her main target here.
 
“That’s exactly what makes you a fool. Everyone knows that those with castes don’t care about those without them. Had you stuck to harassing your fellow brands then, frankly, no one would care. But no.” Aunn shook her head. “You took advantage of our weaknesses that have been brought forth because of y father’s death. Sure, you could start operating more openly and make more of a profit but did you really think you’d get away with it once things sorted themselves out? Your operations are embarrassing the Assembly and so your death will be a useful way to gain support for one candidate to take the throne.”
 
Jarvia laughed darkly. “You think I’ll go down so easily? That I’ll lie down and die so a meaningless king can replace the last one? I grew up on the streets of Dust Town and if you are who I think you are, this carta’s taken you down once before.”
 
Aunn’s smile was icy. “Ah, thank you ever so much for reminding me of the other reason I had to kill you.”
 
“Let’s see if you can put your sword where your mouth is, Princess,” Jarvia sneered, taking out a sword of her own. She raised her left hand almost lazily and the arrows began to fly.
 
The arrows were more of a nuisance than anything else as Morrigan stepped out of range and began casting her spells against her resistant but not immune opponents. The other four had to dodge the blasted things in between getting close enough to attack the carta members. Their job was made a lot simpler as, fortunately, the weapons and armor the carta possessed were just as substandard as those of the other casteless they’d fought had been.
 
Jarvia kept darting around the room making it nearly impossible to hit her so despite the fact that Aunn was chiefly interested in killing the carta leader, she decided it would be more practical to take on out the archer’s first. One of the nice things about using a sword against an archer was that while they often had a dagger on them so they could fight enemies that were closer to them if they had to, if one moved quickly enough then they could take the archer out before they could switch weapons.
 
Things were chaotic for quite a few minutes before finally the last distraction fell and only Jarvia remained. There were dead bodies everywhere but she had a dwarf, an elf, a golem, a qunari, a mabari, and a mage all focused exclusively on killing her. Despite all of that, Jarvia put up quite a fight before Trian ripped her throat out.
 
“It is done,” Sten said solemnly. “She was a worthy opponent.”
 
“Since its people cannot do magic themselves, why are there so many mages here?” Shale wondered.
 
Aunn thought about it for a moment. “Well, they’re all apostates. Orzammar doesn’t want the Chantry getting a foothold here and wooing people away from our reverence for our ancestors and the Stone so we never allow Chantry personnel – including templars – into the city. As templars cannot enter, I guess apostates feel safe here.”
 
“Wouldn’t that cause problems with the Chantry?” Morrigan inquired. “The templars hunt even Flemeth and I so I can’t imagine that they’d take kindly to being kept out of your entire kingdom.”
 
“Perhaps not,” Aunn agreed. “But they’d take even less kindly to losing their lyrium monopoly for not respecting our sovereignty.” It occurred to her that she was speaking of Orzammar as if she were a part of it. She had to admit, she liked that. “Okay, so Lord Harrowmont asked me to look for evidence – probably in the form of letters – that Bhelen had this carta kill Trian. Jarvia basically confirmed that they did when she said that the carta has taken me down once before but we need proof.”
 
Everyone spread out to do just that and Aunn took a moment to properly examine the carta queen’s throne room. There were several paintings on the wall, all very ugly and tacky. There were misshapen busts lying strewn about and an imitation rug covering the floor. It was really impossible to look at without cringing and Aunn could feel her inner snob coming alive and decrying this room. Clearly Jarvia was trying – and failing miserably – to imitate the noble caste. Oddly, it made Aunn feel almost sorry for Jarvia. She was trying so hard for something that she would never be able to reach and that had likely been one of the impetuses for her to go too far too quickly and to get cut down so unceremoniously at the height of her success. She vaguely wondered what would happen to Dust Town now.
 
“Aunn won’t do it. Send your men instead,” Zevran said suddenly.
 
Aunn turned to Zevran in confusion. “What?”
 
“That’s what the letter on top says,” Zevran answered, holding up a stack of papers. “Do you recognize this handwriting? Is it your brother’s?”
 
Aunn went over to take a look. “No, that’s not Bhelen’s writing,” she announced after a moment. “He’s too smart for that. But unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s Vartag’s. That letter’s very careful not to actually mention killing Trian but even if they’re extremely careful and have Vartag write everything, there are only so many people willing to believe that Bhelen had no idea what Vartag was up to and the letters have to at least give us some sort of idea that they’re talking about Trian’s death.”
 
Trian growled in displeasure.
 
Aunn smiled faintly. “Hearing about how someone with your name died must be rather disconcerting, huh? I’m sorry about that. This is really important but won’t go on forever.”
 
Somewhat mollified, Trian rubbed up against Aunn’s leg.
 
“I think we’ve found what we’re looking for,” Aunn decided. “Let’s go tell Leske and Sereda and hope there’s a faster way out of here than going back the way we came in.”
 
They quickly made their way back to the carta prison where Sereda was sitting and tapping her fingers impatiently while Leske jumped when he saw them.
 
“Is she dead?” Sereda demanded.
 
“She is,” Aunn confirmed. “We’d have brought back her head as proof but that seemed a bit gruesome. Do you know of a quicker way out than going back through Dust Town? You mentioned one earlier.”
 
Leske nodded. “Oh yeah. There was this shop that the carta operated. I’m not sure if that’s still owned by a someone associated with the carta or not but we should still be able to use it.”
 
“I still can’t believe that my sister probably ended up with a prince,” Sereda said in disbelief as she climbed shakily to her feet. “My nephew may become king!”
 
Or he may be cut down before his time for the high crime of being born into the nobility. It was strange, really, how Rica had as much as said that nobles deserved what happened to them because their caste was corrupt and yet the man she seemed to love and her own flesh and blood were both noble. Were they the sole exceptions? Even stranger was looking at this dirty, starving girl who had spent the last year rotting in a cell and realizing that, despite the fact that they’d never met before, they called the same boy nephew. Aunn didn’t even know his name.
 
They made their way through a passage that looked as though it hadn’t been used in awhile but that fortunately still opened into a shop.
 
“W-what’s going on?” a frightened yet still angry voice demanded. “You made a hole in my wall!”
 
“It was already there,” Leske said flippantly. “And if we just move this back where it was then you won’t even know it’s there.”
 
“Except that I just saw it!” the merchant cried. “Where does that hole even come from? And who are you people?”
 
“It leads to the carta,” Aunn explained. “These two are escaped carta prisoners, I’m the Grey Warden that arrived in the city yesterday, and these are my companions.”
 
The merchant put a hand to his forehead and groaned. “By the Ancestors…as if Dagna leaving weren’t bad enough!”
 
Aunn cleared her throat. “You’d be Dagna’s father, then?”
 
“Yes, why?” the merchant asked suspiciously. “How do you know her? Did you have anything to do with her leaving without so much as a goodbye?”
 
Aunn laughed. “Really? I’m here to gather troops to face the Surface Blight and working to put a king on the throne to address the issue. Don’t you think I have more important things to worry about than sending your daughter…somewhere?” Of course, she really didn’t but no need to let him know that.
 
“You’re right,” the merchant said. “I apologize. But…the carta is connected to my store? If it’s not too much to ask, could you all please leave so I can recover the wall and try to pretend that none of this ever happened?”
 
“Fine by me,” Sereda said. “Let’s go look up my sister, salroka.”




“So you’re back,” Corra said, not sounding thrilled to see her. Then again, since the last time she had encountered Corra – just the day before – the tavern owner had accused her of fratricide and had been downright hostile towards her, Aunn considered this an improvement. She had sent her companions back to their rooms as there wasn’t much else to be done that day and she didn’t need everybody around when she tried to help Zerlinda or met with Harrowmont again. “I’m still not serving you.”
 
“Then isn’t it fortunate that I’m not here for a drink?” Aunn asked rhetorically. “I’m looking for a miner named Ordel. I don’t know what he looks like or his house but I was told he spends his evenings here.”
 
“He’s here,” Corra confirmed. “But I don’t know why you’d need to…you know what, I probably don’t want to know. He’s right over there, still dusty from the mines. He’s been down for a couple of weeks now so don’t expect him to be too chatty.” She jerked her thumb over to a corner of the establishment where a sour-looking man sat.
 
“Thanks, Corra,” Aunn told her before heading over to talk to Ordel.
 
“Go away,” Ordel said gruffly as he noticed her approach. “I’m not in the mood for company.”
 
“You’re Zerlinda’s father, right?” Aunn asked, just to make sure. There could be multiple Ordel’s, after all, and it would do no good to try and convince him to take in the girl only to find out that this wasn’t her father. Technically, there could be multiple Zerlinda’s, too, but it seemed unlikely that there would be more than one miner Ordel with a daughter named Zerlinda.
 
“Not anymore, I don’t,” Ordel said venomously. “I assume you met a casteless **** that claimed that she was once mine?”
 
Aunn drew back, appalled. He was calling his own daughter a ****? Technically she was casteless but still…For all of her family problems, she couldn’t even imagine her father or even her brothers calling her that. That was definitely a bad omen. Still, she had promised that she’d try and she wasn’t the type to give up that easily. “I did,” she said neutrally. “I heard all about how she’s determined to stay down there with her son if that’s what it will take to keep him alive. I was just down there earlier today. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been there but it’s a horrid place. I kind attacked almost the minute I stepped foot into it. It’s absolutely filthy, beggars line the street, there’s no food…she doesn’t know how to survive down there and she has to support an infant on her own? She can’t fight and she’s ‘wasted’ her fertility on a casteless child already plus the carta’s in disarray and her begging skills leave much to be desired. She won’t last more than a few weeks down there, you know, and her virtue will last even less.”
 
Ordel flinched as if he’d been struck. “You don’t…I’ve never been down there, no, but it hardly surprises me that the casteless would live in such filth. That Zerlinda would choose to live down there when she doesn’t have to…I don’t understand it. I just don’t understand it. That brat can’t possibly be worth it, he doesn’t even exist! She knows what she has to do to come home and she has to know how much better her life will be without it. Do you really think that she’d stay down there just for its sake?”
 
“I do,” Aunn confirmed quietly. “And I think you know why. Could you just pretend that your child never existed?” Even her father hadn’t been able to manage it completely for all that he’d made practically no effort to save her, he’d still sent her the letter and the shield of Aeducan.
 
Ordel deflated. “I’ve been trying. It’s not as easy as I thought. I don’t want anything to happen to Zerlinda and Ancestors know if my wife heard what you just said she’d march down to Dust Town herself and bring Zerlinda and that thi-child back with her. We never meant to hurt her it’s just that…oh, never mind that. Just tell her to come home. We’ll be waiting for her. For both of them.”




Zerlinda was shivering when Aunn returned to her. A baby was wrapped up tightly in her arms.
 
“It does look like a baby,” Aunn remarked almost idly.
 
“I told you that that he did,” Zerlinda said almost defensively. “Did you speak to my father? What did he say?” She looked afraid to hope.
 
Aunn smiled at her. That Ordel had been willing to – eventually – look past his grandson’s casteless status to save his daughter was promising. “He said that he wants you both to come home.”
 
“B-both of us?” Zerlinda couldn’t believe it. “But he’s always referred to my baby as ‘it’! He says that he’s trash. But maybe…maybe mother convinced him. Or you did. It really doesn’t matter which, I guess, because I can go back home! Oh, thank you so much! You’ve saved not only my life but the life of my son! If this were a story, my son would grow to manhood and pledge himself as a knight in your service! When he grows up, I will send him to you. I promise!”
 
Aunn’s smile grew as she watched Zerlinda’s exuberance. “Go,” she urged. “They’re waiting for you.”
 
“I will,” Zerlinda said. She kissed her baby’s nose. “Do you hear that? We’re going home.” With that, she started to walk proudly towards the gateway separating Dust Town from Orzammar proper.
 
Aunn watched her go feeling like she’d done a really good thing for once and not because she was trying to convince anyone of anything or gain something out of it. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that just because Zerlinda was back with her family that all of her problems were solved (particularly if the child had already been branded and she had to admit that he was casteless) but it was better than Dust Town. It had to be.




Aunn returned to Lord Harrowmont later that night. She had to say, being in the Harrowmont estate did wonders for her morale given how openly supportive they were of her unlike any of her actual relatives who, when she passed them in the street, simply glared at her and muttered something about how they couldn’t believe she’d have the gall to return. Really, they were all acting as if they thought she were here to cause trouble first and foremost and her concern about the Blight was secondary. While she’d admit that she was enjoying stirring things up, if it weren’t for the treaty then she wouldn’t have returned at all even had the guard let her in.
 
Harrowmont had been sitting at his desk but he stood to greet her when she was shown into his study. “News of Jarvia’s death and the cleansing of her carta have already spread through the city,” he told her, pleased. “I suppose it was unrealistic to expect them to surrender.”
 
“If they had then they would have only ended up dead either way and perhaps imprisoned first so I can understand why they chose to go down fighting,” Aunn replied. “How will this affect things?”
 
“By this point, Bhelen’s supporters are those who he’s bribed heavily or offered positions to once he takes the throne and those who do not feel that I’m strong enough to take the throne and don’t wish to back the losing side,” Harrowmont explained. “Your winning the Proving as well as the strong showing Baizyl and Gwiddon made on top of the fact that it’s been over three weeks now since Endrin died and I have managed to keep the throne from Bhelen has changed many deshyrs minds about that and the fact that you wiped out the carta with such a small force in my name will further ease doubts about my ability. Nothing is certain, of course, but we’re a lot closer to victory than we were before.”
 
Aunn reached into her pack and pulled out the letters that Zevran had found. “I managed to find letters from Vartag to the carta. They don’t specifically say that they’re talking about having Trian killed but it’s heavily implied and Vartag is Bhelen’s second so we can work with these.”
 
Harrowmont accepted the letters and looked at the top one. “ ‘Aunn won’t do it. Send your men instead’,” he read. “What is this referring to?”
 
“I think it’s likely that this is talking about how the night before Trian’s death, Bhelen told me that he’d overheard Trian giving orders to his men to have me killed in the Deep Roads and subtly attempted to convince me to strike first,” Aunn explained. “I told him that I was going to wait to see if I could find any more proof of Trian’s sororicidal intentions before acting and then the next day the carta killed him. Before Jarvia attacked me, she called me princess and said that if I was who she thought I was then her carta had already brought me down once which further points to Trian’s death being what is arranged in these letters. There was quite a bit of price haggling and the amount Vartag eventually paid is large enough to point to him arranging for the carta to do something very big.”
 
“There is enough to link Vartag to Trian’s death, I believe,” Harrowmont agreed. “But not necessarily Bhelen. He’s kept Vartag around for years as someone with little regard for morals and he will undoubtedly claim that Vartag acted alone. Some will believe him. Still, making these letters more well-known won’t hurt our cause any.”
 
Aunn nodded her agreement before changing the subject. “Have you ever been to Dust Town?”
 
“Me?” Harrowmont asked, surprised. “Once or twice. It’s not a very safe place to be.”
 
“Most assuredly not,” Aunn concurred. “I was attacked almost immediately.” She wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. She was having doubts that she didn’t think that he would understand and that she knew Bhelen’s faction would prey upon. “The conditions there were deplorable. One of my companions has spent time around the lowest rungs of Surface society and even he was horrified by what he saw. How is it that conditions there can be that appalling?”


Harrowmont sighed heavily. “Those with castes don’t spend much time in Dust Town if they ever go there and so once they do they’re sometimes overwhelmed by the experience and don’t understand how even the casteless can live like that. I am on the right track about your concerns?”
 
“You are,” Aunn confirmed, wondering where he was going with this.
 
“The casteless, for all that they don’t exist, needed to live somewhere so they began to gather together at the unused edge of the city generations ago,” Harrowmont informed her. “It wasn’t developed like the rest of Orzammar and so really there is no possible way that it could ever be as nice as the city proper but it doesn’t have to be as bad as it is. The fact that no one cleans up their own filth, the fact that they form violent gangs to exploit each other and – on occasion – the more respectable elements of our society, the fact that those that have managed to gain some sort of coin from these gangs don’t use it to help their fellows out are their own doing. The choices they’ve made only serve to show why they’re so reviled in the first place. Decent people would have more concern for making sure they didn’t live in such squalor and would be capable of showing at least a token concern for their fellows.”
 
“I see,” Aunn said slowly. He was correct in his assessment of the carta but just the same…the casteless hadn’t been legally allowed to work for generations. They could beg but no one ever game them any money or even took any down to Dust Town. It seemed to her that it was an inevitable cycle. The Assembly had declared the casteless to be beggars and thieves so they wouldn’t let them get a chance to do honest work. Because of that, the only way the casteless could survive was by begging or stealing which just ended up convincing people that they were right about the casteless. It had always been that way and she’d never stopped to really question it before but her companions didn’t understand and when they tried to get her to explain it to them she had found herself at a loss for words. It reminded her of the elves, really. All of her companions accepted that they were either considered wild savages like the Dalish or viewed as second-class citizens no matter what they did because of their species. They hadn’t been able to adequately explain that, either, and the parallels were just now beginning to hit her. That was a dangerous viewpoint but how could she just ignore the truth she’d been forced to see? More and more, she could understand why going to the Surface was so strongly discouraged.
 
Aunn decided to change the subject. “Last night, I met a casteless girl in the Diamond Quarter. She said her name was Rica and that she was the mother of my nephew. I hadn’t heard anything about having a nephew.”
 
Harrowmont’s eyes widened in realization. “Little Endrin. It hadn’t occurred to me that you might not know about him.”
 
“So it’s true,” Aunn murmured. “I have a nephew.” It didn't surprise her in the slightest that Bhelen had named him after their father. It seemed a little...sad, in a way, that he'd spent so long waiting desperately for approval that had not only never come but he'd been rejected almost entirely by the end. Not that she was particularly inclined to feel sympathy for him, of course.
 
“He was born only a month ago,” Harrowmont told her. “And he was presented to your father during his final days. He was glad to meet his grandson even though things were…strained between him and Bhelen. Bhelen treats the mother well, so I’ve heard, and there are rumors that he intends to wed her. Personally, I don’t believe that as he’s too pragmatic to be willing to cause such an uproar over such a minor matter.”
 
“Did you meet the child?” Aunn wondered.
 
Harrowmont nodded. “I did. He was only a few days old but he had already begun to resemble his father…except for the nose. You should be pleased to hear that he had his mother’s nose.”
 
“I have no idea why you think that would concern me,” Aunn lied, refusing to acknowledge the childhood fear she’d had of the trademark Aeducan nose and the distaste she’d still felt for it years later. “And we really do have more important things to be talking about. So, what else do you need me to do to help you secure the throne?”
 
“Like I told you, I’ve been gaining a lot of support since you’ve returned and Bhelen has no plans to take that lying down. He called for another vote in two days time. Legally, we can’t discuss anything else but the vote until it occurs. While my support is strong, I’m not sure if it is enough to defeat Bhelen at this point in time. Bhelen can keep calling for vote after vote and if there really is a Blight you cannot afford to wait for however many weeks that will take. Not to mention the fact that I’m getting impatient not knowing if I’m to be king or executed and the city is on the brink of civil war,” Harrowmont said seriously. “We cannot afford to open the gates right now and reveal our internal strife but at the same time, the city will starve if we do not. A prolonged contest is in no one’s best interest.”
 
“How can I change that?” Aunn demanded.
 
“I told you that Branka was still missing earlier,” Harrowmont replied. “My men have been tracking her journey through the Deep Roads – and so have your brother’s men – and I’ve pieced together enough of a map to get you to the Ortan Thaig. I’m hoping you’ll be able to take over from there and locate her. Things are desperate enough that only the word of a Paragon will be able to settle the matter in the near future.”
 
“I can’t make it to even the Ortan Thaig and back in two days,” Aunn cautioned. “Let alone keep going, find Branka, and convince her to either come back or give some other indication of her favor.”
 
“You won’t have to,” Harrowmont promised. “I will try to stall the vote until you return. I’m not sure if I will be able to succeed if you take too many weeks but I have been a member of the Assembly for many, many years now and if there’s one thing that’s taught me it’s how to stall for time.”
 
Aunn smiled at that. Normally that was one aspect to the Assembly that she found tiring but it was undeniably true and would actually work in her favor for once. “Of course, I’m hoping for the best but it wouldn’t do not to prepare for the worst as well. What if I find Branka and she elects to support my brother?”
 
Harrowmont was quiet for a moment, considering. At last, he said, “Paragons are the best among us and they embody the virtues that we all strive to attain. I trust that she will make the right decision. While I hope that that will be me, I could be wrong. I will respect her choice either way.”
 
Aunn somehow wasn’t surprised to hear that. Thus far, she hadn’t done anything to support Bhelen’s cause – not that she’d decided to do that – but she’d been counting on being sent after Branka. Now, she had no way of knowing whether she was even alive at this point but if she was then Aunn wouldn’t stop until she found her. Maybe this vote would already come to pass but she’d be in time to speak up at the next one or the one after that. Maybe spending time back in the Deep Roads would give her time to think on this as she could really ask Branka to support whoever and, from what she remembered of their Paragon, the former smith honestly didn’t care a whit for politics. Of course, being back in the Deep Roads again wouldn’t likely do anything to influence her in Bhelen’s favor but she had seen quite a bit in Dust Town and so the opportunity to sort it out in peace would be a welcome one. “I hope she’ll make the right decision as well.”




The next day, Aunn and her companions stepped out of their Grey Warden lodgings to find Rica waiting for them.
 
“What’s this?” Aunn asked rhetorically. “You’re back to tell me more about how I’m a horrible person who deserves everything bad that’s happened to me?”
 
Rica looked conflicted. “I still have little faith in your morals but…yesterday, something strange happened. My little sister, who I’ve long believed dead, returned to me. She said that you saved her from Jarvia. Now, I know that you just killed Jarvia and the carta to gain support for that beastly Harrowmont but you didn’t have to free my sister and I never would have thought you would. This isn’t easy to say but…thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Aunn returned simply.
 
Rica stared at her for another moment before nodding and hurrying away.




The entrance to the Deep Roads had just come into sight when there was another delay.
 
“Hey Princess, hold up,” Oghren ordered.
 
Aunn stopped and allowed the almost sober warrior to catch up to her. “Yes, Oghren?”
 
“So I’ve been asking around and it turns out that you’re not dead after all,” Oghren announced. “Well, probably not at any rate.”
 
“Truly, this is groundbreaking news,” Shale deadpanned.
 
“Is that a golem with a personality?” Oghren asked, tilting his head. “You don’t see one of those every day. Of course, the way the way Shaperate’s got the remaining golems under lock and key ‘in case of emergency’ you don’t see a golem at all every day.”
 
“Did you need something, Oghren?” Aunn asked civilly. “Or did you just want to let me know that I am, in fact, still among the living? Because I’m nearly positive that I told you that the last time we spoke.”
 
“You did,” Oghren confirmed. “But I figured that you were either lying or I’d just had too much to drink again. Or both.”
 
“Point?” Aunn prompted.
 
“Ah, right. Well, you said that you might be looking for Branka and I heard that you’re setting out to find her now. I want to come with you,” Oghren announced.
 
Aunn thought about it. On the one hand, Oghren drank too much and would probably get on not only her nerves but those of everyone else during the who even knew how long that they would be in the Deep Roads. On the other hand, he was Branka’s husband who may be useful in not only finding her but in convincing her to get involved in politics for once, he was a sodding good fighter, and they really needed all the help they could get. Besides, if she could put up with Wynne and her presumption to preach about things she really had no idea about then she could put up with Oghren’s crassness. “Fine.”
 
“Now listen here,” Oghren began angrily. “Just because my reputation might not be the best anymore doesn’t mean that I don’t still…” he trailed off as he realized what she’d actually said. It was a little sad how he just assumed that he’d be denied. “Really? Just like that?”
 
Aunn shrugged. “Why not?”
 
“Well…not like I’m trying to talk you out of taking me or anything but most people seem to think I’m unbalanced,” Oghren told her sheepishly. “Especially after that incident with Lord Meino’s son.”
 
Aunn just waved his concerns off. “And I have to deal with the fact that I’ve been falsely condemned for fratricide. The fact remains that you’re willing to help me without any strings attached and I’m about to head deeper into the Deep Roads than anyone save the Legion ever goes so I’d be a fool to turn down your offer.”
 
Oghren shook his head, bemused. “And so I see that the Princess is rescuing the Paragon after all. Who would have thought? Since we’re going to be working together I should probably tell you that I know what Branka is after but I think I’m going to keep that to myself until we reach the Ortan Thaig. After all, once you know that you might not need me anymore and I’d really hate for you to change your mind.”
 
Aunn frowned. “That’s definitely not something I want to hear but as long as you agree to tell me the minute we reach the Ortan Thaig then I guess I can live with it. It’s not like I really see a pressing need to know what she’s been searching for before we get there, after all.”
 
“Then what are we waiting for?” Oghren asked gleefully.
 
Zevran sighed. “It would be so easy…but I assume that we will be expected not to say anything about him either?”
 
“Not until we’re safely in the Deep Roads, no,” Aunn answered. “And keep in mind that the two of us share the same species and that I can get easily offended.”
 
“I will,” Zevran assured her, looking much more cheerful as he was undoubtedly coming up with barbs he would soon be free to trade with Oghren.
 
“If he is a warrior then his presence is a good thing,” Sten said, looking a bit doubtful that Oghren was, in fact, a warrior but he’d likely change his tune once he saw Oghren killing something. He wasn’t allowed to even arm himself within the city (which was a very dangerous thing nowadays with the tension running high) so he was sure to have a lot of pent-up aggression to take out on the darkspawn.
 
“I knew this annoyance-free group was too good to last,” Morrigan said mournfully.
 
They began moving again only to be stopped by the guards upon reaching the bridge between Orzammar and the Deep Roads.
 
“I’m sorry but, Grey Warden or no, you may only enter with a deshyr’s permission,” the captain told them.
 
“There’s a Blight going on on the Surface so surely the Deep Roads are less dangerous now than they usually are,” Zevran said reasonably.
 
“They are,” one of the other guards confirmed. “Did you say that that’s because of a Blight? I’d heard the rumors but…” he shuddered. “We really need a king and how.”
 
“That’s why we need to get into the Deep Roads,” Aunn explained. “To help settle the election.”
 
“I would ask how going into the Deep Roads could at all have anything to do with making sure we have a new king but I’ve decided that I probably don’t want to know,” the captain declared.
 
“Since the Assembly decided that I was supposed to be banished to the Deep Roads a few months back, surely you can’t imagine that they’d have a problem with me going back there and potentially actually getting around to fulfilling my sentence,” Aunn suggested.
 
The captain frowned. “You may have a point there. But the Assembly didn’t decide anything about any of your companions and I doubt you would have brought them with you just to leave them at the border.”
 
“Why are we wasting so much time?” Oghren demanded. “Branka’s not going to find herself, you know!”
 
The captain winced. “You’re looking for Branka? Good luck. As I doubt he’s going to go away until he gets to pass, I suppose that I might be willing to accept his permission. He could’ve easily been the deshyr for House Branka if he were less…controversial. Do the others have your permission to pass through to the Deep Roads, Oghren?”
 
“What? Of course they do,” Oghren snapped. “Now can we go?”
 
“Be careful down there,” the captain said, standing back to allow them to pass. “We’ve stopped patrolling so running into the Legion is really the way you’ll be able to have anyone standing in between you and the darkspawn.”
 
Aunn took a deep breath and stared straight ahead of her. She had almost died here and now she was expected to enter it again. The situations were vastly different and she was more-or-less voluntarily doing this instead of being sealed inside to die and she had top-of-the-line equipment and armor as well as several companions as opposed to being alone and dressed in rags.
 
Still, she did not want to go back there.

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Deep Roads


In the past, Aunn had loved going down to the Deep Roads but that was more due to the enjoyment she got from combat and the feeling that she was doing her part to protect her home than anything else. It was practically impossible to like the Deep Roads for its own sake. Very shortly after entering the Deep Roads, she had had to hurry past the tunnel she had recognized as leading to the Aeducan Thaig. Nothing in this world could compel her to go back down there anytime soon. She had heard that Anwar Dace was on an expedition down there so despite the fact that Delala was the deshyr she could just bet that Vartag, Lady Dace, or even Bhelen would have been all too eager to send her back down to the place where her brother had died and she had been first accused of kinslaying.
 
“In Antiva, I had heard that the Deep Roads had been lost to time,” Zevran remarked, looking around with some disgust. “I think I had been happier believing that.”
 
“Not all of them, no,” Aunn said with a sort of grim satisfaction. “Just many of them and every now and again we rediscover new Thaigs that had been previously lost. Recovering them are slow going and very dangerous, but the miners can usually be counted on to know what they’re doing.” New Thaigs were easily recognizable with their giant steel doors decorated with ancient words and symbols so at least no one had to worry about accidentally stumbling across one and causing problems.
 
Aunn glanced around at her surroundings. Darkspawn corruption was everywhere, plainly visible in the oil and filth on the floor, on the wall, and even on the ceiling. The darkspawn tainted the very stone and that seemed almost symbolic. There were times they had started down a cavern and been unable to pass because it had caved in and even the paths that could be travelled through were partially filled with rocks and dirt.
 
There was no natural light down here and that was clearly bothering Zevran, Sten, Morrigan, and Trian. Shale and Oghren didn’t appear at all bothered but Oghren had gained his fame down in the Deep Roads and Shale was a golem and thus from Orzammar. Being underground, Orzammar had no natural light either but rather a very elaborate system of artificial lights. Sure it wasn’t as bright as the sun but as far as Aunn was concerned, that was a good thing. Her eyes were getting used to the familiar lighting of Orzammar again and so if it were bright when she had to leave then leaving was sure to hurt her eyes.
 
The members of the group were all carrying torches so that they could see each other and a circle around them that was also bathed in light. Still, that hadn’t been enough to prevent them from getting ambushed by Thaig crawlers and nearly ambushed by darkspawn. Being a Grey Warden did have its perks.
 
“Is it true that the Deep Roads go all the way to the Tevinter?” Zevran inquired curiously.
 
Oghren shrugged. “Oh, who even knows? The tunnels are old. They may even go further.” He stopped suddenly. “Hey Princess, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
 
Aunn quickly checked her map and then looked around again. “I can’t believe that I’m about to say this but…I think I am. This is Caridin’s Cross.”
 
“This is good?” Sten asked shortly.
 
Oghren laughed. “Good? This is sodding fantastic. Caridin’s Cross was the biggest crossroads of the old empire. You could get anywhere from there…including the Ortan Thaig.”
 
“And then you’ll tell us why we’re here,” Aunn said pointedly.
 
“I’ll keep my end of the bargain, Princess. Caridin’s Cross,” he repeated reverently. “I never thought I’d live to see it.”
 
Aunn was a little impressed as well. Harrowmont’s scouts must have been searching for weeks in order to track this place down. She was standing in a place of the past and, despite her deep dislike for the Deep Roads, she couldn’t deny that it was a little thrilling.
 
“Then maybe you’ll be able to die happy,” a sneering voice spoke suddenly.
 
Aunn automatically moved towards the sound of the voice and illuminated a good half a dozen men and one bronto all waiting patiently in the dark.
 
“Ambush,” Sten said disapprovingly. “How cowardly.”
 
“I assure you that we’ll feel very badly about it as we stand laughing over your corpses,” the same voice replied.
 
As the group had been prone to doing, they quickly put their torches down so that they wouldn’t go out, light anything on fire (which was harder than it sounded given that the darkspawn corruption was highly flammable), or make it impossible to see and drew their weapons. Fighting with such a limited light source was a challenge but they had been down in the Deep Roads for a few days and had gotten plenty of experience.
 
“So it is not enough that we must stay in this horrible place looking for a dead woman?” Morrigan demanded once the fight was finished and they had all recovered their torches. “Now we must be attacked by dwarves as well?”
 
“What do you mean a dead woman?” Oghren demanded angrily. “Branka had dozens of some of Orzammar’s best warriors down there with her and-”
 
“She’s just annoyed,” Aunn quickly interceded. The last thing that she needed was for Oghren to outright attack Morrigan. “If she really felt that this was hopeless she wouldn’t have even bothered to come.”
 
“Certainly not without the entertainment factor that Alistair would bring, no,” Morrigan confirmed.
 
Oghren looked a little mollified. “Who in blazes attacked us?”
 
“My brother’s people, most likely,” Aunn opined. “He doesn’t even have to have sent them. His followers are very…devoted.”
 
“That is certainly one way to put it,” Shale said dryly.
 



A little over two more days took them to the Ortan Thaig.
 
Oghren moved immediately to examine the walls. “I can see Branka all over this place,” he declared. “She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel, check their composition. I doubt she’s still here. She’d have sent out sentries by now and three hundred dwarves are kind of difficult to hide.”
 
“That they are,” Aunn agreed. “So since we’re now here in the Ortan Thaig, perhaps you could tell me what it is that Branka’s been looking for?”
 
Oghren hesitated. “I suppose I did promise that once we got this far I’d tell you, didn’t I? Mind you, being abandoned in the Ortan Thaig would be worse than never being allowed to come at all but you’ll find out sooner or later. Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void.”
 
Aunn inhaled sharply but before she could say anything, Shale beat her to it.
 
“That Anvil of the Void, it says?” Shale asked, intrigued. “That was what Caridin used to make me, right?”
 
Oghren nodded. “So the stories say. It’s been lost for generations but Branka wants to find it or at least find his research so that she can recreate it. Mad as a nug at a tanner's shop, Branka was, but if anyone can do it then it’s her.”
 
“That’s bad, that’s very bad,” Aunn said, horrified. “How are we supposed to find our way from the Ortan Thaig to…wherever the Anvil is supposed to be? Did she leave some record of where she was planning on heading?”
 
“Probably,” Oghren replied. “Branka was always melodramatic like that. If she was leaving the relative safety and security of an established though lost to time Thaig to go searching for the Anvil then she would have left some sort of a farewell and, if we’re lucky, directions.”
 
They began to search and quickly came across a man watching them warily from the shadows.
 
“Hello?” Aunn called out to him.
 
“Stay away!” he called back, a kind of mania in his voice. “There’s nothing for you here! It’s all mine! You've come to take my claim! You city-folk are all alike: stone-blinded blunder-foots! Well, I found it first!”
 
“He’s addled,” Oghren declared. “Word is that the only way to survive down here once your supplies run out is to eat the darkspawn dead. If you’re not a fighter than you may have to resort to that earlier if you want to be hidden from the darkspawn. Of course, tainted as they are that’s can’t possibly be good for you and I think that we’re looking at the aftermath.”
 
“It burns when it goes down!” the man cried out. It was difficult to see him properly as he took care to remain just outside of the light. “You’ll just bring the dark ones. Crunch your bones, they will! Mine claim! Mine!” With that, he ran off.
 
“The dark ones?” Aunn repeated. “I don’t sense any darkspawn. Of course, it could always be-” She broke off as a Thaig crawler descended from the ceiling right on top of her and knocked her to the ground. It took a bit of doing but eventually she managed to free one of her arms and slice off one of the Thaig crawler’s legs, causing it to scurry back and get off of her. She hadn’t ever really had problems with Thaig crawlers in the past but the further she got from Orzammar the more common they seemed to be. Given their great love for knocking her to the ground and trying to bite her or just wrapping her up in web, she was quickly developing an intense hatred for these creations despite their short acquaintanceship.
 
Once the last of the Thaig crawlers lay dead at their feet, Trian took the initiative to head after the man they’d seen.
 
“Your damn dog is going to get itself killed,” Oghren remarked casually as they followed it into the cave.
 
“Trian can handle himself,” Aunn replied simply.
 
Oghren barked out a laugh. “You named it Trian? With a name like that, I wouldn’t be so sure of his ability to keep himself alive.”
 
"So long as he keeps out of politics then he should be fine," Aunn responded flippantly.
 
"He's travelling with you, Princess, which makes his chances of doing that so low he might as well just quit now," Oghren told her.
 
When the light from their torches fell upon the man, he screwed his eyes shut and shrunk back against the cave wall allowing Aunn to study him. He looked to be only a few years older than she herself was although who knew how exposure to the taint affected one physically? Well, she had seen a few people at the beginning stages but they had quickly ventured off into the Deep Roads to die an honorable death before the taint had a chance to really become advance like it seemed to for this man. He was hunching instead of standing up straight which even the casteless she’d seen would do. His brown hair was messy and matted with dirt and the same darkspawn corruption on anything else which, while disgusting, was probably to be expected.
 
She brought her torch back to lessen the glare of light in the man’s face and he opened eyes that were unnaturally bright. “Go away!” he ordered petulantly. “This is mine!”
 
“This looks like Branka’s old campsite,” Oghren noted after poking around a bit. “It seems to have been long-since abandoned…well, by her anyway.”
 
“This isn’t Branka’s, it’s mine!” the man said again. “I found it, I drove the Thaig crawlers out, it’s mine!”
 
“I promise you that I am not here to take anything from you, least of all this spot,” Aunn told him with a reassuring smile.
 
The man’s own face relaxed into a slightly disturbing grin. “Pretty lady... pretty eyes, pretty hair... smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock... So... the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms and pretty rocks?”
 
Ruck. She supposed that that was this man’s name. “I won’t take anything without asking, especially not your ‘shiny worms’,” Aunn pledged. “But if it’s something that I need, would you consider trading for it?”
 
“Oh. Ruck not mind that, maybe...” Ruck said grudgingly. “What do you want?”
 
“Do you have any papers from the Thaig?” Aunn asked, mindful that Oghren thought Branka would have left a note behind.
 
Ruck nodded quickly. “Oh, yes. Lots of stuff.” He gestured to his right.
 
Morrigan stepped over to the box he was referring to. “These papers appear to be records of some sort. The first few pages show genealogies.”
 
“Those must be House Ortan records,” Aunn realized. “They should be all dead but that information would still be invaluable to the Shaperate.”
 
“They may not all be dead,” Zevran reminded her. “Remember that little girl, Orta? Her information may be in here.”
 
If she could prove herself an Ortan (although who would want to be called Orta Ortan anyway?) then she would have a seat in the Assembly. If Aunn had made it possible then she would have a new deshyr ally. Orta was bound to have no idea what she was doing, of course, but the truly inept were rarely killed because it was just as easy to simply ignore them if not find a way to use them. “That’s an excellent point, Zevran. Was there anything else?”
 
“I’m not going through all of these papers,” Morrigan said flatly. “Although there is a journal in here.”
 
“Let me see that,” Oghren said gruffly, reaching over and plucking the journal from Morrigan’s hands. “Let’s see…Today we set out on a perilous journey to reclaim the glory of our past…blah blah blah…How freeing it is to be here in the Deep Roads and away from all that suffocating adoration…blah blah blah…oh, here’s something.”
 
“Well?” Aunn prompted.
 
“Huh? Oh, right.” Oghren cleared his throat. “ ‘We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil…If we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him... No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell.’ See, I told you she would do something like that. Sodding drama queen. Still, just goes to show that she’s still thinking about me.”
 
“The…the Dead Trenches?” Aunn couldn’t believe it. “That’s where the old Legion of the Dead fortress used to be. That’s been darkspawn territory for generations now.”
 
“We’ll have to go past that,” Oghren pointed out. “The Dead Trenches are past even that. Fortunately, she’s enclosed a map because I sure don’t know how to get there from here.”
 
“She certainly seems determined to find this Anvil,” Zevran noted. “In my experience, such dedication is both admirable and truly frightening. We shall see what this leads her to.”
 
“Finding the Anvil of the Void would be well and good,” Aunn mused. “But I certainly hope I won’t have to step over Branka’s corpse to get to it. The Anvil won’t give Orzammar a king, we need Branka.”
 
“What are the ‘Dead Trenches’?” Zevran inquired.
 
“The Dead Trenches used to be the fortress of Bownammar which was the stronghold of the Legion of the Dead,” Aunn explained. “It was forcefully abandoned generations ago and the Legion never did manage to take it back. It was built by the Paragon Caridin.”
 
“The one who built this Anvil,” Zevran said.
 
Oghren nodded. “Indeed. Caridin used to be an Ortan before becoming a Paragon which is why Branka came here to look. Rumor has it he liked being an Ortan better than having his own house.”
 
“Does this mean that the pretty lady would like to but the box?” Ruck spoke up suddenly.
 
Aunn jumped; she had forgotten about him. “Yes, I do. How much would you like for it.”
 
Ruck tilted his head to the side, thinking. “I want…five sovereign.”
 
Aunn’s eyes widened. Five sovereign? For a box full of papers? Granted, without Branka’s map they might never find the Dead Trenches and the other papers were priceless historical documents but he couldn’t realize their worth. Still, getting into an argument with someone so clearly disturbed was, in any way, a good idea. “Done.” She reached into her pouch and pulled out five shiny gold coins.
 
Ruck took them as if he had never seem something like that before. Chances were, he hadn’t seen solid currency in quite some time. “Thank you, pretty lady. You’re very kind even though you have the darkness inside of you like Ruck.”
 
Aunn stilled. “The darkness?”
 
“Oh, yes,” Ruck said pitiably. “It was slow at first but once you take in enough darkness you do not miss the light so much.”
 
“We…you and I aren’t the same,” Aunn told him, a little disturbed. They both were tainted, yes, but he had been driven mad by his taint while the Grey Warden ritual had given her resistance to hers. If she hadn’t found Duncan, if she hadn’t found a path to the Surface at all, if she had stayed down here…she might have ended up just like him. “What happened to you? How did you come to be down here, forced to survive on darkspawn flesh? Were you exiled?”
 
Ruck shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Ruck was once a smith. I went on a Deep Roads excursion some…five, I think. Yes, five years ago. But Ruck got very, very angry and then someone was dead! I couldn’t go back to the city. They wanted to send me to the mines and then everyone would know! There would be so much disgrace and the mother didn’t need that. Instead, I fled here. I-It’s not so bad, really.”
 
Aunn really didn’t know what to say to that. An impulsive mistake and an attempt to flee from justice – and it looked like it actually would be justice this time – had destroyed Ruck’s life. No matter how horrible the mines were, it couldn’t have been worse than this. Yes, Ruck’s honor was still intact but his sanity was not and if his family was worth anything then they wouldn’t think that that was worth it.
 
“It’s been getting louder lately,” Ruck said wistfully. “All of the dark ones went south. The dark mater calls to them with his beautiful voice. There was so much joy when he awoke! After the dark master awoke, he called his children and they all went. I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty. I didn’t, though. Ruck is a coward.”
 
Aunn stepped back. “Are you saying…is the Archdemon here?”




“Let’s go this way,” Shale said suddenly, pointing down a tunnel that they were just about to walk past.
 
“Why?” Aunn asked. “The Dead Trenches are south and that’s east.”
 
“Yes, but there’s something down here,” Shale said insistently.
 
“There is usually ‘something’ down any which path one takes,” Morrigan replied. “Why should we take this one?”
 
“I’m going down this path,” Shale announced. “Follow or don’t at your leisure.”
 
Aunn sighed. “But we’re already way over the two days that we had before the vote.”
 
“Those deshyrs’ll keep talking forever,” Oghren said dismissively. “If we’re in a hurry it’s to make sure that Branka’s not doing anything crazy. This election will take quite some time to solve, especially since you put Harrowmont on a more even footing with Bhelen.”
 
Well that settled that then. They were going to follow Shale on whatever mad quest she was on. As a dwarf raised in Orzammar, Aunn really couldn’t bring herself to carelessly lose a perfectly good golem and since all it would take to keep Shale was to take a slight detour then she would just have to put up with it.
 
They entered a Thaig that Aunn didn’t recognize. There were plenty of darkspawn everywhere and also a lot of deep stalkers. Deep stalkers were one of the most annoying creatures in the world. They were really small and travelled in huge numbers so even though they were not difficult to kill it did take awhile to get rid of the entire group of them and they emitted an annoying sound whenever they attacked…by spitting which was rather disgusting. Aunn didn’t know how her story would end but she knew that she was not about to be taken down by a sodding deep stalker.
 
Shale barely seemed to notice the deep stalkers and yet still managed to squash quite a few. The perks of being a giant stone creature. Maybe Shale was onto something with all of her golem superiority talk (although Aunn had yet to be convinced that dwarves weren’t, without a doubt, the best species to be).
 
“I think that statue might be important,” Shale said eventually, pointing to something that had just come into view. “Of course, we’ll probably need to kill that oversized ogre first.”
 
Okay, Aunn took that back. Ogres were definitely more annoying than deep stalkers. And so were sharlocks. Deep stalker came in close three, however.
 
Morrigan cast an ice spell at the offending darkspawn which allowed it to be brought down with far more ease than usual and officially made her one of Aunn’s favorite people.
 
Shale couldn’t be bothered to be grateful, however, as she immediately walked over to the statue she’d been looking at earlier. “According to this, this is the Cadash Thaig. Have you heard of that?”
 
“It was lost ages ago,” Oghren told her. “Well, until now, I guess.”
 
“There are a list of names and dates here of those who…” Shale trailed off, sounding stunned.
 
“Who what?” Aunn prompted.
 
“Who became golems,” Shale finished.
 
Aunn’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying that golems were once dwarves? What does the Anvil do, anyway? Are you on the list then?”
 
“I don’t remember,” Shale said, sounding vaguely frustrated. “I wish that I did but I can’t. This place looks familiar to me, though. And I see a Shayle of House Cadash listed which I think might be me. But…this makes no sense. I couldn’t possibly have been that squishy once.”
 
“If your name was Shayle then you were definitely a woman,” Aunn told her. “And even if you’re right that most people are ‘squishy’, you have to admit that our group has proven rather resilient.”
 
“Perhaps,” Shale allowed. “But you’d still squish easier than I would. Let’s go. I’m rather eager to find the Anvil all of a sudden.”




“The bloody doors of Bownammar. I never thought I'd ever see these, you know?” Oghren asked almost conversationally.
 
“Neither did I,” Aunn agreed. “We’re a long way from Orzammar but, compared to just how far the Deep Roads once extended, we’re really not all that far at all and yet we’re right in the heart of darkspawn territory already.”
 
“Dwelling on things like that will just depress you,” Oghren told her. “And why bother feeling all sad about it when you can just slaughter every darkspawn you see?” And so it would seem that she wasn’t the only one with that questionable coping method. “I do wonder why it was so big, though. You think Caridin was compensating for something?”
 
“The man was a dwarf who built giant golems,” Morrigan replied. “Of course he was.”
 
Aunn almost choked at that. While what Morrigan said might very well have been true, Caridin had still been a Paragon and one of the more impressive ones. While creating the Anvil hadn’t been as awe-inspiring as single-handedly mobilizing Orzammar and preventing it from falling like the rest of the Empire, it was a good deal more exciting than the discovery that nugs were edible.
 
They continued walking until they saw a group of Legion fighters facing off against a gang of darkspawn right in front of a bridge that they’d probably need to cross. They quickly joined the fray and once the battle was over, one of the members of the Legion turned to her. “I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have expected to see you still alive down here after all this time. Or surrounded by Surfacers and with far better equipment than you could usually scavenge in the Deep Roads.”
 
It took Aunn a moment to realize what he was talking about. Clearly he’d been down here since before she had gotten back to the city. “I’ve only been in the Deep Roads for the past two weeks.”
 
The man snorted. “I hate to break it to you but it’s been a lot longer than that.”
 
“Since my exile, yes,” Aunn confirmed, “but I quickly encountered some Grey Wardens, left the Deep Roads with them, became one myself, and am now here to seek support against the Blight.”
 
“Your exile doesn’t mean anything to the Legion of the Dead. Despite what we may have thought of you in life, the dead can afford no such prejudices,” the man told her, a faint hint of disapproval in his tone nonetheless. “I am Kardol, the leader of this division of the Legion.”
 
“What do you mean by referring to yourself as dead?” Sten demanded.
 
“When we enter the Legion we take an oath,” Kardol explained. “It ignores caste, family, and history so as to allow us to act without distraction. We will accept anyone who wishes to join but there can be no coddling. If you can’t fight, you won’t last long. Not that any of us really last long. We’re the ones always on the front lines and trying to stop the darkspawn advance. Without us, Orzammar would be all but defenseless between expeditions.”
 
“That sounds like a worthy order,” Sten said approvingly.
 
Kardol nodded his acknowledgement of Sten’s words. “The coming Blight is obvious to us and so your arrival is not surprising. I would have expected more Wardens, however.”
 
“Actually, I’m the only Warden here,” Aunn corrected. “There were some…problems a few months back that greatly reduced our numbers.”
 
“When doesn’t the Surface have problems?” Kardol asked rhetorically. “So why are you here? You’re not nearly old enough to be down here to commit suicide and you wouldn’t have brought friends if you were.”
 
“The city has come to a standstill since my father died and only a king can send aid against the Blight,” Aunn replied. “Unfortunately, the election is taking forever and so I’m here looking for our missing Paragon.”
 
“Whoever told you that that was a good idea?” Kardol asked incredulously. “You of all people should know that we’ve got bigger problems then…oh, I see. Politics. The deep lords in the Assembly can’t make up their minds so they asked you to go chasing after a dead woman to make their decisions for them.”
 
“She’s not dead!” Oghren fumed.
 
“I haven’t seen her body, no,” Kardol admitted. “But it doesn’t matter how many able-bodied dwarves that she took with her. It’s been two years and past our line the darkspawn kill everything.”
 
“I take it this means that you’re not going to help?” Aunn asked, not really expecting an answer.
 
“Don’t get me wrong, I would be glad to lead an assault through the Dead Trenches but our oath doesn’t require us to pay any attention to politics. We follow the throne and the throne is empty. We have no orders and if Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont came down here personally I’d tell them the same,” Kardol declared.
 
“We’re heading deeper into the Dead Trenches on a quest that may very well be futile,” Aunn declared. “So you really have two options. You can just watch us do your job for you or you can help us out.”
 
Without waiting for an answer, she began to charge across the bridge with her companions following closely behind her. They had barely made it halfway across before darkspawn began to swarm out of every available space and head straight towards them.
 
As Aunn engaged her first darkspawn, she chanced a glance back towards Kardol. He looked really tempted to just let them get themselves killed for their reckless but then he sighed and directed his men to go after them.




“Is it just me or is there sacks of mutated flesh everywhere?” Zevran asked as he deftly avoided stepping on one such sack.
 
“There are sacks of mutated and corrupted flesh everywhere,” Aunn confirmed. She wrinkled her nose. “And I thought that the Deep Roads smelled bad.”
 
“Why is it here?” Shale wondered.
 
Aunn shrugged. “I really have no idea. I guess it’s some darkspawn thing? Although I’ve never seen a darkspawn in that particular hue before.”
 
“Do you hear that?” Morrigan asked suddenly.
 
They all quieted down and could faintly make out some crazed chanting.
 
“First day, they come and catch everyone. Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day, the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate. Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day, we hated as she is violated. Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.”
 
“She’s not very in-tune, is she?” Oghren remarked. Everyone stared at him. “What? Actually, that sounds a little like a cousin of mine. Hespith. This could actually be a good sign. We’re getting closer.”
 
“What do you suppose that chanting means?” Aunn asked as they started making their way towards the chanting which had started up again. She had a few ideas herself but they were all far too horrifying to voice aloud.
 
“I would assume that the ‘they’ refers to the darkspawn. We know that they eat people, yes?” Zevran asked matter-of-factly. “It would seem that this woman was ambushed by the darkspawn who only chose to eat the males. They seem to have done something to the women and possibly raped them. The women then changed, probably due to the taint, and started to feed on the males as well. What purpose this serves, I really can’t say. Unless, as the mention of sex suggests, this is where darkspawn come from.”
 
Aunn was silent for a moment as she let his words wash over her and confirm her fears. “You know, there are some questions that I really don’t want an answer to.”
 
“I realize that,” Zevran assured her. “But if this story is true – and it would certainly explain the sacks of flesh – and we’re heading in her direction then I can’t see how you could possibly hope to avoid seeing the answer.”
 
Aunn said nothing and continued towards the raspy chanting. They finally came across a dwarven woman dressed in rags who was on her hands and knees in a pile of flesh and filth. The woman started at the approaching footsteps and the chanting trailed off as she turned to face them.
 
The woman had stringy dark blonde hair that was greasy from not having been washed in some time and the darkspawn corruption. There were dark blotches on her face and her skin looked unnaturally pale (and given how pale living underground had made most dwarves, that was really saying something). Her eyes were hopeless and feverish. “What’s this?” she rasped. “New people? A golem isn’t unexpected but it’s so much smaller than the others. I’ve never seen a dog before or a…whatever that is. A human is so bland and unlikely and an elf is so exotic and impossible. A princess would also not be here and we left Oghren behind for a reason.”
 
“Yep, that’s Hespith alright,” Oghren confirmed. “We never really did get along.”
 
“I can see why if it is so rude,” Shale sniffed, put-off by the comment about her height.
 
Hespith looked trouble and unable to properly focus on them. “Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors.”
 
“You’re Hespith?” Aunn asked her. “What happened to you? Where’s Branka?”
 
Hespith drew back. “Do not speak that name! I…I have been down here for far too long. I have been forced to eat my kin and others who were caught. I am not killed, though. The others and I were fed. Laryn was my sister but at the end I wanted nothing more than to have her go first so that I would be spared. But was I really spared? She doesn’t even seem to care anymore. I don’t know how she can endure that. I don’t know how I endure this. IF I endure this. I had to watch…how could she do this to us?”
 
“What happened to Branka?” Oghren demanded, looking torn between his desire to start shaking her and his hesitation to go near her. As he had no immunity from the taint, it was probably for the best that his second inclination was winning out.
 
“N-nothing happened to Branka,” Hespith replied, beginning to sob. “It is all what Branka has allowed to happen. Ancestors forgive me, I was her captain and her lover and I could not stop her! In the end, I was as disposable to her as all the rest. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.”
 
“She was into females, too?” Oghren asked, sounding exasperated. “I don’t know why she felt the need to hide that from me. It’s not like I would have minded! Well…maybe a little if it was Hespith. But she was my cousin anyway.”
 
Hespith didn’t seem to hear him. “There is too much darkness here. The Anvil, it is in the darkness, surrounded by it, pulling Branka in. No... I swore not to speak of it, not to think of it. La-la-la-la-la. I will not hear any more about Branka.”
 
The implication of what Hespith had said couldn’t be missed. Branka, Orzammar’s first Paragon if four generations, had knowingly led her House into a trap and allowed them to be eaten and abused. And for what? Hespith had to be mistaken. Paragons didn’t just arbitrarily write off three hundred lives and give them to the darkspawn while they continued with whatever it was they were doing. They couldn’t. Paragons were supposed to be the best of the dwarves and if they could fall so far then what did that say about the rest of them? Aunn was no Paragon and she couldn’t understand.
 
“We should keep moving,” she said quietly.
 
“No!” Hespith cried out desperately. “No! Don’t leave me here! I won’t become like Laryn! I won’t! I won’t be like Branka, either!” She ran off.
 
“This is most troubling,” Morrigan remarked. “Do you suppose we’ll have to see this Laryn?”
 
“I sincerely hope not,” Aunn replied.




The creature before them, probably Laryn, could be nothing other than a broodmother. She had heard tales from those who had left their sanity in the Deep Roads of these creatures and their name seemed to imply that that was where darkspawn came from but the terrified survivors would never elaborate on what they’d seen. Aunn could now understand why.
 
The broodmother was naked but despite the fact that she had ten breasts (a pair of relatively normal looking ones followed by four rows of increasingly large and sagging pairs that reached all the way down to the ground) there was really nothing sexual or enticing about her. There were tentacles that emanated from her sides and that were swaying back and forth as she looked at them. She was many, many times the size of an ordinary dwarf and her feet, if they still existed, couldn’t be seen. This broodmother was immobile, then, but while she couldn’t attack them from where she was they couldn’t continue on their way without getting past her.
 
The broodmother was the same unnatural pink color as the sacks of flesh had been and Aunn wondered if those had come from her or from another attempt at making a broodmother. Surely such an…involved process was not going to have a perfect success rate. The broodmother’s arms were thick and meaty but the hands were a darker color and appeared to only have three fingers hanging uselessly like vestigial limbs. She had no hair to speak of and her head resembled a too-big misshapen egg and was bloated enough to give her the appearance of having far more than simply a double chin. Her eyes were too small to make out but there were lines on her face around where her eyes should be and her nose was also not something that Aunn could make out. Her mouth was stretched out in a twisted approximation of a grin. There was something that was both deeply disturbing and somewhat pitiable about this creature.
 
Aunn was having a little difficultly breathing. She was a Grey Warden now with all sorts of fertility issues and was only going to be here for a short while – and wouldn’t be coming back if she had any say in it – so she highly doubted that she was in any real danger of having this fate befall her. That said, she was a Grey Warden now and wasn’t going to be here long now. If she had been a good little girl and done what she was supposed to – namely staying in the Deep Roads like the Assembly had ordered her to – then she had seen just what kind of things that might have happened to her.
 
Before her return, she had really spent very little time in the Deep Roads and, before the day Trian died, always stayed with the main portion of the expedition which greatly decreased the danger that she’d been in. They always stayed in the sections of the Deep Roads closest to Orzammar and so it was fair to say that she really didn’t have much of an understanding of what it was like to be lost in the Deep Roads for any prolonged period of time.
 
Had she stayed, she might have been killed by darkspawn like she had been intended to be. She had no armor but sooner or later her pride would have probably crumbled and she would have taken some off of a corpse. She had killed scores of darkspawn and even with the lesser skill s she had possessed then she wouldn’t have been an easy target. The Blight causing darkspawn to retreat meant that the odds of her being swarmed by them (well, before getting to the Dead Trenches anyway) were far less than they would have ordinarily been.
 
Had she stayed, she might not have fallen in battle but the lack of supplies or a reliable untainted food source might have driven her to eventually ignore the lessons she’d learned as a child about not eating the mushrooms growing in the Deep Roads without having them thoroughly examined for the presence of the taint. Ancestors help her, if she had been starving enough then she might have even done as Ruck had done and eaten the corpses of darkspawn. Aside from just how gross that was, she hadn’t had any sort of resistance to the taint and so it would have destroyed her just as surely as it had destroyed him. Standing here now with her bag still full of supplies, it was easy to say something defiant about how she’d never be that stupid but the closest she had come to going hungry were those two days she had refused to eat after Trian’s death and before she had found the Grey Wardens. That hadn’t been the kind of all-consuming hunger she imagined that Ruck had felt when he had first decided that darkspawn were better than nothing and that the people of Dust Town seemed to regularly face. She’d have been better turning her sword on herself than going down that path but who knew what desperation, hunger, and even mania may have driven her to do?
 
The first option was what she had expected and really not all that bad considering. The second option was all sorts of horrifying and she would rather die than have that happen to her. Both of those could have been avoided by stabbing herself through the heart. This…she had no doubt that Hespith and the others would have found freedom in death had that been allowed. The darkspawn had swarmed them and taken their weapons. They had had no way to end things. If she had been swarmed by darkspawn and they hadn’t seen fit to kill her, she might have ended up just as Hespith or Laryn. She could have been forced to eat the tainted flesh of her fellows and watched helplessly as the others were taken and turned by the darkspawn. She might have hated herself for wishing that fate to befall the others first so that she could put it off just one more day but have been unable to deny that that was what she wanted. She might have been taken herself and violated by the darkspawn, having them spew in her mouth, growing many times her size until she was one them. She might have become a broodmother and had all of her work against the darkspawn rendered meaningless as she replenished their ranks. Who knew how broodmothers had children, how many of them they had at once, how often they could reproduce, how many years they would exist as darkspawn-breeders.
 
Bhelen. Bhelen would have done this to her. In all probability he hadn’t known any more than she had what happened beyond the line the Legion held. If he had known, would he have changed his plans for her? It was doubtful.
 
“Aunn?” Zevran asked, concerned, as he waved a hand in front of her face. She blinked and vaguely realized that he had been trying to get her attention for the last few minutes.
 
In response, Aunn took out her sword and headed towards the broodmother. The thing about fighting a broodmother was that its body would also be vulnerable to attack but the tentacles could come popping out of one of the multitude of holes around the cavern they were in and knock someone over. The tentacles were resilient but could also be sawed away at. The biggest problem that they posed was their ability to grab somebody and slowly start crushing them before anyone else noticed and attacked the tentacle themselves to force it to release its prisoner. When they had hacked off enough tentacles, the broodmother leaned back and emitted an unpleasant screeching sound that quickly brought darkspawn to its defense. While dealing with the far-easier-to-kill darkspawn, the remaining tentacles persisted in making a nuisance of themselves but were eventually subdued. To Morrigan’s delight, despite Laryn having once been a dwarf she proved no more resistant to magic than a normal darkspawn was.
 
At last, Aunn managed to get way closer to the creature than she had wanted to be (it wasn’t safe for the others to risk getting drenched in her blood as Aunn was) and stabbed it in the chest a few times. The broodmother reared back and flailed a bit before it slumped over in death.
 
Aunn immediately headed over for Morrigan who made a face at the sight of her. “You know water spells, right?”
 
Morrigan nodded and wordlessly cast one, washing away a good bit of the blood that had covered her and had fortunately not had time to dry.
 
“So if these broodmothers really do come from people then I guess that would explain why there are different kinds of darkspawn,” Oghren theorized. “I’m guessing genlocks come from dwarves. Hurlocks would either come from humans or elves.”
 
“Ogre would come from qunari,” Sten spoke up.
 
Oghren blinked at him. “Are you sure? They have horns.”
 
“Yes.”
 
Oghren shrugged. “Ogres come from qunari then. Suppose that would explain why they’re so rare. Shrieks are either elven or human depending on which one the hurlock is.”
 
There was a sound from above them and Aunn looked up to see that Hespith had somehow managed to get to a ledge on higher ground. She looked sadly at the broodmother. “That's where they come from. That's why they hate us... that's why they need us. That's why they take us... that's why they feed us. But the true abomination... is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love.... The Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal.”
 
With that, Hespith turned away and calmly stepped off the cliff and fell to her death.
 
Aunn couldn’t even begin to blame her.

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Decision Time


The ominous thud of the gate they had just walked through was more than enough to let Aunn know that they weren’t alone. She couldn’t sense any darkspawn in the immediate area, however, and presumably the Thaig crawlers and deep stalkers weren’t able to operate the ancient mechanisms. Golems might be able to but it was a little hard to miss creatures even Shale’s size, let alone the size that most golems were.

She stopped and waited for whoever was there to reveal themselves. Gates didn’t just close on their own, after all, no matter what the stories said. She didn’t have long to wait before someone appeared on a ledge up above them. Even from where Aunn was standing, she could tell that the armor the woman – well, probably a woman as she(?) was so dirty it was hard to tell – was wearing was far beyond most of the pieces she had ever seen. Her nose was huge and, to Aunn with her nose-complex, was enough to stop her from ever being considered pretty no matter how she would have looked without all the grime. She had a grim expression and her hair was carelessly tied back in at least two messy ponytails that Aunn could see. She looked vaguely familiar. Could this possibly be…?
 
“Branka!” Oghren exclaimed, confirming Aunn’s suspicions. He sounded happier than Aunn had ever heard him and she felt a strange pity for him. This woman – their Paragon – had left him for two years and had taken up with his cousin. Did he really expect a happy reunion? At least he got a reunion although it probably wouldn’t provide him the closure he was seeking, if, indeed, closure was all that he was seeking.
 
“Why am I not surprised that you came all the way down to the Deep Trenches, which have been lost to the darkspawn for generations, just to find me?” Branka asked disdainfully. Unlike with Hespith, her voice sounded just fine. Who was she talking to down here? Herself? Was someone else here? This really wasn’t all that far from where she had left the Legion. It was a wonder they had never stumbled across her. Then again, they were bigger on holding the line than in pushing forward and, given that their goal was to fight darkspawn and not go on a search mission, she couldn’t blame them. “I would have thought that forcing you to stay behind when I took everyone else with me into the Deep Roads would have been a hint too large for even the likes of you to ignore.”
 
Oghren shrugged, not really bothered by her harsh words. “What can I say? I’m kind of slow on the uptake sometimes.”
 
“Believe me, I noticed,” Branka said wryly. “And whose little expedition were you finally allowed to trail along on?” She looked them over. “Oh, what is this? Unless I’m very much mistaken, I do believe that Endrin’s little girl is leading up a team of Surfacers. Will wonders never cease? I suppose that something serious must have happened? Is your father dead, girl? He was on the old and wheezy side when I left.”
 
One would really think that a Paragon – an example of everything a dwarf could be – could stand to be a bit more polite but Branka had been like that since the first time Aunn had encountered her. As a smith, she hadn’t received the schooling in manners that all nobles did and as a Paragon it didn’t really matter how she treated people as she was above them all but it was still a little…unpleasant. Still, after two years in the Deep Roads and whatever had gone down that had led to the rest of her house being captured by darkspawn while leaving her untouched, it really was best not to call Branka on the fact that she had called her ‘girl’, spoken so flippantly of the king’s death, and referred to him as ‘old and wheezy’ for all that it was true.
 
“My father is dead,” Aunn confirmed. “And the Assembly is deadlocked. The election has been raging for weeks now and a Blight is going on. We need you.”
 
“By ‘we’ you really mean that you need me, don’t you?” Branka asked craftily. “Or am I to believe that the favored daughter of Endrin would come all the way down here to put a brother on the throne? You wish to become a ruling queen and you need me to do it.”
 
If things were different, that might very well have been the case. It wasn’t surprising that Branka thought that, really. If one saw someone they knew to be a princess standing before them and talking about how Orzammar needed a new ruler then what were they going to think? That she’d been exiled but refused to die and joined the Grey Wardens at the beginning of a Blight and she’d returned to pick a king to send troops to deal with said Blight…or that she wanted the throne herself. Bhelen and his followers would never accept her as a ruler, especially as she was still exiled. Harrowmont might, actually, but it wouldn’t matter as she simply couldn’t stay. There was a Blight to deal with, after all, and she had a duty to do. “Something like that.”
 
“The Assembly could put Oghren on the throne for all I care,” Branka said arrogantly. “It’s just another empty head and large ass sitting on a meaningless throne. What’s really important is the Anvil. It is absurd and insulting that our greatest weapon against the darkspawn, the only chance we really have against them, is lost to time! It’s hidden behind the darkspawn lines and the golems and traps keep trying to keep me out!”
 
“So you found the Anvil?” Aunn asked, surprised to say the least. The Anvil might not be able to crown a king but it would certainly change everything. “How can you be sure? Have you seen it?”
 
“Not quite,” Branka admitted. “But I don’t have to. It’s calling out to me…” she trailed off, looking distant. That was…worrying. “Caridin himself built the traps before you and I’ve seen evidence of several golems that lay beyond the traps. I’ve gotten past some of them but I’ve run out of people to test the traps on. What else could lie beyond these traps but the Anvil itself?”
 
“Are you…” Aunn couldn’t believe it. Hespith had warned them but it was one thing to hear it from her and another to hear it from the Paragon Branka herself. “Are you telling me that you led your house into traps and allowed them to die so you could try to get close to the Anvil? That you let the women be taken by darkspawn and twisted so that the darkspawn that came from them could provide more bodies to throw at the traps?”
 
“And what if I am?” Branka asked dismissively. “It was House Branka. I am Branka. They were mine to do with as I wished. They had pledged their loyalty to me and yet they came to me on their hands and knees and begged me to let them die! Hespith claimed to love and serve me and yet she left like all the rest. She swore she’d do what it took but in the end she tried to make me choose. She didn’t understand. Nothing and no one matters more than the Anvil. It will be our salvation and if they all had to die for me to achieve it then so be it. If all of you have to die to achieve it then it will be just as well.”
 
Branka had no hesitation. Since she had already committed to destroying her house in the name of reaching the Anvil that was to be expected. Still, that level of ruthlessness…she wondered suddenly what Bhelen would make of all of this. She wondered if she’d ever get a chance to ask him. “You’re asking us to find our way through Caridin’s traps.”
 
“You catch on quickly,” Branka said, sounding almost amused. “Yes, that’s exactly it. If you want my support in your precious little election, you’ll do as I say. In fact, with the door sealed and no way to open it except from up here, if you want to even live you’ll do as I say. Fight your way through Caridin’s maze or die trying. One way or another, I will have my Anvil.” With that, she disappeared from sight.
 
“You wanted this woman back?” Morrigan couldn’t believe it.
 
“Yes, well, she used to be much less obvious about the crazy,” Oghren replied gruffly, clearly trying not to . “And cleaner, too. What has this place done to her?”
 
“Oghren…” Aunn said cautiously. “Branka is clearly unstable. We’ll fight through Caridin’s traps because we have to but who knows what we’ll find there? We may not be able to reach her.”
 
Oghren was silent for a moment. “I know.”




Aunn had to wonder what kind of traps Branka had lost her house to. It seemed counterintuitive to put the more difficult traps first and thus leaving those capable of getting past them with challenges that were even easier to bypass. Perhaps if it were a question of endurance and Caridin had hoped that once the bigger obstacles were dealt with, the weakened dwarves or darkspawn would fall to simpler traps. Still, it would have made more sense to make the progressive traps harder just in case.
 
Now, Aunn really had no reason to believe that the traps Branka had claimed to have already disabled were harder than the ones that she had her companions were left to deal with except that Branka had lost a few hundred people and these traps were more inconveniencing than really threatening. It would make sense for Branka not to be able to bypass them as she was alone and not trained as a warrior – though she had to have learned at least something about defending herself in the years spent in the Deep Roads.
 
So much else wasn’t adding up, however. There had been darkspawn to face that weren’t actually a part of Caridin’s traps but then there had just been two puzzles. The first trap was rather straightforward. There were golems trying to kill them that they had to kill first in a room of slow-acting poison that could be turned off by flipping a couple switches on the wall. Again, this was a really obvious way to beat the system. Why had Caridin designed it thus? To give himself an out if he ever became caught in his own traps? Still, one would think that it would be just a little harder to figure out.
 
The second obstacle had been a little trickier than that. There was a giant stone head with four faces. Each face spit fire out and mysterious shades came from the faces. Four anvils were located around the faces and could, for whatever reason, fire a sort of energy after they began to glow, which happened whenever one of the shades was defeated. Aunn had absolutely no idea how this trap worked but she really didn’t need to in order to destroy the statue. In hindsight, the placement of the anvils with the power to destroy the statue so close to the stone faces was a rather fatal design flaw.
 
And that was exactly what was so bizarre about the fate of Branka’s house. Now, using the members of her house to test traps and giving them over to darkspawn to twist enough so that they could create more bodies to throw at the traps was never going to be a moral thing to do. This, however, didn’t even seem to be a practical thing to do or, sod it, a sane course of action. If Branka had thrown an infinite number of people at the traps, it still wouldn’t have been very useful. There was nothing to figure out on the golem trap since defeating golems was more about skill than numbers. A golem was capable of taking on an ogre and ogres were known to be able to wipe out entire squadrons of men. Skilled warriors were needed and not simply many mediocre ones. And it didn’t look like the statue would have run out of the shades it created and so a modicum of cunning was required. Aunn knew that she could get extremely entitled at times but when things like this happened and she and a handful of others managed to achieve in less than an hour what the entirety of House Branka hadn’t managed in two years then she really wondered how could she possibly not.
 
Walking through the door in front of her, Aunn came upon a huge open area surrounded on all sides by lava. A large anvil was clearly visible on a ledge close to the lava. What this the Anvil of the Void? She supposed that she of all people shouldn’t be so surprised that the Deep Roads hadn’t swallowed up something quite as permanently as had been thought. There were easily a dozen golems standing around. It was hard to tell if they were dormant or not as they weren’t moving. These golems were much larger than Shale, of course, and lacked her crystals. One golem was clearly active, however, and walked right up to them. He seemed larger than the rest and crafted differently.
 
“You are not Branka,” he began. “For that I am glad. I have watched your progress through my traps and was most impressed. Who are you?”
 
“My name is Aunn,” Aunn replied. “Who are you?”
 
“My name is Caridin,” Caridin answered. “Once, far longer ago than I care to admit, I was a Paragon in Orzammar.”
 
Aunn started. Not only was Branka here – and crazy – but Caridin as well? And he was a golem? How had that happened? Could she believe him? There was really no way that she could ever be sure. Shale’s Thaig had hinted that golems were dwarves once but why would Caridin become a golem? Even if this golem claiming Caridin’s identity knew how to operate or even to recreate the Anvil of the Void that wouldn’t be conclusive.
 
“Caridin?” Shale repeated, sounding no less stunned than Aunn herself was. “The Paragon smith? You created me. Is it true that I was once…a dwarf? A dwarven woman even?”
 
“Shayle of House Cadash, I would recognize your voice anywhere,” Caridin said, sounding fond. “Of course you were. Do you really not remember? I suppose that isn’t too surprising. It’s been centuries, after all.”
 
“My memory has recently been lost and I remember very little of even my life as a golem and certainly nothing before. Can you…” Shale trailed off, a little embarrassed. “Can you tell me about myself?”
 
“You were the finest warrior to ever serve King Valtor and the only woman to volunteer for the process,” Caridin recounted proudly. “You lost your husband to the darkspawn. He gave his life to save yours and though you would never discuss the details, the incident made such a profound mark on you that you were determined to do your part to crush them and you did. You were one of the most loyal people I ever had the pleasure to know and by the end you were one of the few that I could truly call ‘friend.’ You shed your mortal coil in this very room, as it happens.”
 
“I don’t remember any of this…” Shale said again, clearly not sure how she should be reacting. For her part, Aunn was pleased that she’d been right all along about Shale being female. “We’re here for the Anvil,” she said, clearly done discussing her past.
 
“The Anvil…my greatest triumph and greatest source of shame,” Caridin said mournfully. “I can understand why you would seek it but I have a story to share before you decide anything. If you don’t listen then you’ll be doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
 
“We don’t need a sodding history lesson,” Oghren argued. “We need to get the Anvil so we can reason with Branka.”
 
“We disabled the traps but Branka hasn’t followed us in yet,” Aunn pointed out calmly. “And the Anvil isn’t going anywhere. I think we have time.”
 
“Thank you,” Caridin said, bowing his head slightly. “I made many wondrous things in my time, some of which I suspect are still in use but the single most notable achievement was my Anvil of the Void. No one has been able to recreate it, no matter how skilled, because I never wrote down how I did it. Only my apprentices and I knew and once they died and I became a golem there was no one to share the information.”
 
“I confess, I am a little curious as to how you can take a living breathing dwarf and turn it into a nigh-immortal golem,” Zevran spoke up.
 
“It was…horrible. I was so caught up in my fervor and convinced that I was saving Orzammar that I tried not to think about the price. In truth, I didn’t even fully understand it until it was me on the Anvil. No one can create life where none exists. It was an exchange, of sorts. The volunteers gave up their mortal bodies in exchange for a new one made of steel and stone,” Caridin explained. “Fade spirits were considered at first but they were far too volatile and difficult to control so we quickly abandoned that line of thought.”
 
“Fade spirits are not to be trusted,” Sten opined. “And it is foolish to try to control them.”
 
“Aside from the necessity of having a dwarven soul power it – or a soul of any creature, really, but obviously dwarven souls were the ones most readily at hand – it added to the usefulness of the golem as well. They were as flexible and clever as any soldier in addition to their physical power. The control rods forced them to obey commands but didn’t require manual control which was far more efficient and allowed the skills of the former dwarf to shine through. As an army, they seemed near invincible,” Caridin recounted.
 
“I do not see what’s so terrible about your story,” Morrigan announced. “You needed power and so you created it. You even said that you used volunteers.”
 
“I might see it,” Aunn said quietly. “You haven’t told us how you created the golems.”
 
“Well spotted,” Caridin told her grimly. “It all began with volunteers. It was mostly the younger sons of warrior caste families who had little prospects for marriage and who wanted to do their part to protect Orzammar. Some others that were especially devoted to fighting the darkspawn such as Shayle here. No one ever asked to speak to those who had already been turned which was probably for the best. They came to me naked and I placed them into the huge suits of armor that you can see the golems are crafted out of now. I had to strap them down and pour molten lyrium into every orifice. They weren’t able to scream for long but those few seconds were…difficult to handle. I had to ignore that and the smell of blood in order to work while the lyrium was still malleable. The dwarves-turned-golem soon became animated under my hammer and tongs and were still clearly in pain but I couldn’t let that distract me either or I’d risk making a mistake and rendering the golem useless. I figured that, despite the pain, once they had endured so much already it was better that they feel a little more pain in order to avoid being broken and crippled. I really thought it was worth it.”
 
“You sound rather negative about the whole procedure,” Zevran pointed out. “How is it that you became a golem yourself if you weren’t a warrior and knew better than anyone what that would mean?”
 
“As I said, it was initially just volunteers,” Caridin explained. “The process of creating golems is horrific but as long as these were consenting adults who knew at least a little of what they were getting themselves into, I judged that it was worth it. But that didn’t last. There weren’t enough to satisfy Valtor. I don’t know if he ever would have been satisfied. A river of blood flowed from this place and casteless, criminals, and even just his political opponents joined the ranks of the golems. He was a tyrant, a madman! He was my king but finally, enough was enough. I refused to continue making golems and so Valtor…Valtor had me put on the Anvil next.”
 
“What?” Aunn burst out. “He FORCED that on you? But-but you’re a Paragon!”
 
“Ah, but what should that mean to one such as Valtor?” Caridin asked rhetorically. “There would probably have been riots had people known so he made sure to keep that his little secret.”
 
“It should have meant a great deal,” Aunn said firmly. “Paragons are supposed to be as close to the Ancestors as the living can get! They are not to be so casually disregarded because they don’t agree with you!”
 
Caridin was quiet for a long moment. “Your sincerity does your credit, Aunn, though not everyone holds your conviction. Valtor didn’t and he was not about to brook any dissention. He had my apprentices turn me into a golem. They were the only ones who could. They knew enough to succeed in transforming me but I hadn’t taught them everything and they didn’t know how to craft a control rod. I killed them the moment the procedure was done, of course, and then no one knew how to operate the Anvil. I…I didn’t really understand what it was to become a golem until it happened to me. That should happen to no one no matter what they’ve done or if they think it’s what they want.”
 
“Who are you to decide that the pain – no matter how severe – means that they don’t know what they want?” Morrigan challenged. “Not everyone holds your priorities, I’m sure.”
 
“Maybe not,” Caridin agreed. “But even still, I watched my work enslave hundreds once and I will not just stand back and watch it do the same again. Even if Branka does not intend to force anyone, even if she never does, even if those she teaches never do…if the Anvil is around long enough then sooner or later it will be used in that manner. It is inevitable, dwarven nature being what it is.”
 
“If that’s how you feel about it then why haven’t you destroyed the Anvil?” Shale wondered.
 
“I would if I could,” Caridin said ruefully. “As it happens, my need to keep the Anvil away from those who would eventually lead to its misuse again is the only reason that I haven’t ended my own existence already. Golems cannot touch the Anvil. If I want it to be destroyed then I’m going to need you to do it for me.”
 
“Don’t listen to him!” Branka cried out, sounding noticeably less sane and lucid than Caridin, as she charged into the room as well. “The Anvil is mine. I will not let you take it from me!”
 
Caridin turned to Shale. “Shayle…” he said pleadingly. “You fought to destroy the Anvil once. Do not let it fall into this madwoman’s hands now!”
 
“You say that I fought with you,” Shale said slowly. “You speak of things that I do not recall. Why did I fight with you? Did you use my control rod to command you to do so?”
 
“Your control rod…Shale, the attempt to destroy the Anvil – when we killed anyone who approached and found out that we couldn’t touch it – was right after I had become a golem myself. I destroyed all of the control rods. If someone else created one and forced you to do their bidding then I am truly sorry,” Caridin apologized. “You know what it is to be enslaved in such a manner. Don’t let it happen to anyone else!”
 
“My control rod recently broke,” Shale informed him. “But I can remember enough to know that there is truth in what you say.”
 
“And what about you?” Caridin asked, glancing back at Aunn. “Will you help me prevent the Anvil from being used to enslave countless others? How would you feel to know that you had been torn from all the spirits that had come before you, that you would never rest with the Ancestors?”
 
Technically, as an exile that was already her fate. And she hated it. She couldn’t even really think about it for very long without wanting to kill something. Fortunately, there was never a lack of beings in need of killing. “If I destroy the Anvil then Branka won’t agree to endorse a candidate for king and then I won’t be able to break the stalemate,” Aunn said in response. “Then my coming here will have been absolutely pointless as she couldn’t have made it through those traps alone.”
 
“She is a Paragon, yes? That’s why you need her?” Caridin asked. “I’m a Paragon, too. Side with me and I will forge you a crown for the new king so well-crafted that they’ll have to believe it’s of Paragon make. I won’t even care who you give it to.”
 
“Don’t listen to him!” Branka shouted. “This golem’s been trapped here for a millennia, stewing in its own madness! Help me claim the Anvil and I’ll create an army like you’ve never seen! Think of what having golems would mean during this Blight you mentioned! And even past that. You’ve been in the Deep Roads for long enough to get here. Every step you took from the gates of Orzammar to here was another reminder of how far we’ve fallen!”
 
“Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail!” Oghren cried out, exasperated. “Does this thing mean so much to you that you can’t even see what you’ve done to get it?”
 
“Yes,” Branka said bluntly. “It does. I would sacrifice a lot more to save Orzammar. Every step from Orzammar to hear was a step through a crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn corruption! Just entering here and not being allowed to leave is considered a death sentence! The Anvil will let us take back our glory! The Anvil will save us all!”
 
Aunn wasn’t sure what to do. They both made excellent points. The Deep Roads was one never-ending reminder of what they had lost, what they might never gain again. The Anvil could help them gain that. She had been sealed in here once and she would died – or worse – if she hadn’t been fortunate enough to stumble upon the Wardens who she really wasn’t nearly grateful enough towards. Everyone always said that golems were the last, best defense against the darkspawn and those locked up by the Shaperate were only brought out when things were at their most dire. Aunn had seen a few before but they hadn’t been sent into battle during her lifetime. Even though they had been well taken care of, it had still been over a thousand years. Whereas once golems were so common they were sold in large quantities to the Tevinter Imperium, now they were more precious than the lyrium apparently used in their creation. Not to mention that while some people would doubt that Branka was still alive without actually seeing her (and good luck prying her away from her precious Anvil), it was far more plausible that she had survived two years in the Deep Roads than Caridin had survived a thousand.
 
But. But the story of how they were created terrified her. If Caridin’s research couldn’t be recreated and was so complicated then it was clear that the Anvil could only be operated by a master smith. No one rivaling Branka’s talents had revealed themselves in Orzammar and if someone did exist they were a complete unknown. Branka had fought for the Anvil and sacrificed two years, three hundred men, and her very sanity for it. If the Anvil were to be reclaimed, she would be the one to work with it. Branka was insane. All that mattered to her was the Anvil and Aunn shuddered to think of what she would do with it. She might rely solely on volunteers at the beginning because it was easier than forcing people but it wouldn’t last. She was like Valtor in that respect: nothing was ever enough.
 
And then there was the matter of the king. Harrowmont had made it clear that he would step back and willingly allow Bhelen to take the throne if Branka told him to and so he couldn’t be counted on to control her madness. What if she decided to start turning all of the casteless into golems? Some casteless could become golems with minimal effect because it would be just like losing them to the Legion. Losing too many, though…the casteless were not an infinite resource. They needed them to fight darkspawn, yes, but they could hardly perpetuate themselves if they all became golems. Sure, golems could last hundreds of years but if the casteless population was no longer sustainable then what would they do when they needed more? And if they started forcing casteless to become golems then what would stop them from fleeing to the Surface? Even posting guards to prevent them from escaping wouldn’t be foolproof and many could die in riots further decreasing their population. And then there was also the fact that forcing people to become golems was immoral even if no one would trouble themselves with it if it were the casteless.
 
Bhelen wouldn’t let Branka walk all over him but Branka and Bhelen together posed its own set of problems. Bhelen was just the sort of person who might decide to send anyone who disagreed with him or who was just inconvenient to the Anvil. It would be just like Valtor’s reign of terror and Branka was highly unlikely to have a crisis of conscience and stop. Even if she were, Bhelen would definitely decide that she was too dangerous to let live and simply have her killed instead of making her into a golem that he couldn’t control. Actually, that made her wonder why in the world Caridin’s idiot apprentices were willing to make their former master into a golem when they couldn’t make a control rod and whether Valtor was aware of this when he gave the order.
 
There was no way to get the Anvil without Branka as even if Aunn killed her now – well, not personally, of course – then there was the little matter of if Caridin had any sense then he would force her to destroy the Anvil before forging her crown. Orzammar could have golems but it could also turn against itself and make life even worse. Branka had turned her own lover into a broodmother. Harrowmont would not oppose her. Bhelen would have allowed her to become a broodmother.
 
And then there was the matter of Oghren and Shale. Shale had pretty much declared herself for Caridin and Aunn wasn’t sure she could talk Shale into changing her mind. The best case scenario would be getting Shale to sit this round out so she wouldn’t be forced to destroy another golem but even if she could manage that, Shale would never agree to keep following her and would most likely insist on defending Caridin to the death anyway. He had been a golem, isolated down here for entire millennium…how had he stayed sane down here? Had he even stayed sane? She couldn’t even imagine. Oghren hadn’t said anything but given how long he had spent trying to find Branka and the sheer amount of ridicule he’d endured and effort he’d put into this goal, she didn’t really see him being especially eager to throw all of that away to kill her now. Maybe he’d turn on her, maybe he wouldn’t. As the whole dilemma about the Anvil boiled down to, a golem was more useful than a dwarf.
 
“I’ll stand with you, Caridin,” Aunn said quietly, feeling strangely as though she were dooming her people and that might not even be the only time. The Anvil couldn’t be recreated but Branka could not be trusted and neither candidate for king could be countered on to temper Branka’s madness. There was no right answer here. There was a right answer at the Circle Tower, there was a right answer at Redcliffe, there was even a right answer in the Brecilian Forests. There was no right answer here, though. It really wasn’t fair. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Maybe she’d just spent too much time on the Surface.
 
Sure enough, Shale approved. “So it fights with Caridin? Good. This seems…right.”
 
“You would throw away such a marvel of creation?” Morrigan demanded, her disapproval plain. “For what? To protect some hypothetical victims that we don’t even know will exist and if they do should be able to protect themselves?”
 
“I’m going to have to agree with Morrigan, here,” Zevran remarked. “Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants who work the land are trapped but we don’t go around destroying farmland, do we? We need the farmland and your people need the Anvil. That much is clear to me.”
 
“From what I understand, peasants are free in Ferelden and there are no peasants in Orzammar,” Aunn replied. “Besides, how long would the peasant be forced to work? Living to be one hundred would be highly unusual and they wouldn’t be able to work for nearly that long, only for somewhere between two and three decades. After that, they’re dead and no one can forced them to do anything anymore. The golems that are around now are over one thousand years old and they aren’t just not permitted to leave, they have their every action dictated to them. That’s hardly a valid comparison.”
 
“It is the price of power,” Morrigan said unrepentantly.
 
Zevran, however, looked uncertain. “There is a certain freedom in death, yes. To be denied even that…You know the situation and the people involved better than I do. Do what you will.”
 
“But who will get the power?” Aunn challenged. “We won’t. Branka will and whoever I crown as king will. I don’t trust them to do what’s best for Orzammar with this power. Why should I keep the Anvil around to enable someone else to gain the power to unleash a reign of terror?”
 
“I suppose it’s true that you won’t be able to control it and cannot count on gratitude,” Morrigan mused. “Very well.”
 
“Thank you Morrigan, Zevran,” Aunn said sweetly. “Now does anyone else think I’m making a horrible mistake?”
 
Sten spoke first. “You are working to end the Blight even if it is taking far too long. It’s not my place to question you.”
 
“Of course I think you’re making a mistake!” Oghren cried out. “You’re going to destroy the Anvil and kill a Paragon! But…Branka won’t listen and I saw what happened to Hespith and Laryn. I’m not sure if there’s anything else to do.” He looked as if those words were causing him physical pain.
 
“Thank you, Aunn,” Caridin told her, sounding deeply moved. “Your compassion shames me.”
 
Aunn wouldn’t call it compassion, exactly, but – as per usual – she saw no reason to correct people who thought better of her than she deserved.
 
“NO!” Branka howled. “You will not take it! Not while I still live! You think you are the only master smith here, Caridin?” She pulled out a single control rod. “Golems, obey me! Attack!”
 
A good two thirds of the golems moved on Branka’s orders.
 
“A control rod!” Caridin cried out, horrified. “I cannot beat her alone. Please, you have to help me!”
 
“I-I can’t fight a Paragon!” Aunn protested. She knew that she had to, knew that Branka wouldn’t be pulling any punches herself, but she couldn’t. “Oppose, perhaps, but kill? I can’t do that. I can’t.”
 
“I’m not going after my wife, either,” Oghren said flatly. “Although more because she’s my wife than because of the whole ‘Paragon’ thing.”
 
“Will it at least fight the golems?” Shale demanded.
 
Aunn thought about it briefly. She would be furthering the decimation of the golem population that could never be replaced now but she couldn’t be dead weight here. “Yes. I can do that.”
 
Oghren shrugged. “I suppose I can do that, too. It’s better than just standing around watching my wife die, at any rate.”
 
Aunn pointedly ignored Branka as she and Oghren made their way towards one of the opposing golems and began to chip away at it. Fighting a golem was a little like fighting an ogre in that it could crush you by simply stepping on you, bringing it down was going to take awhile, and every blow it landed on you was devastating. Fortunately, golems were less inclined to pick people up than ogres but just as slow so continuing to move while hacking away at it was a slow and tedious but effective way to bring it down. Aunn and Oghren had time to fully destroy one golem and had been making good progress on the second when suddenly it stopped attacking. Branka was dead and her control rod smashed.
 
“It is done,” Caridin said, sounding much older all of a sudden. “That will be the last life this Anvil of mine has claimed.”
 
“Aye, that it is,” Oghren said heavily. “I need a drink.”
 
For once, nobody said anything to him about how much he’d already had to drink. Aunn wondered how much worse he’d be handling this without the alcohol he’d already consumed.
 
“You said that you needed a crown, yes? I do not care to know the name of your chosen king or anything about him…or her, even,” Caridin told her. “My time has long passed and I will trust your judgment to do what is best for Orzammar. Before I make the crown, however, I need to see that you will live up to your end of the bargain. It’s not that I don’t trust you but this is far too important to take any chances with.”
 
He held out a hammer and, hands trembling slightly, Aunn took it. It looked like she would be the one to personally destroy all hope of ever bringing back golems. Branka was dead and the Anvil would crown no king so it was a little late for second thoughts. She’d passed the point of no return. She just wished she didn’t have to do it personally. Just the same, she was an Aeducan no matter what Orzammar might say and as such she wasn’t about to run from what she had to do.




It had only taken three blows to destroy the Anvil and Aunn didn’t think she’d ever had to do anything more difficult. Unfortunately, it would only be the most difficult thing she’d ever done for a week or two before she’d need to declare a king (and for all that she hated being called upon to make this choice, part of her still relished the idea of deciding Orzammar’s future and all of her would be pissed if she’d spent weeks down here doing the impossible only to find out they’d settled the matter themselves).
 
The minute the Anvil was destroyed, Caridin had sprung into action and began crafting a crown. It had taken several hours and Trian had discovered a record of every dwarf who had become a golem written on a stone slab that Aunn had quickly traced. If nothing else, Shaper Czibor was going to love her by the time this was over even as he refused to admit that he knew who she was. At least she’d probably be able to make him feel guilty about it.
 
Eventually, Caridin had finished and offered up the finest crown she had ever seen (and given that she was the previous king’s daughter she had seen the current crown quite often). It was large and ornately crafted with the seal of House Ortan on the back. This would certainly go a long way towards convincing them that a long-dead Paragon had crafted it. And Caridin really was dead now as he had promptly stepped off of a ledge and into the lava once the crown was safely in her hands.
 
She and the others had walked back the way they came and encountered Kardol and the others just finishing off a group of darkspawn.
 
“Greetings,” Kardol told them. “Still alive, I see. Impressive. Have you given up your mad plan to find Branka?”
 
Aunn merely held up the crown in reply.
 
Kardol examined it closely before whistling. “Huh. Guess she was still alive after all. She does good work.”
 
“Caridin made this, actually,” Aunn corrected. Seeing his look, she clarified, “He was a golem. Long story.”
 
“I’m sure,” Kardol said, shaking his head. “And I probably don’t want to know. If you’ve got a Paragon-forged crown then, regardless of the circumstances, you stand a good chance of breaking the impasse. We may have a king soon. I think we’ll accompany you back to the city. I guess it’s a good thing you came after all, even if you are here to deal with Surface problems.”
 
Aunn stared at him. “The Blight is hardly a Surface problem!”
 
“Oh no?” Kardol asked skeptically. “So it’s not the one time the Surface notices there are darkspawn still in existence because they leave us alone and go attack them? Explain to me how this isn’t just a Surface problem.”
 
“Because the Blight has begun in Ferelden which is, in many ways, even less prepared to deal with it than we were to deal with the first one,” Aunn declared. “If Ferelden falls then the darkspawn will either come after us directly or move on to another Surface nation first. If Ferelden goes on to another Surface nation then the Blight will have had time to gather strength and that other nation will find it harder to defeat if it even can. Blight always take years and years to stop as well as the alliance of many different groups. At any point, the darkspawn could decide to come after us. We haven’t had the darkspawn attack us during a Blight for far too long now to think that we’re in any way prepared to deal with it and I think that by now we can safely say that losing sacrificing allies so that later we’ll have to deal with the darkspawn alone isn’t working out very well for us. If we don’t stop the Blight now they’ll only be stronger when they attack us in our homes.”
 
Kardol looked thoughtful but said nothing.




“You live!” the captain of the guards said as they made their way – finally – back to Orzammar.
 
Aunn tilted her head. “Didn’t I already have this conversation with Orzammar at large?”
 
“You did, but that was before you went off for weeks into the Deep Roads and…” the captain broke off. “Are those golems?”
 
Aunn glanced behind her at the five golems Caridin had still had that hadn’t been destroyed and who had followed them back up here which, combined with the presence of the Legion and the fact that they had actually more-or-less known where they were going this time, had significantly shortened the return trip. “So they are. We’ll need to get them to the Shaperate at some point. Among other things. Was there anything else?”
 
The guard started. “Oh, right. Lord Harrowmont has left orders that you are to be escorted immediately to the Assembly chamber upon your return.”
 
“Is that so? Does that mean that the throne is still undecided?” Aunn asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. She really didn’t want to have wasted the last few weeks.
 
“Aye,” the guard said grimly. “At this point it seems like the only way the throne will be decided will be when Harrowmont drops dead of old age. I do hope you can change that.”
 
“I intend to try,” Aunn assured him. “Lead on.”
 
It was a very long walk from the entrance to the Deep Roads to the Assembly chamber in the Diamond Quarter. Aunn wished that she could have time to stop off in the Grey Warden quarters and freshen up but she didn’t want to delay this any longer than necessary as the anticipation was practically killing her. The deshyrs generally didn’t spend much time in the Deep Roads – the expedition that got Trian killed was only a few short hours long – but they’d certainly seen enough people returning from there to not be scandalized by her appearance. As she walked, a huge crowd began to form. Caridin’s crown was clearly visible in her hands and she had returned from the dead yet again and so everyone was lined up to see her pass by. Many people didn’t look displeased to see her which, given the annoying fact that she was still exiled, was definitely a good thing.
 
What to do, what to do…Just like as with the Anvil, there didn’t seem to be a right choice here. Bhelen was her little brother and Harrowmont was a family friend. Bhelen had set her up to be killed in the Deep Roads (if she were lucky) after having been stripped of everything she had and decried as a traitor while Harrowmont had, futilely, attempted to defend her and gave her the information she needed to save her life. Bhelen and his men had been nothing but condescending to her since her return – Bhelen sending a few assassins her way – while Harrowmont had eagerly welcomed her back. Both had promised to reward her for her aid but Bhelen, as an Aeducan, could offer more. Still, she rather thought that she, personally, would do better under Harrowmont given that he was fond of her while Bhelen appeared to be bitter and jealous although at this point Aunn couldn’t even begin to guess at what. He’d never shared her fascination with the Grey Wardens. If she were to ever be able to return to Orzammar, it would be much more feasible if Harrowmont were king and not Bhelen.
 
That was just the personal, though. What about what was best for Orzammar? Caridin had trusted her to do the right thing but what was that? She knew exactly what kind of a ruler Harrowmont would make. He had outright told her that he felt that the Assembly should have the real power while the king dealt with military matters and…well, that was pretty much it. He would always defer to the Assembly and the Assembly was far too pre-occupied with its own self-interest to get anything done. Even if Harrowmont were to grow a backbone and act like a proper king, he was a deeply traditional man (with few exceptions such as his dealing with her) and he wouldn’t be any more eager to make any big changes to Orzammar. Orzammar under him would stay almost exactly the same as it had been under her father. In the past, she wouldn’t have seen anything wrong with that but she had learned a great more than she’d meant to since returning home. Fortunately for Orzammar, Harrowmont was old and unlikely to live for long. He would always be a place-holder king, put on the throne to prevent her brother from taking it and serving only until a better successor could be found. That was what was important. Who would succeed Harrowmont? If it were someone just as traditional as he was, which had a good chance of happening if Harrowmont had any say in it, then that would definitely be a problem. If it were someone who was willing and able to change things then it might not end so badly after all. Aunn refused to believe that Bhelen was the only chance that Orzammar would ever get although refusing salvation when it was offered was never a bright idea.
 
Bhelen. What could she even say about him? He’d been hiding who he really was for years and she had no idea when that had even begun. She couldn’t say much about who he was or what he was planning. He kept a noble hunter who seemed very defensive of him and actually seemed to love him (and a nephew named after their father that she’d never gotten a chance to meet and, if she didn’t choose him, almost certainly never would). That certainly indicated that he was less against the casteless than Harrowmont for all his well-meaning disdain. Aunn had been to Dust Town and she was still shaken by what she’d seen. Images of that place had been quickly replaced by images of the broodmother, however, and she couldn’t forget about that no matter how hard she tried. Additionally, Bhelen seemed to have no more allies now than the ones he had personally bribed when getting her exiled. What’s more, his deshyr supporters had actually dropped by three as he got closer to his goal. Say Bhelen was a reformer with plans to save everyone – which she wasn’t even sure if she believed. Would he even be able to get the Assembly to do anything he wanted them to do? Dissolving the Assembly was an extreme measure but one that he could still take to get his way. If he survived everyone’s attempts to kill him for that, which he probably would as paranoid as he was, then there was no way his successor would be approved and whoever did being king next would simply roll back the clock on all of his reforms.
 
Harrowmont wouldn’t try to do anything but would Bhelen even succeed at what he was trying to do? And if he did would it last for more than his limited lifespan? If she chose Bhelen then she was as good as killing Harrowmont herself as Bhelen hated him far too much to let him live. If she chose Harrowmont then Bhelen would probably be fine as Harrowmont wasn’t trying to show strength by getting rid of his opponent or looking to destroy her father’s son. Harrowmont would only live for a short while as king, even shorter if Bhelen had anything to say about it, and he could just consolidate his support and get the Assembly to accept him as Harrowmont’s successor no matter what the man would have thought about it. That would certain make trying to live in Orzammar, if she even could, very difficult but there was every chance that this Blight would kill her before she could return, her exile wouldn’t be repealed, or that Bhelen would make it difficult for her even if she did support him as king. What was she supposed to do?
 
“Lords of the Assembly, I call for order!” Steward Bandelor was saying impatiently as the doors to the Assembly were flung open. The golems wouldn’t fit through the doorway and so they were waiting outside. “This discussion gets us nowhere.”
 
Bhelen and Harrowmont were standing on a raised platform only a few feet away from each other which Aunn was sure they both loved. “Then why all these delaying tactics?” Bhelen challenged. “My father has but one living child to assume the Aeducan throne.” Aunn’s heart clenched as she realized something she’d been overlooking. It was so obvious, really, that she didn’t understand why she’d missed it before. If she didn’t pick Bhelen then she would be the one to remove her own family from the throne after nine generations. House Aeducan would no longer rule but House Harrowmont. She had no illusions about that lasting but if the massive amount of support that Harrowmont had gotten was any indication then people would be incredibly reluctant to hand the throne back over to her house. And it would be all her doing.
 
“Your father made me promise on his deathbed that you would not succeed him,” Harrowmont said firmly. There was that, as well. Of course, angry as she was with her father that might as well have been a point in Bhelen’s favor.
 
One of the guards to the room stepped forward hesitantly, clearly displeased about having to draw attention to himself in the middle of all of this. “I apologize for the interruptions, Lord Steward, but the Warden has returned.”
 
Dozens of heads turned Aunn’s way at once to stare in astonishment at her. Really, she’d only been gone for a few weeks. Was she supposed to return in failure so soon? Branka had been gone for two years and so of course it had taken awhile to track her down. Bhelen’s eyes were narrowed in fury at seeing her. Yes, that was definitely an indication that picking him would lead to good things for her.
 
“We should let the Warden speak,” Harrowmont declared calmly. “What news do you bring?”
 
Aunn took a moment to look around the room before speaking. She had never had the Assembly’s undivided attention like this before and she knew that her news was going to rock them. “I bring a crown from Paragon Caridin for his chosen king.” It wasn’t even a lie, really. Caridin had chosen not to know anything about the candidates and had appointed her to act as his proxy. She was just neglecting to mention that little complicating detail, was all. She held up the crown for all to see. It really was quite impressive-looking.
 
“What?” Bhelen cried out in disbelief. “Your wits must have been addled by the Deep Roads quite a bit if you think we’re going to believe this. The Paragon Caridin, Ancestors keep him, perished over a thousand years ago!”
 
“Not quite,” Oghren corrected, looking surprised and pleased when everyone’s attention turned to him for once and none of it was scornful. “Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. Aunn granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void. Before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar's next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves!”
 
Aunn barely concealed a wince at that. Yes, that was what had happened and she was grateful that he hadn’t seen fit to mention that part about being involved in Branka’s death but still. Did he really have to tell everyone that she had destroyed their only hope of creating golems? Granted, no one had been expecting to recover it but that was still not something she’d wanted known. Hopefully, they would eventually take into account the fact that Caridin himself had wanted it destroyed before they judged her too harshly for that.
 
“And we are supposed to trust this, the word of a drunken sot and a murdering exile known to be in Harrowmont's pocket?” Bhelen cried out angrily, clearly playing the crowd. He could be such a charmer sometimes.
 
Steward Bandelor stepped forward and took the crown from Aunn. He looked at it very closely, his eyes widening more by the second. “This crown is of Paragon make and bears House Ortan's ancient seal,” he confirmed, sounding awed. “Tell us, Warden: whom did Caridin choose?”
 
Images of Laryn and Hespith flashed before her eyes. “Caridin…chose Harrowmont.”
 
Why did those words sound like she was dooming her people? Why would the opposite choice have felt the same? There was nothing to be done now. She could hardly say ‘Nah, I’m just messing with you. He really picked Bhelen.’ She’d made the wrong choice, had felt that even as she said it, but she couldn’t for the life of her see a right choice.
 
Harrowmont nodded appreciatively, ever formal and dignified. “I appreciate your forthrightness, Aunn. You have acted with grace through this entire torturous process.” He slowly made his way down to where Steward Bandelor was standing with the crown now raised above his head.
 
Bhelen appeared to be frozen in shock and fury. He hadn’t reacted yet and Aunn wasn’t looking forward to when he did.
 
As Harrowmont kneeled to receive his crown – the crown that Aunn had had forged and had ripped from her family – Steward Bandelor murmured reverently, “Let the Memories find you worthy, first amidst the lords of the houses, the king of Orzammar.”
 
The crown securely on his head, King Harrowmont stood up proudly to face the rest of the deshyrs. Some looked pleased at the outcome. Others, their faces impassive, were watching Bhelen. At last, Bhelen seemed to shake himself and stepped forward.
 
“No. I do not accept this.”

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kinslayer


Aunn watched in horror as Bhelen made his declaration. He wasn’t even going to accept the word of a Paragon? It wasn’t like she had expected him to accept that he should cede the throne to Harrowmont because Caridin had said to (or even to believe that she had met Caridin and convinced him to throw his support behind Harrowmont personally) but outright rejecting it? Some, maybe even all, of his allies would support this but this was a horrible idea!
 
Aunn didn’t know why Bhelen had failed to have Harrowmont assassinated way back when he first stood up to challenge Bhelen’s candidacy but it had been several weeks by this point even since Aunn had first arrived. Harrowmont’s guard couldn’t possibly be that good – particularly given how easy it had been for her to get to Bhelen – and even if it was, she refused to believe that assassinating him was so impossible that an outright coup would be the better option.
 
If Harrowmont had died that very night, poisoned in his moment of victory, everyone would know what had happened and that Bhelen was responsible. They might know but they wouldn’t know and Bhelen having left behind those letters in the carta was a rare mistake he had tried to correct. As he wouldn’t need carta thugs to take out Harrowmont (and there were rather a shortage of them at the moment anyway), killing him would leave no trail. Had this happened, no one would be able to stop him from succeeding Harrowmont. Even if he wanted to wait a little longer to further consolidate his support before acting, Aunn’s actions had hardly closed the door on Bhelen’s kingly ambitions forever.
 
That left the question, then, of why he was doing this now. Harrowmont had already been crowned while he stood seething silently and so it would be openly regicide. Even if he won, which she imagined was the goal, his image would take a definite hit from this and while he might be able to impose his will anyway, he had been trying to avoid having his reputation plummet like that. Not to mention that she and the others were still here and they had just survived weeks in the Deep Roads fighting their way all the way to Caridin. If he was planning his coup, he should have waited until they were gone.
 
Maybe this was just the straw that broke the bronto’s back. Bhelen had had a grand plan that had been slowly falling apart ever since their father had rejected him on his deathbed and Harrowmont had tried to win the throne. It had produced a three-week-long stalemate where some of Bhelen’s less committed supporters had switched sides in an effort to see House Aeducan off of the throne. In the middle of dealing with all of that, she had shown up, perfectly alive and even a respected Grey Warden now and had rather publicly gone off with Harrowmont. She had foiled his attempts to woo Houses Dace and Helmi, won the Proving he held for their father, wiped out Dust Town in Harrowmont’s name, and now tracked down a long-dead Paragon. Aunn had come to believe that Bhelen could handle disappointment better than this but then again this was the culmination of quite a long line of disappointments and now years of work and sacrifice on his part was seemingly wasted. He probably wasn’t thinking straight or he would have continued to bide his time.
 
“Stand down, Bhelen,” Aunn entreated, knowing it was useless but not wanting to be called upon to be a Kinslayer after all just the same. “You’ve lost this round.” It was just one round, he could always come back the next.
 
Bhelen fixed her with a baleful look. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do, Warden. You turned your back on Orzammar when you killed our brother!”
 
“When I killed Trian?” Aunn asked harshly. “That’s funny. The letters I found in Jarvia’s carta hideout ordering Trian’s death were written in Vartag’s hand.”
 
There were shocked gasps and Aunn vaguely remembered that every deshyr in Orzammar was watching this play out.
 
“Aunn speaks truly,” Harrowmont vouched for her. “I’ve seen these ruthless letters with my own eyes and when this is done, you can as well.”
 
Bhelen said nothing, just snapped his fingers. Immediately, a full half of the Assembly stood and pulled out weapons. The deshyrs on Harrowmont’s side all appeared to be quite surprised but Aunn didn’t see why. Bhelen never would have made a fuss about this in public unless he had supporters to make him up. The battle began but Aunn only had eyes for Bhelen.
 
It was difficult to explain but even though Aunn didn’t want to be the one to kill Bhelen, she knew that he would die today. After he attempted a coup, not even Harrowmont would let him live. He was going to die because if he didn’t then Aunn would and she couldn’t afford to let that happen. There was a Blight to deal with, after all, and she had come too far to fail now…as had Bhelen, really. Her actions had been the impetus behind this coup and the reason Bhelen was going to die. She could have chosen otherwise. She probably should have. She hadn’t. If she was going to be responsible for the death of her little brother, she wasn’t going to run from that.
 
Bhelen saw her coming, of course, and immediately swung his sword at her head. “What have you done?” he demanded angrily. “You’ve destroyed us.”
 
“ ‘Us?’” Aunn repeated as she blocked the blow. “I wasn’t aware that I was a part of your House, Bhelen.”
 
“Oh, don’t give me that,” he said disgustedly. “You know that I would have cleared up that pesky little exile of yours. Now, though…now you’ll never be rid of it. The House will never take you back.”
 
“And here I thought that if I just killed everyone in my way then they’d make me their leader,” Aunn said sarcastically. “That’s certainly how it seemed to work for you.”
 
“Harrowmont is a weak man and he’ll kill us all,” Bhelen accused. “And you know this! How can you claim to care anything about Orzammar when you’d put that on the throne?”
 
“He won’t be around long enough to kill us and you’re the one who signed your own death warrant here,” Aunn retorted. “And according to you, I turned my back on Orzammar when you had Trian killed.”
 
“I told you before, you’ve got to learn to let these things go,” Bhelen said derisively before he mistimed a block and his sword went flying out of his hand. He gazed at it in horror.
 
“Good advice,” Aunn told him. “I’ll make sure to try that sometime.” With that, she used her own sword to cut off his head.
 
The battle was still raging all around her but she suddenly found herself a lot less interested than she was mere moments before. And it wasn’t like she personally had to be involved for them to win. Sten had apparently had a problem with armed people cowardly fighting unarmed people – particularly when said unarmed people were on their side – and had began to hand out some of the weapons they had gathered in the Deep Roads. Yes, they weren’t necessarily the best weapons and daggers were going up against swords in a few cases but at least King Harrowmont had stopped attempting to punch people in armor to death. That took guts, certainly, but it was also difficult to watch.
 
Kinslayer.
 
That was what Bhelen had accused her of being nearly a year ago and what most of Orzammar had agreed with. She had happened to be innocent then. She wasn’t now and, what’s more, she had committed fratricide in full view of the Assembly. She hardly expected to face legal problems for this (and she’d ironically have to be un-exiled in order to be able to get into more trouble anyway) but there was no denying it. It had to be done. She still hated it. She hated him for forcing that responsibility on her.
 
“Aunn,” Zevran said gently as he approached her. “It’s over.”
 
Aunn blinked and looked around. Dead, well-dressed bodies were everywhere. A full half of the Assembly lay dead. Things like this weren’t unheard of, exactly, but it was certainly still a rarity and the first time a large portion of the Assembly had been wiped out all at once for generations. This could be good for the surviving deshyrs but it also carried a risk. Most of their political enemies within the Assembly were dead but they’d all be replaced with new people whose reaction to this was uncertain.
 
Aunn tore herself from the sight. This couldn’t be her problem.
 
“Your father would be very proud of what you did today,” Harrowmont said gravely.
 
Would he have been? He’d killed his own brother, or so she’d heard, but Bhelen copying that feat hadn’t earned him any respect from him. She had taken House Aeducan out of power – and though she wasn’t technically a member any longer she still felt like one – and who knew when it would get the throne back? On the other hand, she had kept Bhelen from the throne which he had apparently wanted. Not like she had any way of knowing for sure, of course.
 
“Losing his son would have pained him, naturally, but after what Bhelen did, your father would have seen the necessity of it,” Harrowmont continued. “And if nothing else, he was the one who chose to defy a Paragon – and Caridin­ at that – and attack. He really did bring it on himself.”
 
“He did,” Aunn echoed. Everything from the day that Trian died had been leading up to this moment. She didn’t know what the future held and could only hope that she hadn’t just killed a man who would have eventually become the…the dwarven messiah or something. She couldn’t keep dwelling on this, though. What was done was done and no amount of confidence in her decision or self-doubt would change that.
 
“Bhelen’s actions here will damage his reputation irreparably and Vartag’s letters that you recovered – particularly the last one admitting that you had refused to kill Trian – will go a long way towards restoring yours,” Harrowmont told her. “Rescinding your exile and, more to the point, restoring your status will take time but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were done by the time this Blight of yours is ended. I will make it possible for you to come home, Aunn.”
 
Aunn nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice. “And the troops I came here to find?”
 
“You will have them,” Harrowmont promised. “The surviving deshyrs won’t oppose this although we may encounter some problems depending on how wide-spread Bhelen’s rebellion is. I still can’t believe that Bhelen would defy a Paragon or that so many would join him. I must confess that for all I vowed not to underestimate him again – or overestimate, depending on how you look at it – I never believed him capable of that. We’ll need to work out the details later about your troops later. How long will you be staying?”
 
Aunn turned her gaze back to her brother. “At least through the funeral. They won’t want me there but I wasn’t there for Trian’s funeral or for my father’s and I’m tired of missing funerals.”
 
“That’s completely understandable,” Harrowmont assured her. “I’ll probably be busy the rest of the day but come to the Palace tomorrow morning and we can talk more.” The Palace. Once her home and now the dwelling of the Harrowmonts. Her. This was all her.
 
Recognizing that she was being dismissed, Aunn turned quietly to go. As she left, the living deshyrs murmured words of congratulations at her but she didn’t want to hear them.
 
Kardol met her as she exited the Assembly building.
 
“We have a king again,” he announced as if she had somehow failed to notice. “Winning a Proving, wiping out a carta, finding a Paragon…all of that is very nice but we have a king again. I was starting to lose hope that we’d ever be able to solve this.”
 
“I’m glad to be able to prove you wrong then,” Aunn replied.
 
“And not just on that, either,” Kardol admitted. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, about how the Blight wasn’t just a Surface problem and, well, I’ve decided that you’re right. The darkspawn may be on the Surface now but they won’t stay there and intelligent, unrelenting, organized darkspawn is bad for us as well. Besides, you’re one of us. We’ll be there with you and show all those topsiders a thing or two about fighting darkspawn.”
 
Aunn smiled at that. “Trust me, they could really use it.”
 
Oghren cleared his throat hesitantly once Kardol had moved out. “So…you’re heading back to the Surface, I take it?”
 
“In a few days, yes,” Aunn confirmed. “The Blight’s not going to wait until I’m ready, after all.”
 
“I want to go with you,” Oghren announced.
 
Aunn tilted her head. “Oghren, the Grey Wardens in Ferelden really aren’t in the best shape. I don’t know how we’d be able to make you one anytime soon. Maybe once the Blight is over if you’re really sure…”
 
“I’m not asking to be a Grey Warden,” Oghren corrected her. He paused. “Although that might be an idea someday.”
 
“But becoming a Grey Warden is the only way you’ll be able to leave Orzammar without losing your caste,” Aunn pointed out. “Well…unless you honestly think you can convince the Assembly to send you up there for diplomatic purposes.”
 
“Look, Princess: My entire house is either dead or wishing they were dead. My wife is dead and before that she was crazy. Her dream is gone. I’m a laughingstock in Orzammar and can’t even fight here. Oh, and the ale down here sucks. Let me come with you.”
 
Aunn supposed that if anyone had cause to seek to throw away their caste and turn their back on Orzammar itself, it was Oghren. “We’d be honored to have you fight with us.”




One week later when Aunn finally left, the Surface revealed just how much it hated her and would have preferred not to see her again by having the sun shining ridiculously bright in her eyes as she emerged from the Hall of Heroes.
 
“Does the Surface hate us or something?” Oghren wondered, his eyes hurting even more than hers did as this was the first time he’d ever seen the sun. It really was quite the first impression. Though Morrigan, Sten, and Zevran wouldn’t admit it, their eyes appeared unaccustomed to the sun as well after so many weeks spent underground.
 
“Yes, yes it does,” Aunn confirmed.
 
“Don’t be absurd,” Wynne snapped. She had apparently been so put-out by her inability to enter Orzammar that she’d spent the entire time attempting to convince the guards (who were glaring at her now) to let her in. The moment they had received word that Harrowmont had taken the throne, Wynne had charged in alone…only to come across Aunn and the others in the process of killing enraged Bhelen fanatics. She’d taken this as confirmation that she was right and Aunn shouldn’t have been allowed to go in without the more conventionally moral members of the group and would not be persuaded otherwise even though the same thing would have happened if she, Alistair, and Leliana had accompanied them.
 
Aunn had indeed gone to the funeral of her brother and though those family members that she hadn’t killed weren’t pleased to see her, she was too well-armed for them to start something. The more impulsive ones who would have attacked her on sight anyway had already committed assisted suicide like Bhelen had by the time his funeral had rolled around anyway. She’d seen Rica – who had pointedly refused to acknowledge her in any way – holding an infant child during the service. That must have been little Endrin.
 
At first, going anywhere was a dangerous prospect as she’d been attacked virtually everywhere she’d gone. At the Proving, all of Bhelen’s fighters had attacked her and she’d bested her cousin Piotin a second time before outright killing him. All though the Commons and Diamond Quarter, fanatics seemed to come out from the very Stone to attack. Even at the Palace, Vartag had managed to sneak in and had led quite a few guards against her. While Aunn hated being forced to kill so many Aeducans and to further weaken the House, she had definitely enjoyed killing Vartag. Wojech Ivo’s death at her hands was another one she’d been satisfied with but his brother Frandlin – the one she really wanted dead – was nowhere to be found. Smart man.
 
House Helmi was, predictably, thrilled about the change of power and Nerav ranted at her about how evil Bhelen was for nearly twenty minutes before realizing that perhaps it was a sensitive topic. At the Shaperate, Czibor had been thrilled to receive the golems and also subtly pleased to see anyone who wasn’t Bhelen take the throne so he had begun to refer to her as ‘Warden Aunn.’ It wasn’t quite an admittance that he knew her but it was as close as she knew he felt it was proper to get. Orta had been overjoyed to see proof that she was an Ortan after all (she had recognized some line on the tree as being a relative) and Aunn had felt vaguely guilty so she’d given her a quick ‘don’t trust anybody’ lecture so hopefully she’d be less likely to be eaten alive.
 
She really didn’t have any unfinished business in Orzammar unless you counted properly getting a chance to meet her nephew. It was a nice feeling. Now, if she were ever able to return it wouldn’t be about settling or proving anything but rather because she loved the city and was, perhaps, a little worried about Harrowmont not changing anything. He did care a great deal about her, though, and had given her a mace belonging to her father to take with her on her trip so she supposed that was something. Even if she had no intention of setting aside her own sword and shield, she had still made it quite clear to Oghren – who had been eying it – that if he touched it he would be losing a finger. Weapons always did make her sentimental like that.
 
Leliana and Alistair were sitting on the ground playing with Alistair’s action figures when they noticed the rest of their group approaching.
 
“You’re back!” Alistair exclaimed happily, quickly standing up. “How did it go? I heard something about a new king when Wynne went in. Did whoever it was honor the treaties?”
 
Aunn nodded. “King Harrowmont will be sending men along to Redcliffe as soon as possible. There’s a bit of a rebellion going on at the moment.”
 
Alistair looked confused. “A rebellion already? But he just took the throne? How could he ****** these people off so quickly?”
 
“He didn’t,” Shale deigned to inform him. “The other candidate launched a coup and then quickly died. Who the rebellion will crown as the man they’re rebelling in the name of is dead should they win is a mystery.”
 
“And may I say, Alistair, that you look remarkably like Aunn’s brother only human,” Zevran remarked.
 
“Her brother…that was the man who was killed?” Alistair checked. Upon receiving a nod that he was right, he continued. “But…but he’s dead now! How am I supposed to know if that’s true?”
 
“You’ll just have to take our word for it,” Morrigan said, clearly enjoying this.
 
Alistair groaned. “I bet I look like him. He was probably twelve feet tall, red-haired, and with pigtails.”
 
Sten stared at him. “Her dwarf brother?”
 
“Well…maybe not the height part,” Alistair admitted.
 
“He would have probably had problems going through doorways,” Leliana mused. Her eyes widened. “Wait…does this mean that you were right, Aunn?”
 
Aunn frowned. “About what?”
 
“About committing accidental inevitable fratricide?” Leliana clarified.
 
“Oh, by the Maker!” Alistair burst out. “There’s no such thing as-”
 
“Yes,” Aunn cut him off. “It happened. It was accidental and yet really inevitable once we got to a certain point. If it makes you feel any better, Alistair, you could always call it ‘assisted suicide.’”
 
“It doesn’t, really,” Alistair replied. He noticed Oghren’s presence. “Hey, who is this?”
 
“Oghren,” Oghren introduced. “Don’t touch my ale or my junk and we’ll get along just fine.”
 
“Your junk?” Alistair looked horrified. “Why would I want to do that?”
 
“You’d be surprised,” Oghren said sagely. “I’ve had to beat no-good junk-touchers off with sticks before. Pointy sticks.”
 
“You know, Wynne, maybe you were right,” Alistair conceded. “We probably shouldn’t have left them alone in Orzammar…”




By the time they finally made it back to Redcliffe castle, Circle mages and Dalish hunters had begun to arrive as well. The dwarves wouldn’t make it there for a few weeks but fortunately the Blight was still in the southernmost part of the country so they still had some time.
 
Eamon was pleased to see them return. “You have fortuitous timing indeed. I just finished recalling my forces and gathering my allies not two days ago. We are ready for the Landsmeet now and may proceed to Denerim at any time. I do hope you’ve managed everything you were looking to do? The Landsmeet may be delayed but the darkspawn will only give us so much time and we cannot even really worry about them until Ferelden is united one way or another. The longer we delay the Landsmeet, the stronger Loghain has a chance to get. Alistair, I trust you have not reconsidered the merits of becoming king?”
 
“I’m still not sure about the ‘merits’ or my qualifications but I am willing to do my best and to take advice from those who know more about this kind of thing than I do,” Alistair responded. “At any rate, I’m sure Ferelden under me will be better than Ferelden if we all get eaten by darkspawn and definitely better than Ferelden under Loghain.”
 
“Excellent,” Eamon said, pleased. “We shall set off for Denerim first thing in the morning, then. Do keep in mind while we’re there that we’ll be constantly being judged and spies are everywhere. Do not say or do anything that would imply that you would not be a fit ruler, particularly voicing your doubts about your ability. You can be certain that the Landsmeet will hear all about it if you do.”
 
“I’ll be careful,” Alistair said solemnly. He waited until Eamon had walked away. “I put someone who had been a Warden and conscious for only about a week in charge and let you make all of the decisions.”
 
“That was awhile ago,” Aunn pointed out. “And I was more than happy to do it. Besides, you let me make all the decisions? What about with the Dalish?”
 
“Fine, I made one decision,” Alistair conceded. “I am still really not cut out for this.”
 
“Have people that you can trust at hand in order to help you make the decisions?” Aunn suggested.
 
“Are you volunteering?” Alistair asked hopefully.
 
“I’m hopefully going to go back to Orzammar but if that doesn’t work out after all then why not?” Aunn asked rhetorically.
 
Alistair snorted. “Yes, you’ll magnanimously stay and guide me through my dark times…if you don’t have anything better to do.”
 
“At least I’m not promising my support and then running away post-coronation,” Aunn pointed out.
 
“That is true,” Alistair agreed. “That would be a horrible example to set. I might decide to do the same and then we’d have to find some other poor schmuck to take the throne.”
 
Aunn smiled. “You could go off and be a wandering do-gooder.”
 
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “A wandering do-gooder?”
 
“Someone in Orzammar called me that,” Aunn explained. “Right before trying to kill me.”
 
Alistair laughed. “Wait…he called you that? Really? And of course he attacked you. That man was clearly too stupid to live.”




They had just barely stepped foot into Eamon’s Denerim Estate when they received news that Loghain himself was coming to greet them. He must have been watching for their arrival ever since the Landsmeet was called.
 
Alistair, predictably, was seething but Eamon wanted him there to face Loghain anyway.
 
“If you can’t face Loghain now and keep calm when it’s only a semi-private greeting and perhaps an attempt to talk me out of holding this Landsmeet then you’ll hurt our cause a the Landsmeet,” Eamon cautioned. “The nobles can be swayed by emotion and appealing to their own interests but they are not impressed by someone who loses control. It’s too common for them, I’m afraid.”
 
“I suppose I can do that,” Alistair said reluctantly. “But you guys better do most of the talking. That man betrayed Ferelden and left his king and my fellow Wardens to die! I can’t politely converse with him.”
 
“No one’s asking you to,” Eamon promised. “And we’ll try to make sure that Aunn and I are the ones doing most of the talking.”
 
There was no more time to prepare then as Loghain strode boldly into the room, followed by an ugly old man with a large nose and a young woman clearly trained as a warrior.
 
Eamon spoke first, his voice dry. “What an honor it is that the regent would take the time to greet me personally.”
 
“But of course, Eamon. A man so important as to call every lord and lady in Ferelden away from their land and to Denerim to more permanently settle the throne while a Blight covers the land can be given no less respect,” Loghain replied, tone pointed. On the one hand, he did have a point that a Blight was hardly the time to settle politics. On the other, Loghain was unwilling to accept the Grey Wardens and had somehow managed to cause a civil war so the Landsmeet was really necessary at this point.
 
“Ah, yes, the Blight,” Eamon remarked. “The very reason I’m here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden needs a new king to lead it against the darkspawn.”
 
“Ferelden doesn’t need a king, it has a very strong and capable queen,” Loghain shot back. “She may not be a warrior but she doesn’t need to be when I lead her armies.”
 
“How strong of a queen can Anora be if she needs you to not only lead her armies but be her regent?” Aunn challenged. “In my experience, regents are only necessary when the ruler isn’t old enough, not present, or is in some way debilitated. Tell me, does Anora fall under any of those possibilities? If not, why are you holding the power? If so, why should we follow her?”
 
Loghain glanced down at her for the first time. “Oh? The Grey Warden recruit I met at Ostagar. Royalty as well if I remember correctly. I had thought that we might meet again. You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden.”
 
“I appreciate the thought. I do not know or even particularly care if your accusation is true,” Aunn told him. “The fact remains that Alistair and I are not working against Ferelden and the rest of the order is either dead or not here so it has little bearing on the matter at hand. If I got a letter from the First Warden himself tomorrow telling me to leave Ferelden to its fate I would still be determined to end this Blight.”
 
“An admirable sentiment,” Loghain replied, doubt about her sincerity evident in his tone. “And for your information, I took the regency because with a Blight on our hands there wasn’t enough time to deal with all of these issues and we couldn’t afford to show any weaknesses to our neighboring states.”
 
“Well since I tragically misunderstood that and have called a Landsmeet anyway, you can explain it all to them and we’ll see if the nobles of Ferelden agree with you on that,” Eamon deadpanned.
 
Loghain forced a smile. “It is so good to see you up and about. There is talk that your illness left you feeble, you know. Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden. With any luck, you’ll be able to put those fears to rest soon as well.”
 
Despite what Eamon had instructed Alistair to do, his eyes flashed and he was clearly quite angry. “ ‘Illness’, Loghain?” he asked, barely managing to keep his voice level. “Why not admit to your poison? If it truly was ‘in the service of Ferelden’ as you claim that everything you do is, the Landsmeet will have to understand. Of course, not everyone is as easily bought as your sycophants.”
 
“Sycophants?” Loghain repeated with a laugh. “Oh, but you have been gone away from Ferelden for too long. This is Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine since the rebellion and now Arl of Denerim and Teyrn of Highever as well.”
 
“Teyrn of Highever?” Aunn asked, much surprised. “The last time I checked, Highever belonged to the Couslands.”
 
Howe’s face tightened at the words. “Then I’m afraid that you haven’t checked in quite some time. The Couslands were declared traitors to the throne nearly a year ago and are all dead, besides. I am the new Teyrn. The regent has been most generous to those who have proven loyal.”
 
“I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon,” Loghain said with a sigh. “Our land is under siege. Our king is dead. Our people are frightened. They do not need this nonsense right now. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed? For what? Your own selfish ambitions for the throne?”
 
“How ironic that I am to be accused of attempting a power grab by the self-appointed regent,” Eamon replied mildly. “And I ask that you do not speak my sister’s name in my presence after you left her son to die.”
 
Loghain’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Keeping in mind that an all-out brawl was in nobody’s best interest at the moment and knowing that Alistair certainly wouldn’t stop it, Aunn quickly spoke up. “How can we possibly stand united against the Blight when you’ve outlawed the Grey Wardens?”
 
“Cailan depended on the Grey Warden's prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well that ended. Let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us,” Loghain said bluntly.
 
“I’m not suggesting that we look to them for salvation,” Aunn countered. “But surely there is some middle ground between expecting Grey Wardens to descend from the sky on griffons and singlehandedly kill every single darkspawn in the horde and take down the Archdemon while no one else suffers any casualties and outright outlawing them!”
 
“Convince me that you genuinely have Ferelden’s best interests in mind and we’ll talk,” Loghain said dryly.
 
“I cannot forgive what you’ve done, Loghain, and my trust in you is gone,” Eamon declared quietly. “I cannot in good conscience just sit back and watch this go on. Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight.”
 
“The Emperor of Orlais also thought that I could not bring him down,” Loghain said menacingly. “Expect no more mercy than I gave him. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my homeland.” With that, he turned and began to march away.
 
“We’ve noticed,” Alistair muttered as he watched him leave.
 
“Congratulations on remaining calm,” Aunn told him.
 
Alistair managed a small smile. “Thanks. Maker knows how, but I managed it.”
 
Eamon sighed as he gestured for the pair to follow him. “I thought I was prepared to face him but…that is not the man I remember.”
 
“You sound like you admire him,” Alistair said a little accusingly.
 
“I did, once,” Eamon admitted, looking distant. “There wasn’t a man, woman, or child in Ferelden who didn’t. He was just a farmer’s son when he first met Maric but he got down on one knee and pledged to see Ferelden free or die trying and somehow he kept that promise. Alistair… You can't know what it was like to grow up as a vassal in your own land while poncy little Orlesians minced around in their silks. Because of Loghain, you’ll never have to. I never would have thought that he’d be corrupted but the facts speak for themselves. He left Cailan to die, he sent a blood mage to poison me and ended up setting off a chain of events that nearly destroyed Redcliffe, and he forced his way into the regency.”
 
Alistair looked troubled at the reminder of how much Ferelden owed Loghain. “People change,” he said finally.
 
“They do,” Eamon agreed bitterly. “I cannot afford to let nostalgia get in the way of what needs to be done. Loghain is in the wrong here and we have to prove it. Our position in the Landsmeet is not strong and we’re going to need every advantage we can find to try and erode Loghain’s support. Remember, if we fail here we won’t just risk not being able to stop Loghain. We’ll probably be cut down on the very floor of the Landsmeet or, if he’s feeling civilized, have us taken away to be executed as traitors.”
 
“That sounds like something to be avoided,” a new voice broke in. A pretty dark-haired girl that Aunn was fairly certain she’d seen before was sitting serenely at Eamon’s desk with a large mabari sleeping by her feet. She glanced Aunn’s way. “Pardon me, but have we met? I haven’t encountered many dwarves but maybe when the Wardens came?”
 
“Anastasia Cousland,” Aunn breathed as the name came back to her.
 
“Cousland?” Alistair repeated, surprised. “But Howe said that they were all dead.”
 
Anastasia’s eyes flashed. “That’s what he’d like to think, certainly, but I still live and if fate has any kindness in her at all then so does my brother.”
 
“Perhaps you can tell us your story,” Eamon invited. “I am sure that this will be difficult for you and you have my deepest condolences, Lady Cousland. Unfortunately, I had only heard rumors of your family’s death and Howe claims that they were traitors and did not explain how they died.”
 
“Well of course he wouldn’t,” Anastasia said scornfully. “And if he had offered up a story it would have been just that: a story. No one would be pleased to hear how he nobly had his soldiers massacre everyone in the castle mere hours after my brother had taken our army to Ostagar. My mother refused to leave my dying father’s side. She said it was her ‘duty as a wife’ but it seemed like she was acting more on emotion than anything else and what kind of duty requires throwing your life away so that a dying man won’t be alone in his final hours? Not that I can blame her, I guess. I wanted to stay myself but my father forced me to do my duty. Rabbit and I escaped. We tried to make our way to Ostagar but we heard the news about the loss before we could reach it and so we went to seek a safe haven at South Reach with my cousin, Arl Bryland. He took us in and shielded us but I insisted on coming to Denerim for the Landsmeet. I don’t know if Loghain had anything to do with my family’s deaths but he certainly rewarded Howe for it. I want to help.”
 
“While you may not have a technical vote in the Landsmeet while Howe is alive and claiming Highever, speaking out against his crimes against your family will certainly be useful,” Eamon decided. “The Couslands have always been very respected and your parents were known for their integrity. Nobles also won’t like the thought that Loghain would at least passively endorse an unprovoked attack of such magnitude on a noble family for fear that they could be next.”
 
“Oh, I will most definitely be at the Landsmeet,” Anastasia promised. “I was hoping that I could stay here until then as if Howe catches word that I’m alive he’ll try to have me silenced and your estate is the one place that neither can openly move against without basically proving your point.”
 
“Of course,” Eamon said agreeably. “We have plenty of room and it’s nice to have everyone close at hand.”
 
There was a knock on the door then and when Aunn turned to look, she saw an elderly servant standing there patiently with a distraught-looking elven woman standing a little behind him. “Pardon me, my Lord, but Queen Anora’s handmaiden seemed most urgent to speak to you. She said it could help your cause.”
 
Eamon nodded. “That’s fine. Kindly show Lady Cousland to a spare room, if you will.”
 
Anastasia rose, nodded to them, and followed the servant out.
 
“You said that you could help us?” Eamon prompted.
 
The handmaiden nodded. “My name is Erlina. My queen has sent me here to ask for your help.  She is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and only dark rumors, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her “not to trouble herself.” My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. She suspects that the regency is in more than name and does not want to push too far and prove herself a threat. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets and... not so subtle. So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers. He calls her every sort of name, “traitor” being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room. I think... her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon.”
 
“You’re honestly telling us that Queen Anora went up to her father’s right-hand man who is apparently blatantly evil and asks him to confess to his nefarious plots and is shocked when he doesn’t listen to her and imprisons her?” Alistair couldn’t believe it. “From what we’ve heard, it’s a miracle he didn’t kill her.”
 
“Killing her now would weaken Loghain’s claim to the throne but if it can be blamed on Arl Eamon then his challenge will be weakened even more,” Erlina explained.
 
“So now we’re supposed to save the queen from her own poor judgment or she’ll be killed and it will be blamed on us? Perfect,” Alistair said sarcastically.
 
“There are only three possibilities here,” Aunn spoke up. “One, her life is really in danger and if we save her we’ll get rid of a possible framing and gain an ally. Two, her life isn’t in danger but she wants to meet with us and figured this was the best way to make us trust her if she approached us in which case we might gain an ally. Three, her life isn’t in danger and she’s trying to lure us into the world’s most obvious trap in which case she thinks we’re all painfully stupid.”
 
“I agree but if it’s the second then we should at least hear her out and we can’t afford to take chances in case it’s the first,” Eamon opined. “Besides, Howe has always been the type to kick stray dogs in the street. Who knows what depravity you might find at his estate and that you can show to the Landsmeet as evidence of the kind of people Loghain now surrounds himself with? Who know? You might be able to connect him as well.”
 
“Very well. We’ll go with you to rescue your queen,” Aunn told her. 
 
“Yes. That is what she hoped you would say,” Erlina said, sounding overjoyed. “Loghain, he has said much about the young Grey Warden who survived. He is worried, no? I must go now but I will be back in half an hour with guard uniforms that we can use to sneak into the estate.”
 
“I’m not human,” Aunn pointed out. “And neither are several of my people. Won’t that be a problem as far as donning a disguise goes?”
 
To her surprise, Erlina shook her head. “For you, no. Dwarven guards are not common in Denerim but they do sometimes occur and so there are special dwarven uniforms. Elves occasionally get the chance to become guards as well but with the Alienage locked down due to riots and a purge from shortly after Ostagar until just a few days ago, there aren’t any among the ranks of the guards now.” Erlina bowed quickly to them before hurrying out of the room, presumably to go track down those guard uniforms.
 
“We don’t believe her…do we?” Alistair asked uncertainly.
 
“I don’t know enough about Anora to say,” Aunn replied. “If she’s anything like the ‘strong and capable queen’ Loghain described then I have to say that I really don’t.”
 
“Anora has always been a very capable administrator of Cailan’s lands,” Eamon agreed. “For whatever faults she has, gullibility is not one of them nor is impulsiveness. She wouldn’t run off to confront Howe with no backup plan if things went sour and appealing to her father’s enemies is hardly what I would call a sound backup plan.”
 
When Alistair and Aunn went off to go round up the rest of their group, Alistair rubbed his forehead. “So let me get this straight...we have to make nice with people who we want to kill and vice versa because we have to pretend that we don’t desperately want each other dead and queens who may or may not have any actual power send messengers who may or may not be lying about her being held captive by Howe under suspicious circumstances and who we don’t even remotely trust but we have to aid because if not we could get in trouble for a murder Howe or Loghain commits.”
 
“That just about sums it up,” Aunn agreed cheerfully.
 
“We’ve been in Denerim for all of an hour,” Alistair complained. “And we’re already dealing with all of this? I can just imagine how bad it will be by the time the Landsmeet comes around. Or, dear Maker, if I actually take the throne and survive the Blight and am called upon EVERY DAY to deal with this kind of thing! I can’t believe I’m about to say this but…I never should have left that Chantry…”
 
“It really won’t be that bad,” Aunn assured him. “If nothing else, your brother already died and you’re only indirectly being blamed for it.”
 
“You know, if you were a normal person then you wouldn’t consider that to be a comforting fact,” Alistair mused.
 
“True but if I were a normal person than I’d probably make a terrible Warden,” Aunn pointed out.
 
Alistair barked out a laugh. “You’re already a terrible Warden.”
 
Aunn crossed her arms defensively. Just because she kind of agreed didn’t mean she had to admit it or wanted to hear other people say it. “Oh, I am not!”
 
Alistair raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. “Really.”
 
“Really.”
 
“Exactly how soon after the Blight is over do you intend to leave the Wardens and go back to Orzammar?” Alistair asked her.
 
“The minute I hear anything telling me that I can,” Aunn said promptly. “But that doesn’t make me an awful Warden! I’m planning on staying through the Blight, am I not?”
 
“Only a truly terrible Warden would leave right on the eve of going to confront the horde,” Alistair pointed out. “In fact, I don’t think they’d even be deserving of being called a Warden at all if they were willing to do it. So you do qualify as a Warden, just not a particularly good one.”
 
“Like you’re any better,” Aunn countered. “You can’t be a king AND a Warden. If you do take the throne you’ll have to step down as an active Warden because people will worry about you being influenced by foreign powers and you won’t exactly be able to perform any Warden duties while you’re busy ruling Ferelden.”
 
Alistair chuckled. “So the world’s worst two Wardens are Ferelden’s only hope. That sounds…really, really bad. Still, at least we can be sure that we’re both good enough to even qualify.”
 
“You know, Alistair, if you were a normal person…”

[Sarah1281]

Chapters Thirty: Preparations


They were supposed to head straight for Howe’s estate. Unfortunately, on their way there Oghren suddenly stopped and hurried away from the group.
 
Aunn sighed. “I’ll handle this,” she said, going after him. Alistair had yet to have much success conversing with Oghren. Whenever he tried, Oghren, who had discovered to his delight that Alistair blushed easily, began listing off euphemisms – some of which were assuredly ones he’d made up himself – and Alistair ended up deciding that he really didn’t need to talk to Oghren all that badly.
 
As a too-large force would make it harder to sneak into Howe’s estate, Aunn had chosen to leave the more conspicuous members of the party behind. Shale would never be able to be disguised here on the Surface and if anyone in Denerim had one then they certainly wouldn’t be wasted on a simple guard. Erlina had been unable to find any qunari-size uniforms so Sten had had to stay behind as well, much to his annoyance since they were finally going after an enemy directly and getting ready to deal with the Blight. Aunn almost had to feel sorry for him. His patience had to be absolutely stretched to the limits at this point.
 
While this was Ferelden and thus Mabari were liable to turn up at the oddest of places, there was no guarantee that Trian would stay silent or that no one would find it odd that he wasn’t in some sort of kennel and so he could go. Erlina had found two dwarven uniforms and so Oghren was allowed to come but, after some debate, Zevran had been instructed to stay behind as well because the riots Erlina had mentioned that took place in the Alienage might draw attention to an obviously elven guard. Given that Alistair was one of only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden and, because the Landsmeet couldn’t be called without him, currently the less expendable of the pair, he really should have stayed behind as well. Eamon had practically pleaded with him to stay behind and talk to Anastasia Cousland (Aunn could tell a matchmaking attempt when she saw it though Alistair seemed less than convinced that that was what his former guardian was up to).
 
Aunn caught up to Oghren just in time to hear him saying, “I'm fighting. It's what warriors do. But don't let me distract you from hawking your junk.”
 
“You’re fighting?” Gorim scoffed. “What army would have you?” That’s when he caught sight of Aunn who smiled awkwardly.
 
Oghren jerked his thumb at her. “That’s who. The Princess and her Grey Wardens.”
 
“You know, Oghren, Queen Anora won’t rescue herself,” Aunn pointed out. Apparently Oghren and Gorim had issues with each other (which given that Oghren was the laughingstock of the warrior caste and Gorim had been at the top was understandable for both of them) but she didn’t want to deal with this right now. Hopefully, the implication that Oghren was far too busy with important things would be enough to get him moving.
 
“No, I reckon she won’t,” Oghren agreed. “Bye, Gorim. Try not to mess up your sales pitch next time.” With that, he trotted back over to Alistair.
 
Gorim was silent for a moment. “My lady, you know I would never question your judgment,” he began.
 
“Oh, never,” Aunn mock-agreed, knowing what was coming.
 
“But Oghren? Seriously?” he asked, shaking his head in stark disbelief.
 
“Well, it’s not like I can really afford to start turning away allies, especially now,” Aunn pointed out. “Apparently the Blight has swallowed up the south of the country and Loghain – who refuses to believe we’re not working against Ferelden – has a lot of support here.”
 
“I know,” Gorim agreed reluctantly. “But…Oghren.”
 
“He’s a very talented fighter,” Aunn said defensively.
 
“Have you ever seen him sober?” Gorim challenged.
 
Aunn winced. “He’s quite skilled at drunken fighting. And besides…after my companions killed his wife in front of him I felt almost obligated to let him come along when he asked.”
 
Gorim froze. “You…you killed the Paragon Branka?”
 
“Oh, Ancestors, no!” Aunn exclaimed, horrified. “I did kill some golems she had with her, though. Someone else killed her. I don’t even know who.” She paused. “I did kill my brother, though. Not Trian, of course, but…”
 
“I had heard about Lord Harrowmont taking the throne and Bhelen’s attempted coup,” Gorim replied. “The stories weren’t very detailed. It just said that ‘the Grey Warden’ did it. I knew that meant you, naturally, but I didn’t realize that you were the one to have to kill Bhelen yourself. Even after what he did, that couldn’t have been easy. I’m sorry, my lady.”
 
“Thank you,” Aunn said quietly. “I…misjudged him, I guess. I thought that he could live with Harrowmont taking the throne, at least for a time. I thought he’d just consolidate his forces and then take the throne after Harrowmont’s death. By the Ancestors, the man is ten years older than my father was! Apparently I was wrong and Bhelen attacked at in the Assembly Chamber itself mere moments after Harrowmont was crowned. I didn’t want him to die, exactly, but since he was going to anyway and since part of it was my doing, I felt obligated to do it myself. Does that make any sense?”
 
“It does,” Gorim assured her. “Very few people I’ve known have deserved their death as richly as Bhelen did or vengeance as much as you but when you come down to it, he was still your little brother and your elder brother and both of your parents were already dead.”
 
That reminded Aunn of something that she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around. “I’m an aunt.”
 
“Pardon?” Gorim asked, surprised.
 
“Bhelen had a son with some noble hunter. His name is Endrin as well. I saw him at Bhelen’s funeral,” Aunn explained.
 
Gorim shook his head. “Will wonders never cease. I can tell that you’re happy about this and so please allow me to congratulate you on this.”
 
Aunn blinked. She hadn’t really thought about it given how clearly Rica resented her for what Bhelen had said about her and for the fact that she had later killed him (although saving, what was it, Sereda had made it so that she didn’t think Aunn pure evil now) and that she had made it so that little Endrin would grow up fatherless but she actually was pretty pleased to have a nephew. It would figure that he’d notice that before she would.
 
It had been several months since she had last seen him and even though it still hurt a little, the pain was far less severe than it had been the last time they’d spoken. Time once again proved that it healed all wounds, it seemed. She smiled at the thought. She was well and truly getting over him which was about damn time and would make their future meetings far less awkward though she still didn’t particularly relish the thought of meeting Belgret Saelac. “I’ll try to stop by again before I leave the city,” she promised. “But I really need to go now. As I told Oghren, the queen won’t rescue herself.”
 
“Wait, so you’re really going out to rescue Queen Anora?” Gorim asked, surprised. “I thought you were just saying that to give Oghren a high point to leave on.”
 
“A little of both, really,” Aunn admitted. “Is it really so surprising?”
 
“For most people, it would be,” Gorim declared. “For you…not so much. Take care of yourself, my lady.”
 
“You, too, Gorim,” Aunn replied before turning away to join the others.




Sneaking in had been surprisingly easy. Erlina had run up to the guards at one of the back doors screaming about a darkspawn and, though the guards were at first inclined to ignore her, eventually her panic convinced them to at least check it out and the group was able to slip through. Erlina caught up to them before long and led them through Howe’s estate with minimal difficulty. One of the rooms they went through which was supposed to be empty instead had one of the guards being serviced by one of the servants and he had somehow been instantly able to tell that they didn’t belong despite the fact that no one else seemed to notice or care and so they’d had to silence him and the unfortunate girl in a rather dramatic example of unmarried sex killing.
 
Now, standing in front of Anora’s door, they found that they couldn’t get in because there was a blue magical barrier blocking the way.
 
“Is there any reason you didn’t tell us about this before we got here?” Alistair asked, annoyed.
 
“It was not here when I left, I swear it!” Erlina exclaimed.
 
“See, I’ve been wondering about that as well,” Alistair remarked. “How is it that Queen Anora’s been taken prisoner and yet her trusted handmaiden is allowed to go wherever she pleases? And for that matter, isn’t Loghain supposed to be notoriously anti-Orlesian? Why does he let the clearly Orlesian Erlina stay around anyway?” Leliana looked a little awkward at this.
 
“There will be time for questions when I’m free,” Anora snapped through the door, which Aunn translated as ‘I’m not even going to answer you.’ “Now, killing the mage who cast this barrier should free me. There may be another way but I do not know what that is and it would certainly take longer and we need to hurry. The mage in question should be with Howe and, knowing him, he’ll be somewhere in one of his torture chambers.”
 
“One of?” Wynne asked disapprovingly.
 
“We’ll get you out of there in no time,” Leliana promised. “Where is the torture chamber?”
 
Erlina pointed the way and they headed off.
 
“You know, it really says something about a man when he keeps his bedroom right besides his torture chamber,” Oghren noted.
 
Ever mindful of the need to find something to use against Howe and hopefully Loghain at the Landsmeet, they grabbed the papers they found in a chest on their way down to the dungeon which Alistair excitedly noted contained instructions on performing the Joining among other things. He was still chatting happily about how great this was when they entered a room with only one cell and one guard standing in front of it. When the guard glanced over at them, an arm reached out and began to strangle the guard.
 
None of them felt particularly inclined to save a guard that would have just attacked them the moment they did and so they just stood around watching. The mysterious prisoner pulled the key out of the guard’s pocket, opened the door to his cell, and then pulled the dead guard in there with him. A few moments later, he emerged in the guard’s uniform which was only a little ill-fitting.
 
“Hello,” he said, sounding surprisingly cheerful given that he’d just violently killed a man after being imprisoned for what appeared to be awhile. “I must thank you for your timely arrival. I had been waiting for weeks to make my escape.”
 
“I know you…don’t I?” Alistair asked uncertainly.
 
The man frowned. “I believe so. Alistair, right? I was at your Joining. My name is Riordan and though I’m a Warden from Jader, I was born and raised in Highever.”
 
“Another Warden,” Morrigan said speculatively. “Have you been one long?”
 
Riordan nodded. “I actually had the same Joining as Duncan. Does he still live?”
 
Alistair’s face fell. “No. He died at Ostagar.”
 
“I see,” Riordan said, looking upset for a moment.
 
“May I ask how you got captured?” Wynne inquired.
 
Riordan shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. After Teyrn Loghain assumed Ferelden’s regency he rescinded King Cailan’s request for foreign Wardens. As I was born in Ferelden, I thought I would be safer coming than most and I didn’t want to watch this nation fall. Loghain realized who I was sooner than I thought and one poisoned chalice later I wake up here.”
 
“Though I’ve forgotten how many reasons I have to hate Loghain, I should mention that this definitely goes on said list,” Alistair announced.
 
“You should really see some sort of physician,” Leliana declared. “We’re staying at Arl Eamon’s estate and I’m sure you would be most welcome there.”
 
Riordan nodded his head. “I will join you there then. I would stay and help you with…whatever it is that you’re doing but I really should get my injuries looked at and I don’t want to be a burden.”




As it turned out, even if things with Anora went nowhere, Aunn was officially glad that they had come. Howe’s dungeon had proved to be a veritable lyrium mine. They found the son of Bann Sighard lying, helpless but annoyed, on a rack. Sighard was apparently a Loghain supporter but Oswyn was confident that, even though his relationship with his father was such that he wasn’t even remotely surprised to think that the bann had just left him there to be tortured for months, once Sighard found out about this he would switch sides. Perhaps it was because Howe and possibly Loghain had dared to move against him by taking his son even if there appeared to be no love lost between them? Alistair asked why Oswyn was there in the first place and found out that he had apparently spoken to someone he trusted who had been at Ostagar and who had claimed that he had been ordered to retreat while there was still a chance to save Cailan. Aunn rather doubted he could know this as the only ones ordered to retreat were Loghain’s forces and Loghain couldn’t see Cailan so it followed that neither could his forces standing behind him. Still, she could understand why Howe and possibly Loghain wouldn’t want such accusations to reach the ear of one of their allies.
 
They had found a templar who Alistair speculated had gone mad from lyrium withdrawal and who, though they opened the cage, just crouched their as if he weren’t aware of their presence. It really was disturbing to see the lengths the Chantry would go to keep control over their minions. There was another templar there named Irminric who couldn’t make it out of his cell but, though also suffering from lyrium withdrawal, wasn’t as far gone as the first. He had given them a ring to give to his sister, Bann Alfstanna. If she heard of this, then she’d almost certainly side against Howe. There was a red-headed elf who claimed that he had been imprisoned for killing the previous Arl’s son after said son had kidnapped women from their Alienage in order to rape them. His sister had already been raped by the time he and his cousin managed to kill Vaughan but they’d been caught afterwards and his cousin had been executed. He’d seemed quite eager to get back home and Leliana had insisted on giving him a few coins before letting him go.
 
They finally found Howe with two mages – or at least men in mage robes – at his side near the back of the dungeon.
 
“Well, well. The Grey Warden,” he drawled as he turned to face them, sounding most unimpressed. “I must say I'm surprised Eamon would condone you invading my castle and murdering my men. It seems almost criminal for such a big hero. Is he losing faith in the persuasive powers of his Landsmeet?”
 
“No, really just in Anora’s ability to stay alive and not have her death pinned on us,” Aunn replied. “Speaking of which, we’d really like to just get her out of the room she’s barricaded in so we can leave.”
 
“And just what do you think are the odds that I’ll agree to that?” Howe asked contemptuously.
 
“If you don’t take our initial offer then that’s just fine,” Aunn said calmly. “We’re fully prepared to do some aggressive negotiating.”
 
Morrigan helpfully shot a bolt of magic at one of the mages to prove her point and the battle was on. Aunn had to admit, Howe was very talented. The two mages went down with some difficulty but Howe just would not die. Eventually, Wynne froze him and Alistair decapitated the man.
 
They hurried back to Anora and found her standing in the doorway of the now-barrier-free door in a guard uniform. Despite the fact that she was no taller than Morrigan, Anora looked far stranger in it than anyone else did. Perhaps it was the fact that she held herself so stiffly so as to make it clear that she wasn’t comfortable in the armor.
 
“What’s with the costume?” Oghren asked. 
 
“I’m wearing this so that it will more difficult to recognize me should we be held up on the way to Arl Eamon’s estate,” Anora explained. “If we get held up, I know that it will be tempting to try and reason with whoever it is and tell them who I am. I’m going to ask you not to do that.”
 
“Why not?” Wynne asked.
 
“Once we get out of the vicinity of the estate, we will probably be fine as you apparently haven’t had any difficulty moving about the city,” Anora replied. “But before then we run the risk of being accosted and there are only three kinds of people we could run into. Howe’s people, my people, or my father’s people. Howe’s people will probably kill me. My people will take me back to the palace as will my father’s people. My father might also kill me…and at the very least if he catches me with you he will make me miss the Landsmeet so any aid I might be able to offer you would be worthless.”
 
“Alright, we won’t reveal your identity,” Aunn promised and then promptly regretted it when standing in front of the exit was the woman who had been with Loghain and Howe to greet them upon arriving in Denerim and far too many troops to make fighting seem like a good idea with a diminished party and Anora and Erlina as non-combatants.
 
“Warden! In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms,” she said formally. “Surrender, and you may be shown mercy.”
 
“Oh come on!” Alistair complained. “How could you possibly know he’s dead? He was killed fifteen minutes ago! And even if you just assumed that he’s dead because we’re here and armed why were you even here in the first place? And who are you, even?”
 
“I am Ser Cauthrien,” Cauthrien introduced. “Lieutenant to Teyrn Loghain.”
 
“You know, she’s right there,” Alistair muttered.
 
“We just promised we wouldn’t five minutes ago,” Aunn replied quietly.
 
“Maybe you promised but I don’t see how that could possibly make the situation worse,” Alistair countered.
 
“Unless, in order to prevent her father from finding out she’s reaching out to us, she claims we’re kidnapping her,” Aunn argued.
 
“…Point,” he conceded.
 
“Stop muttering over there,” Cauthrien ordered. “Now what say you? Will you go quietly or will you force us to drag you to Fort Drakon?”
 
Fort Drakon…she didn’t know much about that place but it had a fearsome reputation. “What incentive could we possibly have for surrendering when there is a chance, however slim, of escaping if we fight?” Aunn queried.
 
“That’s a fair question. If you surrender then I would only take you and Alistair in,” Cauthrien replied. “You’re the only one’s Loghain cares about anyway. Everyone else would be free to go. You would not be executed or even tortured at Fort Drakon until Loghain has time to interrogate you first and pass judgment on what you’ve done here. If you neglect to surrender then all bets are off.”
 
“Do you think we can take them?” Alistair whispered. “This is your decision as well as mine.”


“I’m not sure,” Aunn whispered back. “Especially not without risking Anora’s life or identity. I don’t like the idea of surrendering but if she keeps her word we may get a chance to escape before Loghain comes.”
 
“She seems to be the honorable type,” Alistair decided. “Who knows what she’s doing with a man like Loghain. Besides, regardless of how evil Howe was and our reasons for doing so, killing him is still illegal and so she’s just doing her job. I’d feel bad about killing her if we didn’t have to.”
 
Aunn nodded. “We surrender,” she said, the words almost causing her physical pain. True to her word, at least for now, Cauthrien signaled her men to let everyone who didn’t happen to be a Warden through the door to the outside as she and Alistair were taken into custody.




“So what do you think?” Alistair asked roughly an hour later. He and Aunn had been stripped of their armor and possessions (though it had all been conveniently placed in a chest outside of their cell) but Cauthrien had been as good as her word and they had been largely ignored aside from that. It made Aunn glad that she hadn’t promised not to escape so she wouldn’t have to renege on her side of the bargain. “Should we see if we can get out of here ourselves or wait for someone to come and save us for a change?”
 
“While it would be nice to see one of them showing some initiative,” Aunn replied, pulling a pin out of her hair and moving to the lock. “I’m going to have to go with ‘escape now.’ I mean, do I look like a damsel in distress?”




All in all, Fort Drakon was far easier to get out of than she’d been led to believe. Really, the hardest part was killing the single armed and armored guard who was in the same room as their cell when they weren’t had nothing but their fists but Alistair eventually managed to break his neck like Riordan had earlier. Once that was done, they re-donned their uniforms and got themselves sent out on patrol. There were a couple of tense moments such as when the quartermaster wouldn’t give them the new armor they needed to pass inspection because he wanted some petty revenge on the two other men that were supposed to patrol with them and they’d had to bribe him and when, during inspection, Alistair had been asked what a soldier couldn’t do without. For one horrifying moment, Aunn thought that Alistair was going to ask her and make them fail the inspection and be unable to leave. Fortunately, after looking at her for a minute, he had responded with ‘honor.’ The answer the captain was looking for was ‘discipline’ but he was willing to accept Alistair’s alternative.
 
Once they went out on their ‘patrol’, the two actual guards were quickly taken out by the others who had come to ‘rescue’ them. Aunn wasn’t entirely sure why Oghren, Zevran, and Sten were dressed as circus performers and Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan as Chantry Sisters. Leliana had seemed quite put out that they wouldn’t get to put their plan into action but Aunn was unmoved. Leliana’s desire to…do whatever it was she was planning wasn’t a good enough reason to stay put in Fort Drakon and risking Loghain showing up for any longer than necessary.
 
Once they were all back safely at Eamon’s estate, Anora thanked her for surrendering to save her, Eamon made it clear that he didn’t like Anora and would have rather not have to deal with her, and Anora suggested she go investigate the Alienage to find more to use against her father now that Howe was dead and also requested that she come speak with her before the Landsmeet which was to take place the very next day.
 
Aunn saw no problem with that and so while most of the group went to go check out the Alienage, she instead sought out Anora.




“Thank you for coming to see me, Warden,” Anora said graciously. “I apologize but I didn’t catch your name.”
 
“Aunn,” Aunn introduced.
 
“A pleasure,” Anora told her. “Now, the Landsmeet is fast approaching and so there isn’t much time for subtly. Whatever Eamon’s motivations for calling the Landsmeet, I believe that I understand yours. My father has outlawed your order and as long as he’s Ferelden’s regent, you and your allies will have a great deal of unnecessary difficulty combating the Blight.”
 
Aunn nodded. “My primary goal is clearing that up, yes, but I would prefer to also try to make an informed decision here rather than just hurriedly picking someone to get this over with.”
 
“I am relieved to hear that,” Anora said, favoring her with a small smile. “And that’s why I’ve come to you. You have Eamon’s ear and your voice will be important at the Landsmeet. Your order is purportedly neutral and that will help here as they’ll think you won’t have an ulterior motive regardless of if that’s true. I would welcome your support for my throne, Aunn.”
 
“An alliance?” Aunn asked neutrally. “I’m listening.”
 
“You have two options here,” Anora began. “Alistair and myself. I may have officially only been Cailan’s consort but he was never interested in ruling and so that fell to me. The last five years, I’ve been ruling this country. I have the experience needed to take us through this trying time.”
 
“Wouldn’t that mean that you’re the voice of the status quo?” Aunn queried.
 
“I suppose you could say that,” Anora agreed. “And so all the problems Ferelden has can be blamed on me, I take it? Some of that is fair but you have to understand that Ferelden’s monarch has never been all-powerful and when more power is taken it causes…problems. Like my father’s civil war. The Alienage, I suppose, is a big concern or at least it will be when Alistair and your other followers get back. I cannot deny that it’s in horrible condition but there wasn’t anything that I could do and that doesn’t say anything about my abilities as queen.”
 
“How so?” Aunn asked. “Denerim is your capital city, after all.”
 
“True,” Anora acknowledged. “But the Alienage is under the control of the Arl of Denerim. Arl Urien died at Ostagar and his son was often left in charge. Arl Howe took over almost immediately after the massacre at Ostagar. Cailan’s advisors were desperate that he never see what went on there. I don’t think he ever really realized how the other half lived, so to speak, while my father made sure that I at least knew it was out there, probably due to his own humble beginnings. Additionally, five years isn’t enough time to completely change the social order of Ferelden. In some ways, we’ve still not yet recovered from Orlesian rule and we need to focus on moving Ferelden forward and to stop being the backwater country no one can take seriously. I can do that.”
 
“That sounds admirable,” Aunn remarked. “You don’t think that Alistair could as well?”
 
Anora stared at her. “In a word…no. Cailan had a strange fascination in his mysterious commoner half-brother who could go out and half all the adventures that he never could. I can’t even begin to tell you how jealous he was when he found out that Alistair was going to get to become a Grey Warden and he wasn’t. My husband told me everything that he learned about Alistair because he just got so excited and wanted to share it with one of the few people who both knew of Alistair’s existence and wasn’t uncomfortable with the subject. Alistair seems to have been raised almost deliberately so that he wouldn’t be able or even inclined to rule. He’s indecisive and can’t make the hard decisions that a leader has to, much less a king. He has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to ruling so even if he eventually shaped up to be a decent king, he would be utterly lost at first and people would take advantage.”
 
Anora took a breath and continued. “I may not know very much about Alistair personally but everyone is convinced that he’s weak and just a puppet Eamon’s using to try and seize power. It doesn’t even matter if that’s true because perception is a powerful thing. Alistair is going to need advice at some point and who will he turn to for that? Arl Eamon. Redcliffe. The Bannorn will connect the dots and we’ll have problems again.”
 
“You make a good point,” Aunn conceded. “I believe that Alistair is stronger than you think but, just the same, he’s not been trained for this at all. One question, though. What happens to Alistair if you become queen?”
 
“What do you mean?” Anora asked carefully.
 
“Like you said, we don’t have much time so allow me to be blunt,” Aunn said a little apologetically. “The minute Alistair is placed before the Landsmeet as a candidate to become king then he becomes a threat to you and the Landsmeet cannot be called without putting Alistair forward, particularly as you don’t want people to know you stand against your father yet and Eamon – who is calling the Landsmeet – is for Alistair. Even if you could get him to swear fealty to you and mean it, once a rival is introduced he’d be a convenient rallying point for any and all rebellions. The minute you do something a section of the population doesn’t agree with – which is inevitable – or a noble gets it into his head to try and seize more power then they’ll just him to justify a rebellion.”
 
“If you can understand the need for such decisive action, what’s the problem?” Anora asked her.
 
“The problem is that Alistair and I have been working together for a year now and he has actually proven himself a friend. He’s being used by Eamon to take down your father and he’s well-aware of this but he knows how important it is to let himself be used here. I don’t want to see him become a sacrifice because Ferelden’s nobility cannot solve its own problems,” Aunn said flatly. “If that was the only way then I would, reluctantly, allow it to happen but there is another option.”
 
“Are you talking about putting Alistair on the throne?” Anora demanded. “Because I already explained why-”
 
“I’m not,” Aunn cut in. “I’m saying that he’s a man and you’re a woman. He’s not in a relationship and you’ve been recently widowed. He’s got the Theirin blood and warrior credentials and you’ve got the noble trappings and ruling experience.” She’d mention that then they could have a Theirin heir but she knew of Eamon’s suspicious, at least, about Anora’s fertility and Alistair’s own issues as a Grey Warden. Besides, they could probably find someone somewhere to appoint as heir if they never managed to have a child together and as someone who also didn’t want to have children, she couldn’t really tell them that they had to have one.
 
“Are you…are you suggesting that we marry?” Anora laughed incredulously. “I have no intention of ruling as another man’s consort.”
 
“I’m proposing that we present you and Alistair as joint-rulers,” Aunn clarified. “Orzammar has done that in the past on rare occasions. Does Ferelden have such a precedent?”


“It does,” Anora admitted. “Though this hasn’t been done for quite some time. If we had joint power…that could work as long as he didn’t try to dismiss me as a mere consort.”
 
“He won’t,” Aunn assured her. “Alistair’s not the type to horde power and, as you said, he’ll need advice. Who better to turn to than his wife? And consulting you wouldn’t concern the Bannorn as much as asking Eamon would, either.”
 
“What does Alistair have to say about all of this?” Anora asked shrewdly.
 
“I haven’t discussed the matter with him yet,” Aunn replied. “I thought you would be more difficult to convince and so there was no point approaching him about it unless you’d agreed first.”
 
“But you think that you can convince him?” Anora asked dubiously.
 
Aunn nodded. “I’m positive. Alistair will do his duty and even if he doesn’t trust you, he will respect your experience. If he can be convinced that the marriage is for the good of Ferelden – which I believe it is – then he’ll do it. If he does become king on his own, he’d need an arranged marriage anyway.”
 
“And what if he says no?” Anora asked seriously. “You say you can convince him but what if you can’t? Who would you support?”
 
“If you agree to this compromise but he won’t then you have my word that I will support you,” Aunn pledged. “And I’ll make it clear to Alistair that if he intends to take the throne then he will need to marry you. You have yet to commit to anything, though, and if you refuse my terms then I’ll have to side with Alistair.”
 
“So you’d openly oppose me?” Anora asked, surprised. I would have pretended to be allies and then blindside you at the Landsmeet.”
 
“Would you believe me if I did say that I’d support you and leave Alistair to die?” Aunn asked pointedly.
 
“I suppose not,” Anora admitted. “Now, before I give my answer, there is something I must know and then a condition of my own. You seem to care quite a bit about Alistair. Are you two…involved?”
 
Aunn couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, especially after she had already mentioned that Alistair wasn’t involved with anybody. “No. Just…no. I can understand why you’re asking, though. We’re not involved but even if we had been, I nor any of the other women – or men – travelling with us have any ideas about being Alistair’s royal mistress.” Aunn would rather stab herself than willing accept such a demeaning position.
 
“Good,” Anora said with cautious optimism. “Now, I would prefer to rule alone. Marrying Alistair would inconvenience me quite a bit although at least there would be no pressure on me to remarry since I will have already had. If I do this then I’m going to have to ask you for something in return.”
 
Aunn gestured for her to go on. “I’m listening.”
 
“I don’t know what will happen to my father at the Landsmeet,” Anora confessed. “If we can find enough evidence to get the nobles to reject him as regent then he isn’t just going to be able to walk away. They may order him executed outright and if it comes to that then I will be forced to accept it. Just the same…I don’t want my father to die. He’s done a lot wrong, I know, but still…” she trailed off.
 
“I know,” Aunn murmured. She felt the same way, really. “What are you asking?”
 
“If there is any reasonable way to spare my father’s life – be it exile, imprisonment, or even recruitment into your order – then I want you to take it,” Anora announced.
 
Aunn frowned. “I would not be opposed to that, I don’t think. Alistair, though…he hates your father. Some of his reasons are justified and some of them are just the result of losing people at Ostagar and believing that your father could have saved them. He will react…badly.”
 
“How badly, exactly?” Anora inquired.
 
“I really don’t know,” Aunn answered. “At best, he’ll never speak to me again. At worst, he’ll try to kill your father anyway or refuse to stay and fight. Just the same…I believe he can be convinced to stay and rule. Just…keep him away from your father.”
 
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anora said dryly. “So do we have a deal? I support you at the Landsmeet and agree to marry Alistair and you support our joint rule and honestly try to spare my father’s life?”
 
“Yes,” Aunn said, knowing full well that Alistair was going to kill her for this. “I will.”




“Do you have a moment?” Anastasia Cousland asked as Aunn was walking past the room she was staying in.
 
Aunn nodded. The Howes might technically still hold Highever but the Arl was dead and had no relatives in Denerim as far as Aunn could tell. Powerful noble families did not lose influence so completely so quickly, either. “Certainly.”
 
Anastasia looked a little nervous and began wringing her hands before she caught herself. “The last time I saw you, you, Duncan, and Ser Gilmore were leaving for Ostagar. That battle became a massacre and people said that all the Wardens were dead. You’re not dead and neither is Alistair so clearly that’s not quite true. But…Ser Gilmore isn’t with you. Could you tell me, perhaps, what became of him?”
 
“He became a Grey Warden,” Aunn told her. She thought back to the red-headed knight that had been her companion for several weeks and that had seemed to be Anastasia’s Gorim. “He was a very sensible man which I appreciated and he had a sense of humor. He never got around to telling me why your dog was named Rabbit and he was very worried when Cailan said that your father never showed up. He was in the battle and Alistair and I weren’t. I believe that he’s dead but I never saw a body.”
 
Anastasia’s eyes flickered. “I see. You’d think that I’d have gotten used to losing people by now. It wasn’t that I expected him to have survived but I’d hoped…I heard you killed that bastard, Howe.”
 
“I did,” Aunn confirmed. It was a bit strange. She hadn’t cared one way or another about Howe’s death and had only killed him because she’d had to and yet this meant so much to the woman in front of her. “I’m guessing that you wanted that honor but he forced our hand when we were trying to get Anora out of there.”
 
“Oh, I bet he did,” Anastasia said grimly. “I would have liked to do it personally but I know that, realistically, I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity until the Blight was over or else the Landsmeet would have punished him and I wouldn’t have gotten to do it anyway. As long as he’s dead, I think that’s really the only thing that matters. So thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Aunn responded for a lack of anything else to say.
 
“And I just want you to know that, whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll have my support for what you’ve done,” Anastasia declared boldly.




Alistair was full of righteous fury when he returned from the Alienage. “And then, and then the slaver had the gall to ask me to let him take ‘one last shipment’!” he fumed. “I said no and so he attacked. Then, right when we were about to kill him, he begged us not to and offered to sacrifice the elves we were there to save in a blood magic ritual to make us a little stronger! Morrigan thought it was a great idea but everyone else realized that that was a stupid idea. And what’s more, it turns out that the leader of the Alienage was among one of those that were going to be in the ‘one last shipment’!”
 
“Maker forgive me I should be more appalled but my horror is tempered by the knowledge of just how badly this will hurt Loghain at the Landsmeet tomorrow,” Eamon mused. “Excellent work, Alistair. And if you’re really that upset about the conditions in the Alienage, remember that the Arl of Denerim controls that and once you’re king you can appoint who you like to fill the position. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some last-minute preparations for tomorrow.”
 
“Hey Alistair, I heard Riordan made it back here,” Aunn announced. “Let’s go see him and see if we can’t actually find out something about this legendary order of ours.”
 
Alistair nodded his consent and the two quickly found Riordan examining one of the paintings in the hall.
 
Riordan turned to face them when he heard them coming. “I'm glad you made it safely away from Fort Drakon. Most people don’t have such a short stay…well, and live to tell the tale, at least. I hear Howe's death has already brought no small amount of cheer to the city.”
 
“Riordan, Alistair was only a Grey Warden for six months before he began the senior Ferelden Warden and I was only one for a few hours,” Aunn explained. “As such, we were hoping that there were some things that you could clear up for us.”
 
“I would be happy to help in any way I can,” Riordan assured them.


“So you know how everyone says that a Grey Warden has to be the one to slay the Archdemon?” Alistair asked. “Is that true or just an exaggeration given that we already have an advantage when it comes to fighting darkspawn? And if it is true, why? Does it have something to do with the taint?”
 
Riordan blinked at them. “You really are uninformed, aren’t you? Yes, a Grey Warden must literally be the one to slay an Archdemon. Someone else could technically kill it but in that case then it was all for nothing as the soul of the old god would seek out the nearest tainted vessel and possess it. As a darkspawn has no soul, its consciousness fades away and the Archdemon is reborn. The first Blight lasted for decades. In that time, the Archdemon was killed time after time but it never lasted until the Grey Wardens were created and one of them killed it.”
 
“Why does a Grey Warden killing it stop it from being reborn?” Aunn wanted to know.
 
“Because the soul of the Archdemon enters the Warden instead of a darkspawn,” Riordan explained. “Two souls cannot exist within one body and so the Warden is killed and the Archdemon is stopped and the Blight ended.”
 
“So whoever kills the Archdemon…perishes?” Alistair asked, looking upset.
 
Riordan nodded. “I’m afraid so, Alistair. I’m planning on going to go out and spy on the movement of the horde after the Landsmeet is over but I’ll try to make it back to confront them when you do. Traditionally, the most senior Warden is the one to decide who should kill the Archdemon and since you’re both so young – and Alistair is to become a king! – and I am beginning to get close to my Calling, I will endeavor to be the one to make the final blow if at all possible. If I fall, though, then I’m afraid that the duty to end the Blight falls to you.”
 
“We understand,” Aunn said solemnly. “Thank you for letting us know this.”
 
“It was no problem,” Riordan claimed before turning back to his portrait.
 
“How do you like that?” Alistair mumbled as they walked away. “Someone has to die to end the Blight. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, it’s a small price to pay but I’d still rather not have to. Look, if Riordan dies before he can get to the Archdemon then I want you to let me take the final blow.”
 
“While I’m not exactly suicidal over here, that would be a really bad idea seeing as how you’re going to be king,” Aunn pointed out. “And speaking of…how do you feel about Anora?”
 
Alistair looked confused at the sudden change of topic. “Anora? She’s smart, certainly, and capable. But she’s just like her father in that she thinks she’s the only one who can save Ferelden and everyone else had better not get in her way. And I definitely don’t trust her.”
 
“I think you two should get married and rule together,” Aunn told him, deciding to just get it out there in the open instead of dancing around the subject.
 
Alistair choked. “I…wait, what? You can’t be serious.”
 
“I am,” Aunn insisted. “And she’s already agreed to it.”
 
“Why would she agree to marry me?” Alistair demanded. “She didn’t appear to like me very much.”
 
“No, she doesn’t,” Aunn admitted. “But she also has no idea how much you’ve grown since Cailan last told her about you. I think you just might surprise her.”
 
“Cailan…he told her about me?” Alistair asked, stunned.
 
“He was apparently quite interested in you and terribly jealous that you got to be a Grey Warden and he didn’t,” Aunn confided. “But anyway, she wanted my support for her throne and I said I’d give it to her if she supported us at the Landsmeet tomorrow and also agreed to marry you. I said that if she refused then I’d support you alone and, to be fair, if you refused then I’m backing her.”
 
“So if I refuse to marry Anora because I don’t trust her then I’m going to be forced to let her rule all by herself?” Alistair asked, aghast. “Do you really think this marriage is a good idea?”
 
“I do,” Aunn replied. “You guys can balance each other, you won’t have to worry about finding another spouse, and it’s the strongest argument to place before the Landsmeet. It’s for the good of Ferelden, really.”
 
“I am seriously starting to hate those words,” Alistair moaned. “All they ever do is get me into more trouble, it seems. But…fine. I’ll do it. I’ll marry Anora. Maker help me…”

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Thirty-One: The Landsmeet


Aunn had had difficulty sleeping that night, paradoxically both looking forward to and dreading the Landsmeet. It was easy to see why she was excited. She was going to get the opportunity to play an important role in determining the future of Ferelden and it was making her a little giddy. On the negative side, if she lost then she’d probably be killed. She didn’t think she would lose, though, especially after she’d stopped by to see Gorim and get a little pep talk. She had found a great deal at Howe’s estate and Anora was on her side. Then, of course, there was Alistair. He knew that she intended for him to become king and to marry Anora and he was willing to live with it. He did not know that she’d promised to try to find a way to save Loghain as a condition of Anora agreeing to the marriage. It was possible that there would be no such opportunity and he would never find out but she knew just how unlikely that was.
 
Everyone else had already left for the Landsmeet but Eamon had asked her and Alistair to arrive a little later so that they’d have a more dramatic entrance and so there would be time for other speeches before Loghain went after them. When they were almost at the Chamber, Aunn stopped suddenly.
 
“What’s wrong?” Alistair asked, concerned. As they’d talked about, Alistair was wearing Cailan’s armor. Wade had had to fix it up a little and had made it a bit sturdier than before so it wouldn’t be quite so useless in a fight but he still wasn’t happy with being called upon to don his brother’s armor. “You’re not getting cold feet now, are you? You’ll be fine. This can’t possibly be more complicated than whatever it is that happened in Orzammar.”
 
“Not more complicated, no,” Aunn agreed. “But this is a turning point, you know. One way or another, we won’t be on the run anymore.”
 
“That’s a good thing, right?” Alistair asked rhetorically. “I mean, I don’t know about you but the life of an outlaw is not for me.”
 
“Oh, it’s not for me, either,” Aunn clarified. “It’s just…everything’s going to change and we don’t know exactly how this is going to play out. In case I don’t get a chance to tell you this later-”
 
“Wait, why wouldn’t you get a chance to tell me this later?” Alistair interrupted. “We’re going to be fine. We’ll win this. We have to.”
 
“Probably,” Aunn concurred. “But I’d rather tell you this now and then have another chance later than not tell you and count on a ‘later’ that, for whatever reason, will never come.”
 
“I suppose that makes sense,” Alistair told her. “Alright, what do you want to say?”
 
“I know that our first meeting wasn’t exactly the best,” Aunn said delicately.
 
Alistair snorted. “That’s an understatement. I mispronounced your name, asked if you were a mage, and kept babbling because you wouldn’t stop staring. And then you said I looked like your evil brother.”
 
“Right,” Aunn agreed. “And we were kind of forced together after Ostagar but despite all of that and all of the problems we’ve had…I’m glad that you were here with me this past year.”
 
“Even if you wouldn’t let me into Orzammar?” Alistair asked, somewhat amused.
 
“Even then,” Aunn confirmed. “You’ve proven yourself a friend and I thank you for it.”
 
“I consider you a friend as well, Aunn,” Alistair told her earnestly. “Now that the mushy stuff is out of the way, let me remind you that we’ll be fine…unless we take so long entering that we miss the vote and Arl Eamon kills us.”
 
“Yes, that would be quite unfortunate, wouldn’t it?” Aunn asked rhetorically.
 
They kept moving but right as they reached the door to the Landsmeet, Ser Cauthrien stepped out from behind a pillar to meet them, her sword drawn. 
 
“I’m not surprised that it has come to this,” she said calmly. “And Alistair. If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?”
 
“It’s not our fault Eamon wanted us to come late,” Alistair muttered. “I should have known that Loghain would put you up to this.”
 
Aunn wondered if she should try to get the door open so that the Landsmeet could see what was happening. It would definitely hurt Loghain’s cause but Anora – if she were there – might view it as an attempt to sabotage her father’s chances to survive this Landsmeet. It was one thing to destroy someone with words but quite another to be caught attempting to assassinate your political opponents right outside the ruling body.
 
“My lord doesn’t know that I’m doing this, no,” Cauthrien conceded. “But I can really do no other. You may not understand what Loghain means to this country, Warden, and Alistair may not appreciate that without Loghain he wouldn’t have been born into freedom but I understand and I’m grateful. You’ve torn this nation apart opposing him but you will go no further. The Landsmeet will not be desecrated like that.”
 
“Oh no?” Aunn inquired. “How interesting that you blame us for the civil war. From what I understand, the Bannorn were the ones who refused to follow Denerim after Loghain appointed himself Anora’s regent without calling a Landsmeet. Whichever of the two you wish to declare the guilty party is no concern of mine but we weren’t even involved. And you want to talk about desecrating the Landsmeet? Murdering a man who is being put forth to take the throne not ten feet from the chamber door doesn’t strike you as desecration? I may not know much about your Surface customs, but I must say that that strikes me as a very Orlesian thing to do.”
 
Cauthrien drew back as if slapped. “How dare you! I’m trying to do what’s right!”
 
“Then you’re failing,” Alistair told her simply. “You say that Loghain was a great man once. I have a hard time believing that but enough people have told me so that I can entertain the idea. No matter what he once was, can’t you see what he’s become? Can’t you see that he as good as killed your king? Can’t you see that he’s seized power from your queen and desecrated Maric’s throne? Look at the civil war going on around us, at the slaving, at the poisoning and dirty politics…tell me, is this the Ferelden that Loghain worked so hard to save?”
 
For a moment, Aunn thought that Cauthrien was going to attack Alistair. She stepped forward, sword raised but then slumped back. “You say that with such... such righteousness. Loghain used to have that ring in his voice. I’ve had so many doubts as of late. Ever since Ostagar, everything’s gone so wrong. But what can I possibly do to set it right? Loghain is a great man but he’s always hated Orlais. Anyone who knows even the slightest bit about him or about the occupation cannot blame him for that but lately that’s all he’s been able to see. But…I owe him everything! Don’t ask me to betray him now.”
 
Alistair, who had winced slightly at being compared to even a younger Loghain, looked her in the eye. “Let us pass. Let the Landsmeet decide who is right or wrong in truly Ferelden manner it was meant to.”
 
Cauthrien closed her eyes. “I won’t stop you. I had never thought duty would taste so bitter. It would have been far better had I died at Ostagar than to live to see this day.” She fell to her knees suddenly. “Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved,” she pleaded. “But please…show him mercy if you can. He’s made mistakes but without him there would be no Ferelden to defend.”
 
Alistair clearly didn’t have the heart to tell her he had no such intention and Aunn couldn’t reassure her without tipping him off about her own. In silence, the pair made it into the Landsmeet chambers in time to hear Loghain clap mockingly and dismiss whatever Eamon had just said.
 
He spotted their entrance and called out to them dramatically. “Tell us, Warden: How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince?” Well, called out to her at any rate. He seemed determined to once again trivialize Alistair. “Where is the famous steadfastness of the dwarves? How much did it cost the empress to buy your loyalty?”
 
“I must confess, I haven’t the slightest clue,” Aunn replied evenly. Steadfast wouldn’t have been the word she would have picked to describe her people but it was a complimentary one. “Orlais and its secret plans are of no interest to me in the best of times and certainly not when we have a Blight to contend with.”
 
Bann Ceorlic, the only noble Aunn had encountered who seemed to actually care that Howe was dead (although even he couldn’t claim to be personally upset), laughed at that. “Oh yes, this ‘Blight.’ We’ve heard all about it over the past few weeks but I, for one, have dismissed such claims.”
 
Bann Alfstanna had been ever so grateful to her and infuriated at Howe upon receiving her brother’s ring earlier and hearing where he had been imprisoned and she leaned forward now. “I disagree. There are enough refugees in my Bannorn to make clear that there is a true Blight and that it must be our first concern.”
 
“The south has fallen, Loghain!” Arl Wulff, who had lost his sons and his Arling to the darkspawn, cried out. “Would you let them take all of Ferelden out of fear of Orlais?”
 
“The Blight is, indeed, real, Wulff,” Loghain admitted reluctantly.
 
Ceorlic frowned at that as his denial now seemed even more foolish.
 
“Do we really need Grey Wardens to fight it for us, though?” Loghain demanded. “They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?”
 
“I’m not going to argue about whether or not allowing those chevaliers into Ferelden would be a good idea,” Aunn responded. “As I said, you undoubtedly know more about Orlais and what they’re after than I do not to mention that there is precedence for a nation to help repel a Blight and then not leave.”
 
Loghain looked puzzled at the fact that she was seemingly agreeing with him.
 
“But that said, most of the Wardens in Ferelden are dead. The Wardens waiting at the border with all of those chevaliers do not speak for us here. There are three Wardens in Ferelden now. Myself, Alistair Theirin, and Riordan who is still anxious to help even though he was drugged upon first arriving in Denerim and imprisoned in Howe’s estate for months,” Aunn declared, helpfully gesturing to her fellow Wardens. “We do not require the chevaliers in order to fight. If it comes to it, we’ll fight without the Orlesian Wardens. Our goal is to end the Blight. We cannot do it alone and we never claimed to be able to. As for Ostagar…well, our order wasn’t the only one to fail there.”
 
“No,” Loghain allowed. “You weren’t. But my people weren’t the ones that goaded Cailan into making that charge. He believed in the tales of epic battles and heroes on griffons riding in to save everyone. He thought that your handful of men would turn the tide for him, strategy and consequence be damned!”
 
“Cailan made his choice to fight on the front lines,” Aunn pointed out. “Part of it was glory, but he also said that he was doing it for the morale. Duncan might have told him that his plan would work but what else was he supposed to say? Cailan was the king and it was he who decided when to fight. It was he who decided where. It was he who decided on the battle plan. I watched you tell him not to risk himself but he wouldn’t even listen to you so what makes you think that we could have stopped him? Duncan tried to caution him about the dangers but he had already made up his own mind. It seems that first we’re to be blamed for having too much influence over Cailan and then reproved for not having enough.”
 
“How very interesting that you brought up the late Arl Howe,” Loghain told her, apparently having nothing more to say about Ostagar. “While I cannot possibly be expected to know everyone he kept in his own personal dungeon, I’d like to point out that as the Grey Wardens are outlaws, it only makes sense that if one was discovered in Ferelden anyway – particularly one with such a pronounced Orlesian accent as your Riordan – then they would be imprisoned.”
 
“Imprisoned in Fort Drakon, maybe, but not in a personal dungeon,” Aunn argued. “If you, the regent, cannot be sure of who was and was not there then how can anyone else be? He would have been there indefinitely and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”
 
“Imprisoned in Fort Drakon…isn’t that the very place you were imprisoned temporarily yesterday before you broke out after you admitted to murdering Arl Howe in his own home?” Loghain challenged.
 
“It was,” Aunn admitted. “But I had to make it here and it didn’t look like you’d have time to stop by and see me until after this was over. Killing Howe may not have been strictly legal but the minute he saw us he attacked so it wasn’t like it was murder or at all unprovoked.”
 
“No, I’m sure that attacking a group of armed outlaws is completely overreacting,” Loghain deadpanned. “Why were you even in Howe’s estate at all if not to kill him?”
 
Now, Aunn could choose to bring up Anora now. The problem was, she had said that she’d make her entrance when she had been mentioned by name and Aunn was sure that once she did, the focus of the argument would shift to her and she wasn’t ready for that yet. It looked like it was time for a little lie, then. “I had heard a rumor that Bann Sighard’s missing son was imprisoned at Howe’s estate. The informant had no way of proving this, naturally, but the nature of the accusation was too serious not to investigate. We snuck in and didn’t kill anyone we didn’t have to, most of whom were in one of the two torture chambers. We found young Lord Oswyn nearly naked and strapped to a rack. He claimed that he’d been drugged and imprisoned there ever since the day after hearing one of your men at Ostagar – who has also since disappeared – say that you left the field before Cailan died. That charge can’t be proven, of course, but it was an inflammatory one.”
 
“The Warden speaks truly!” Bann Sighard stood up to declare. “My son, missing these past six months, returned to me only yesterday full of tales of the horrors he’d seen done in Howe’s dungeon. Howe, who was the right hand man to Loghain who until seeing Oswyn I had wholeheartedly supported! Some of the things done to my son can never be healed. He cannot even raise his arms past a certain point or walk without a heavy limp! If this is the sort of treatment that his own allies get, what can his enemies expect? And if he is willing to do this to the nobility, how will the commoners fair?”
 
There was a lot of murmuring about that. Nobles never appreciated it when one of their own was attacked like that.
 
Aunn decided to press her advantage. “And Lord Oswyn and Riordan weren’t the only ones he found in Howe’s dungeon. The Chantry has been looking for their missing templars Rexel and Irminric for quite some time. For those that aren’t aware, Rexel was one of the few survivors of Ostagar who apparently also said too much and poor Irminric is the brother of Bann Alfstanna. Rexel was driven mad by lyrium withdrawal and torture but though Irminric was in bad shape, he can hopefully make at least a partial recovery.”
 
“And those are not the only two noble families that he wronged,” Anastasia Cousland declared. Several of the nobles who hadn’t seen her looked shocked to see that she still lived. “Arl Howe was a guest in my father’s home and he waited until Highever’s forces were headed to Ostagar with my brother before he revealed himself to be a traitorous snake who slaughtered everyone in the castle indiscriminately. He killed all of the servants and all of the few knights that remained at Highever. He killed our Revered Mother. He killed my eight-year-old nephew and my pregnant sister-in-law. My mortally wounded father forced me to flee while my mother chose to stay at his side and try to give me some more time. I don’t even know what Howe did to them before he killed him. Now, I’m not claiming that Loghain knew this attack was coming. But once he knew he passed judgment on that cowardly assault on a castle that had welcomed him as a friend. And how did he respond to Howe’s actions? He took Highever and gave it to Howe and then made him the Arl of Denerim!”
 
There was a lot more murmurings now. Anastasia’s speech had had its desired effect.
 
Loghain waited until it quieted down to answer her charges. “Whatever Howe may have done – and it sounds like he’s done a lot – dispensing justice was not this Warden’s right. He should have been brought before a seneschal and being butchered in his home was not justice any more than the Couslands being butchered in their home was.”
 
“Where was the justice in selling the elves into slavery?” Aunn countered. It felt bizarre to have the moral high ground for once. “I’d been led to believe that one of the things that makes this nation great was its commitment to freedom. The peasants are not serfs tied to the land, the common people are not legally forced to submit to whichever member of an elite military group wants to sleep with them, and the elves are not free to be shipped off to the Tevinter to fund your little war.”
 
“What is this?” Sighard demanded. “The Warden is right again. There is no slavery in Ferelden! Explain yourself.”
 
Loghain sighed wearily. “There is no saving the Alienage. It has been under lockdown for months and only recently reopened. Damage from the riots have yet to repaired and bodies, some killed from an infectious plague, lie rotting in the streets. It is not a place that I would send even my worst enemy. If the Blight comes to Denerim, it cannot be defended. If the elves were to be lost anyway, I wanted to make that loss count for something instead of just being another meaningless tragedy. We needed the money, the elves won’t be taken by the darkspawn…it’s not an idea solution but when is it ever? Judge if you must but I have done my duty.”
 
“I wasn’t the one to go down to the Alienage and so I can’t say if your claim that it cannot be salvaged is true,” Aunn remarked. “But if that’s the case then let me remind you that it was Arl Howe who led the weeks-long purge of the Alienage that made it so unsalvageable in the first place!”
 
“Howe did what he did because the riots wouldn’t stop,” Loghain insisted. “And because the previous inhabitant of the estate had been murdered by elves from the Alienage.”
 
“There was one final prisoner I found in Howe’s dungeon that I’ve yet to mention,” Aunn announced. “An elf by the name of Soris who had been locked up since before Howe even took over but who he was content to let rot down there forever.”
 
“I believe I know of this elf you’re speaking of,” Loghain said slowly. “He might have been down there for awhile and there may have even been no plans to do anything with him but he was one of the two elves who broke into that very estate to murder Bann Vaughan before Ostagar!”
 
“He did,” Aunn agreed. “And that was hardly legal but he and his cousin, the one who actually killed Vaughan and was killed for it, didn’t do it because they hated ‘shems’ or wanted to rob the place. Vaughan had kidnapped every woman in a bridal party at the wedding ceremony with the intention of raping and possibly killing them. Ahria was one of the ones abducted. She just wanted to get out and free the others. By the time she and Soris killed Vaughan, one woman was dead and another raped. Vaughan may have been a noble but that strikes me as very…Orlesian.”
 
“Mother Boann has confirmed the bridal party abduction,” the Revered Mother announced. “And that Vaughan spoke of sexually assaulting those women.”
 
“So let’s summarize what happened,” Aunn said, clapping her hands together. “You sold Ferelden citizens into slavery because the Alienage can’t be salvaged. The Alienage can’t be salvaged before of the excessive purging Howe orchestrated when he came to Denerim. The purges happened because of the death of Bann Vaughan at the hands of two Alienage elves. Bann Vaughan died because two elves were unwilling to just sit by and watch Vaughan rape them and their fellows. By the Ancestors, truly what happened in the Alienage is a monument to justice.”
 
“You’ve made your point,” Loghain ground out. “The Alienage got a raw deal. But what happened with Vaughan happened before Ostagar and what happened afterwards was solely Howe’s responsibility as the Alienage fell under his jurisdiction. Things should not have happened as they did but since that was how they played out, I stand by my decision to try and make some small part of it worth something.”
 
“Maybe Howe’s actions are not directly your responsibility,” Aunn conceded. “Although you did keep rewarding him for it so way to go with the positive reinforcement, I’m sure he was really getting the picture that you didn’t approve. What about your own not-so-moral actions? What about you sending a blood mage, of all people, to poison Arl Eamon in his home and that set off a chain of events that nearly destroyed Redcliffe?”
 
“I neither know nor care who Eamon has offended enough to warrant assassination attempts,” Loghain said scornfully. “Just because we are on opposite sides of this conflict does not mean I’m automatically to blame for every misfortune that befalls him. And I assure you, Warden, that if I were going to send someone to poison him I would have sent one of my own people and not trusted the task to an incompetent apostate.”

“Is that so?” Alfstanna asked archly. “My brother – who, if you don’t recall, is a templar being imprisoned in Howe’s dungeon until yesterday – tells a very different story. He says that he was sent after a blood mage and then, just as he had cornered him, your people swooped in to save him from the Chantry’s justice. Coincidence?”
 
“Swooping is bad,” Aunn agreed. She heard Alistair snort at that. Oh, they had come such a long time since he’d said that upon first meeting Morrigan.
 
“Do not think that the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain,” the Revered Mother said severely. “Interference is a templar’s sacred duties is an offense against the Maker himself!”
 
“Whatever I have done, I will answer for later,” Loghain declared. “At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter.”
 
Aunn said nothing.
 
Emboldened, Loghain pressed forward. “You took my daughter--our queen--by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?”
 
Still, Aunn kept silent, trusting Anora to recognize that there would be no better moment than this to reveal herself.
 
Sure enough, Anora’s clear voice rang out from behind Loghain where she had just slipped through the door. “I believe I can speak for myself.”
 
There was a stunned silence for a moment before hurried whispers broke out. Anora, clearly enjoying all of the attention, waited until the voices had died down before making her speech. Aunn hoped fervently that she was going to live up to her end of the bargain. She had thought that Anora would but she wouldn’t be sure until the queen actually began to speak.
 
“Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me,” Anora implored while still managing to give off a very regal air. Pain shone in her eyes, probably intentionally, but her voice was clear and strong. “My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden.”
 
“The queen speaks the truth,” Aunn declared, feeling that she should add some support to Anora’s version of events even if what she said had been a little less than accurate. While she suspected that Alistair might actually believe that Loghain literally ‘refused to protect’ Cailan, Aunn rather thought it was more about trying to save his own troops and give Ferelden a chance to defend against…well, what should have been the Blight but Loghain thought was the Orlesian threat and that turned out to be troops from the Bannorn. Howe had locked her away while Loghain might not even have known about it or he wouldn’t have brought Anora up at all as who would have bothered to kill such a high-profile prisoner and then hide the crime? And she still really doubted whether Anora’s life was actually in any immediate danger although she supposed it was possible.
 
Loghain looked disappointed. “So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora? I wanted to protect you from this.” Aunn couldn’t help but be a little sad at this turn of events, useful though it was. She hated it when politics turned family members against one another. Loghain shook himself. “My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldens have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself.”
 
It looked like Loghain was calling for a vote now. One way or another, Ferelden was about to be united. Eamon had warned her what to expect the night before. Landsmeet votes were usually accepted but when the losing candidate faced death – like they did – or was particularly…passionate like Loghain then a fight might break out. Eventually, if the results of the vote were not accepted, it would come down to a duel and whoever won that might as well have won the vote as there were no more ways to appeal the decision. Aunn held her breath.
 
“South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens,” Arl Bryland, the cousin Anastasia had been staying with, declared.
 
“Highever supports the Grey Wardens,” Anastasia announced, looking around as if daring anybody to tell her that she couldn’t speak for Highever. No one did.
 
“The Warden helped me personally in a… family matter,” one of the nobles said delicately. Aunn made sure not to let her confusion show on her face. It would seem one of her companions had quite a story to tell.
 
“Waking Sea stands with the Grey Warden!” Alfstanna exclaimed.
 
“Dragon's Peak supports the Warden!” Sighard cried out.
 
“The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us,” Wulff said gruffly in a touching show of support.
 
It was Ceorlic’s turn next and Aunn knew before he even opened his mouth that he was going to break the string of votes in her favor. “Well, I stand by Loghain! We've no hope of victory otherwise.” Frankly, he didn’t sound like he had much hope of victory regardless.
 
“I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!” a noble Aunn didn’t recognize said urgently.
 
And then it was over. Everyone but Ceorlic had sided with her. She knew she had spoken well at the Landsmeet and had plenty of evidence to support her but she hadn’t thought they’d be that convinced. She felt a little bad for Loghain. He’d given a very stirring mini-speech about how they could win if everyone just stood with him…and then only one person had. At least Loghain had had that. It would be even more embarrassing and pathetic if no one had. The only question that remained was whether or not Loghain would accept the vote.
 
Aunn glanced over at the now former regent. If the murderous look on his face was any indication, he was not about to just go along with it. “Traitors!” he hissed. “Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!” With that, Loghain raised his hand and soldiers spilled into the room.
 
Since it was just eventually going to end in a duel anyway, Aunn spoke up to try and avoid an unnecessary brawl in the Landsmeet chambers. “Call off your men and we'll settle this honorably.”
 
Loghain appeared to consider her suggestion for a moment before he nodded. “Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this. When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else.”
 
Aunn couldn’t help but nod as well. Ostagar was ages and ages ago. Ostagar was before she had found out what happened to Gorim, before she had even really liked any Surfacer, before she had had to decide the fate of her people, before she had ever made a decision she felt to be wrong, before she had ever had to make the decision to betray a close friend, before she had become a Kinslayer…
 
“ ‘A man is made by the quality of his enemies’,” Loghain continued quietly. “That’s what Maric told me the day I left my first battlefield, knowing I could never be the same. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel.”
 
Alfstanna was apparently their spokesperson. “It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.”
 
“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?” Loghain inquired.
 
“I’ll face you myself,” Aunn decided. The only champion she could possibly use was Alistair and there was no guarantee that if she let those two go at it with a sword one or both of them would wind up dead and was she really going to ask Anora to marry her father’s murderer? Using anyone but Alistair would seem…almost dismissive. They didn’t really matter here so much as she and Alistair did and if Loghain was going to fight her himself then she would return that favor.
 
Loghain nodded as if he’d expected that. “It is you or me the men will follow,” he said almost conversationally. “So let us fight for it. Prepare yourself.”
 
Aunn stood still and after a moment, Loghain lunged at her. Fortunately, she was faster than him and a much smaller target so she was able to dart around and occasionally strike at him while he had much less luck hitting her. Eventually, she knocked his legs out from under him and hit him over the head with her sword, leaving him rather disoriented.
 
“I underestimated you, Warden,” Loghain admitted, climbing to his feet. “I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong. There's a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died. I yield.”
 
It was a bit strange to think that Loghain would have changed his mind about her after all this time just because she happened to best him in single combat even if she had just given him a head injury. Was that the reason, though? Or had she been slowly changing his mind but only now at the end was he willing to admit it?
 
There was only one thing to say to that. “I accept your surrender.” Now what?
 
Alistair, as it happened, didn’t think things were nearly so clear-cut. “Tell me I didn’t just hear you say that,” he said incredulously. “After everything he’s done? You’ve spent the past half an hour explaining what a horrible person he is! Why not just kill him already? Or let me.”
 
“Wait!” Riordan quickly interjected, quickly making his way to where they were standing. Anora and Eamon appeared to be making their way down to them as well. “There is another option. The Teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining.”
 
Aunn glanced over at Alistair pointedly.
 
“What? Because of the…? No, not worth it. Not worth it at all. I’ll gladly be the one to do it, we don’t need him,” Alistair argued. “Being a Grey Warden is supposed to be an honor, not a punishment! And even when you only joined to partially fulfill a sentence you had, you ended up being innocent of it and we all know that Loghain isn’t!”
 
“This isn’t a question of morality, Alistair,” Aunn said softly. “It’s a question of need and we need more than three Wardens.”
 
“Well you won’t get more,” Alistair said stubbornly. “If you make Loghain a Warden then I’m out. I won’t stand next to that man as a brother. I can’t.”
 
“He's being childish,” Anora complained. She didn’t look particularly surprised though, probably because she’d been warned Alistair wouldn’t take the idea well. “How many generals do you think Ferelden has? We can't afford to lose any of them to Alistair's tantrums if we want to survive the Blight.”
 
“Oh, but we could afford to lose a king?” Alistair challenged. “And the entire army that was abandoned at Ostagar? Whose tantrums cost us all that, I wonder?”
 
“The difference is, Alistair, that Cailan and his army are long dead,” Anora countered. “Killing my father won’t bring them back. My father isn’t dead. We can still salvage a general.”
 
“Wonderful,” Alistair said brightly. “And we can lose another army. How many of those do you think Ferelden has?”
 
“Loghain will become a Warden,” Aunn said firmly. “If that means that we’re going to lose Alistair then so be it. It’s probably for the best that the new king isn’t risking himself needlessly, anyway. If nothing else, Cailan reminded us of the importance of that.”
 
“Ah, you’re talking about my planned marriage to Anora,” Alistair said bitterly. “I can see everything’s working out just the way you want it to.”
 
Aunn said nothing. What was there to say? She’d speak to him privately about this. She didn’t ever think he’d accept it for as long as Loghain lived but maybe he could at least try to understand that she wasn’t doing this because she was suddenly evil.
 
With that, Anora promptly took control of the situation. “And now, lords and ladies of Ferelden. There is still a Blight to defeat and armies to gather, and I appoint this woman to lead us in both. We will not allow this land to be further threatened by the Archdemon. Gather your forces and await the Warden's command. On the morrow, we shall begin our struggle against the greatest threat Ferelden has ever faced. And we shall triumph over it, for we are Ferelden!”
 
There was a huge roar of approval. They’d come through this in one piece. They’d won. Why did it never feel like a victory?




Alistair hadn’t come back to Eamon’s estate with their group but had instead stayed with Eamon and Anora while Riordan had gone off with Loghain to undertake the Joining. Aunn wondered if Loghain would survive the process and, if not, that would calm Alistair down any. She kind of doubted it as she had still decided to make him a Warden and even if he’d likely view Loghain’s death anyway as him proving unworthy of being a Warden, he’d have still gone through the Joining which he seemed to think was far more of an honor than she remembered it being.
 
“I can’t believe you did that,” Wynne practically spat the minute they had gathered in a room back at Eamon’s estate. “That boy trusted you and you betrayed him so utterly!”
 
“I hardly betrayed him, Wynne,” Aunn said tiredly. “I made him king. It’s safer for him not to be on the front lines and he’s the one who actually decided to withdraw from the Wardens over it.”
 
“With what Loghain did, both at Ostagar and afterwards, who can blame him?” Wynne demanded. “I myself am sickened at the prospect of being expected to serve with him.”
 
“If you wish to leave as well, you’re certainly welcome to do so,” Aunn offered. “The other mages are at Redcliffe and you can join them there.”
 
“I would but I’d rather keep my eye on our former regent,” Wynne announced. “Besides, I gave Alistair my word that I would stay and see this through with the Wardens until the end and even if he is no longer one of you, I think my oath is still valid.”
 
“Complain away then,” Aunn told her. “It’s not like I’m any more thrilled that Alistair is gone than you are. But just so we can get this all out into the open, does anybody else here have a problem with Loghain’s presence should he survive becoming a Warden?”
 
Zevran shrugged. “Not particularly. At least this way I’ll get a chance to inform him, in person, that my assassination attempt on you failed.”
 
Aunn couldn’t help but grin. “I think he’s gathered that, actually, but your professionalism is admirable.”
 
“I am curious about this Loghain,” Shale confided. “He must know that he could have won hiss battle if he had just slain that woman Anora and yet it did not. I am most interested in asking him about that.”
 
“I was not aware that it was the custom of humans to recruit defeated opponents,” Sten declared. “It gives me hope for your species.”
 
“While I am saddened to see Alistair leave us, he will have a good future and make life better for people,” Leliana opined. “And I am actually looking forward to speaking to the Teyrn about Maric and the rebellion. Oh, think of the stories he must have!”
 
“I’d be careful approaching him,” Aunn cautioned. “You have an Orlesian accent, after all, and he seems to be rather…wary of Orlesians.”
 
“I can be very persuasive,” Leliana assured her.
 
Morrigan actually laughed. “What? You think I’d actually miss Alistair? I’m sure that this Loghain, no matter how surly or unpleasant he turns out to be, will be a vast improvement over Alistair.”
 
Wynne glared disapprovingly at her but Morrigan ignored her.
 
“Just so long as he doesn’t start thinking that he belongs here or touches my ale, we should get along just fine,” Oghren announced. Aunn wondered vaguely what his problem with Loghain was. She hadn’t thought he and Alistair had been particularly close and he hadn’t spent very much time on the Surface to really absorb much anti-Loghain sentiment.
 
The door opened suddenly and everyone turned to see Anora standing at the door. “So it's done. My father lives, and, for good or ill, he is now a Grey Warden. Aunn, might I speak to you privately for a moment?”
 
Aunn nodded. “Of course.” She followed Anora outside of the room.
 
“I would like to thank you for not killing my father when you had the chance to,” Anora said softly. “You weren’t exaggerating about Alistair reacting badly.”
 
“I was just honoring our agreement,” Aunn insisted. “You don’t need to thank me.”
 
“I do, actually,” Anora disagree. “Once my father refused to accept the vote and it came down to a duel, you could have killed him before Riordan could so much as speak up, let alone tell you that you could make him a Warden. You could have let Alistair duel him and then I know he’d be dead by now. So thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Aunn said simply. “How is Alistair?”
 
Anora sighed in mild exasperation. “My lucky betrothed is upstairs sulking. He is so much like Cailan sometimes that it’s ridiculous. In fact, if his hair were a little lighter and longer, they could be twins.”
 
“I should talk to him,” Aunn said resignedly.
 
“I’m not sure he’d be very receptive to that,” Anora warned her.
 
“Probably not,” Aunn agreed. “But if I don’t talk to him, it will just make this worse.”




Alistair briefly glanced over at Aunn when she entered the room before turning away again and studiously ignoring her.
 
“Alistair,” Aunn began. No response. “Alistair.”
 
Alistair finally deigned to face her. “Did you want something?” he asked coldly.
 
Well, that wasn’t exactly a friendly reception. “We need to talk.”
 
“Do we?” Alistair asked, looking almost indifferent. “I doubt it.”
 
“Don’t do this, Alistair,” Aunn pleaded.
 
“Don’t do what?” Alistair asked bitterly. “Don’t induct Duncan’s murderer and the man who ahs tried to kill us for a year now into the Grey Wardens? Oh, wait. I didn’t do that. You did.”
 
“Whatever it takes, right?” Aunn asked rhetorically. “That’s the Grey Wardens’ philosophy. Even if Loghain did lead to Duncan’s death, I can’t see why he’d have any sort of moral problem with this.”
 
“It wasn’t necessary!” Alistair argued fiercely. “You had three Wardens before and you have three Wardens now…if Loghain survives the Joining which is no guarantee. I’m also a lot younger and a more experienced Warden with less of a history of treason to my name. And it’s not like he’s ever going to be serving as a general! I don’t know how Duncan would have felt about any of this because Loghain killed him but I have a moral problem with all of it.”
 
Clearly no one had told Alistair that Loghain had indeed survived the Joining. Aunn really couldn’t blame then and it wasn’t like she was planning on doing so. He’d find out soon enough. “And I’m sorry for that,” she said earnestly. “But you see, it really was necessary.”
 
Alistair barked out a harsh laugh. “It was necessary? How do you figure that one?”
 
“Anora insisted that if she agreed to marry you then I would need to spare her father if there was a reasonable option to,” Aunn explained. “And Riordan provided that option that she was looking for.”
 
Alistair stared at her. “Unbelievable. Why couldn’t you just put one of us on the throne alone? I would have gladly given up the chance to be king in order to see justice was done!”
 
“You don’t get it,” Aunn said, frustrated. “If I had to pick just one ruler then I would have been morally obligated to pick Anora, if only because she’s already a good queen and you’ll need time to become a good king even should you end up becoming a better ruler in the end.”
 
“And I already said that that would have been fine,” Alistair countered. “If you had just talked to me about it, I would have you told you this!”
 
“And say that I had done that, Alistair,” Aunn said, her eyes flashing. “Just what do you think would have happened to you?”
 
Alistair blinked, confused. “I…wouldn’t have been king. I probably would have needed to swear fealty to Anora and maybe included any future heirs I might have in there.”
 
“Wrong,” Aunn said softly. She almost didn’t want to tell him but he was king now and so he couldn’t afford to be naïve about just what he was getting himself into. “Anora couldn’t have afforded to risk it.”
 
“Couldn’t afford to risk what?” Alistair demanded angrily. “That I’d still try to steal her precious throne?”
 
“A little of that, yes,” Aunn agreed. “But you wouldn’t even need to. Any dissatisfaction that people had with Anora’s rule would risk a rebellion and people would use your name to add legitimacy to it.”
 
“What are you saying?” Alistair asked point-blank.
 
“I’m saying that Anora would have had you executed,” Aunn answered bluntly. “I’m saying that I would have understood why. I’m saying that I would have had to watch it happen. If I could avoid that and gain another Warden out of a man whose death I wasn’t even really seeking in the first place then why wouldn’t I?”
 
“You did it to save me?” Alistair asked, stunned. “I can’t believe you, I really can’t. I WOULD GLADLY HAVE DIED TO SEE JUSTICE SERVED!” He shook his head disgustedly. “I can’t even be in the same room as you right now.” With that he stormed towards the door, stopping just before he reached it. Without turning around, he said slowly, “You’ve still got a Blight to stop, you know. For what it’s worth, I hope you succeed.”
 
And then he was gone and Aunn knew that, no matter how things turned out, he’d never truly be back.

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Blight


The first night that they camped after leaving for Redcliffe, Aunn was idly toying with Alistair’s rose when Loghain approached her. She suspected that Morrigan had done something to preserve it as Alistair had picked it long before they had met Wynne and the only other alternative – that it really was the Maker’s rose – was absurd. Morrigan would never admit to it, though, so even if she had done it there was really no point in asking. Loghain hadn’t said so much as a single word to Aunn since he had conceded the Landsmeet duel and had made himself quite scarce while staying at Eamon’s estate. All things considered, it was hardly surprising.
 
She hadn’t been easy to find right before they had left either and when she’d finally shown up her highly irate party looked nearly mutinous. She’d gone to see Gorim one last time before leaving the city and found him smiling and laughing with a very pretty though heavily pregnant dwarven woman who she overheard him calling Belgret. So. This was the wife. It was a little odd at just how different that she looked from Aunn. Some differences were expected, of course, but it was like Belgret was her polar opposite in looks. Where Aunn had long blonde hair, Aeducan blue eyes, and fair skin even now with so much time spent out in the sun, Belgret had medium length dark hair that she worn down, warm and open brown eyes, and deeply tanned skin. Upon realizing that Aunn was there, Belgret immediately volunteered to clear off so that they could talk but there wasn’t really much that she had to say. She just informed the pair that she was leaving for Redcliffe where the horde was predicted to be heading but cautioned that they should be ready in case they were wrong. Gorim had seemed happy. That was good.
 
“Warden,” Loghain began, jolting Aunn out of her thoughts.
 
“Please, call me Aunn,” Aunn entreated. “Especially as you’re a Warden as well.”
 
A mildly surprised look crossed Loghain’s face. “So I am, at that. How easy it is to forget. Aunn, then. Tell me, why did you spare my life?”
 
Oh, not this again. Honestly, who hadn’t asked that by this point. Still, she supposed Loghain had more reason to want to know than most. “Anora asked me to.”
 
“I can see how she might want me to live despite how that might hurt her politically,” Loghain allowed. “But my daughter was fighting to hold onto her throne. She was hardly in a position to be making demands.”
 
“Would it surprise you that she did anyway?” Aunn asked him.
 
“Well, no,” Loghain admitted. “That does sound like Anora. The question is, why did you let her?”
 
“She would have killed Alistair had he not been on the throne with her,” Aunn explained. “And she wouldn’t marry him without me at least trying to spare you.”
 
“I honestly can’t believe I’m about to say this but…the obvious solution for you would seem to be putting him alone on the throne then,” Loghain told her.
 
“Anora seems like a good queen,” Aunn responded. “There was never any question of whether or not I was going to support her from the moment she first proposed an alliance. Besides, while Alistair might have had issues, I don’t happen to think that you’re a monster.”
 
“You don’t?” Loghain asked, raising an eyebrow. “I must say, that’s a surprise particularly given what you said at the Landsmeet.”
 
Aunn shrugged. “I said what I had to say to win. And while I wouldn’t call any of what you did even remotely moral, I can’t deny that I’ve seen worse. A lot worse. Unless I want to call a great many of the people I know monsters, you’re not going to hear that particular appellation from me.”
 
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of a more fitting one soon,” Loghain remarked wryly. “But thank you. So we have yet to talk and we might as well. What do you want from me?”
 
“Does this mean that I’ve convinced you that I genuinely have Ferelden’s best interests in mind?” Aunn inquired curiously.
 
Loghain thought for a moment before nodding. “Strangely, you have. Not as much as you have Orzammar’s best interests in mind but I don’t think that a day will come when the dwarves wish to invade the surface for quite some time.”
 
“We have to work together now, you know,” Aunn pointed out. “And we have to end this Blight.”
 
“An end to the Blight,” Loghain said wistfully. “Wouldn’t that be something? All of this complication can rightly be called my fault. If things had been different, we might not be losing our country to these darkspawn. Still, if you can make it end then I will follow you. I swear it.”
 
“That’s good to hear,” Aunn said sincerely. “And I’m glad to know how invested you are to ending it because there’s a very good chance you might be the one called upon to do so.”
 
Loghain frowned. “What do you mean?”
 
“This is a Grey Warden secret that Alistair and I were only made aware of shortly before the Landsmeet,” Aunn informed him. “And, I’ll admit, another reason I spared you. There’s little point in saving Alistair from execution and making him king if he’s just going to die before his coronation. Grey Wardens are basically high-functioning ghouls, you know. We’re tainted like the darkspawn and you remember earlier when you were asking why we claimed that only we can end the Blight? That’s why. While the Archdemon can physically be killed by anyone, unless a Grey Warden does it then the soul of the old god will possess a soulless darkspawn and be reborn. If one of us kills it, the soul will travel into us and kill us both.”
 
“So either you or I will have to die to end the Blight,” Loghain said gravely. “I wish I had known.”
 
“Or Riordan,” Aunn reminded him. “He’s volunteered to do so but if for some reason he can’t it will fall to us.”
 
“If Riordan fails, let me do it,” Loghain requested.
 
Aunn blinked. “I hadn’t exactly expected you to volunteer.”
 
“And why not?” Loghain challenged. “Maker knows, I have enough to atone for. I’ve spent my life in service to my country, trying to protect it. This last year, I made so many mistakes and even now saving Ferelden is hardly a guarantee. I can think of no better death than to die in service of my country.”
 
“I can’t imagine Anora would be pleased to hear you’re so eager to throw away the life she managed to save for you,” Aunn remarked.
 
“Perhaps not,” Loghain agreed. “But as you’ve surely seen by now, Anora has always been a very practical child. She’ll get through it and she’ll find a way to turn it to her political advantage, mark my words. And she’s always been a soldier’s daughter which means always knowing that this day could come.”
 
“Very well,” Aunn consented. “If, for whatever reason, Riordan is dead and the two of us are standing over the nearly-dead Archdemon then I’ll let you be the one to take the final blow.”
 
“You sound so very cut up about that,” Loghain said dryly.
 
“I’m actually looking to survive this,” Aunn replied. “For me, this all started with a death sentence that may yet be repealed and it just seems kind of like a waste to beat the odds and come this far only to die in the final battle. Of course, I will if I have to but don’t ask me to be thrilled about it.”
 
“So this was a death sentence for you as well?” Loghain mused. “How very interesting.”




The sun was setting when they got to Redcliffe. They found that the village was under attack by the darkspawn but fortunately the sole person they happened across mentioned that the village had been evacuated hours earlier and he’d only been caught out because he’d gone back for something. They had had to fight their way through wave after wave of darkspawn to get to the castle. All in all, it seemed like maybe the Blight had come to Redcliffe like it was supposed to. But it hadn’t.
 
“Good, you’re here,” Eamon greeted them. “Riordan has just returned from spying on the horde and it seems that they aren’t heading to Redcliffe after all.”
 
“Where are they headed? Aunn asked, not particularly surprised. What were the odds that the horde would attack a place like Redcliffe where the armies just happened to be gathering when instead they could attack…anywhere else?
 
“Denerim,” Riordan revealed. “They should reach the city in two days.”
 
“How sure are you of this information?” Anora demanded. Alistair was nowhere in sight.
 
“Very,” Riordan replied. “I overheard the Archdemon giving orders, so to speak?”
 
“Does this mean that the Archdemon has finally revealed itself?” Aunn asked, both pleased and horrified. On the one hand, the Blight could not be defeated without taking out the Archdemon. On the other, the presence of the Archdemon was never going to be a good thing. Kardol had told her that some of his men had spotted it in the Deep Roads awhile back but she hadn’t seen any sign of it.

Riordan nodded gravely. “Yes. Regardless of whether we manage to save Denerim or not, we can end the Blight.” He shot her and Loghain a significant look.
 
“We’ve sent word to Denerim,” Anora announced. “But there’s no way the armies can reach the city in two days. We’ll have to trust that the forces already there can evacuate the people and try to hold off the horde until we get there. When will we be able to set out?”
 
“We can set off by daybreak, your majesty,” Eamon replied.
 
“Excellent. At daybreak, then,” Anora said decisively. “I’d advise everyone to turn in early tonight because we’ve got a long couple of days ahead of us.”
 
With that, the meeting broke up. Loghain went to go speak with his daughter and Aunn spotted Angélique enthusiastically gesturing her over. First Enchanter Irving was at her side.
 
“So guess what!” Angélique exclaimed. “I’m totally going to go to Denerim and fight the Blight! Caunira was supposed to go too but she didn’t seem to like that plan so she’s in charge of helping Dagna adjust to life at the Tower.”
 
“Oh, so Dagna got there okay?” Aunn asked.
 
Irving nodded. “She did indeed. Her enthusiasm was a little out of place when she first got there but she hasn’t let anything dampen her spirits and she’s really starting to bring life back to the Tower.”
 
“And still no word from Jowan?” Aunn inquired.
 
Irving shook his head. “None. I would have almost expected to even without his phylactery given his propensity for getting himself involved in situations that spiral disastrously out of control but we’ve heard nothing. Either Jowan’s learned how to lay low or all the chaos surrounding the Blight and the civil war is disguising his actions. We didn’t even know he was at Redcliffe until you called on us to save Connor.”
 
Aunn started as she heard something unsettling. “If you’ll excuse me…” she said before heading over to where the representatives of the dwarven forces were. “I’m sorry, but did you say that there a problem with the troops?”
 
“Nothing all that unexpected,” the commander told her with a sigh. “House Klaret and House Rumold are feuding again and so they’re claiming that they need their warriors for self-defense, completely ignoring the fact that they’d be just as safe – if not safer – if they both just sent the sodding troops.”
 
“King Harrowmont couldn’t convince them, I take it?” Aunn asked, not terribly surprised. When a man made it clear that he wasn’t even going to try to be a strong leader, chances were that he was not going to end up being a strong leader.
 
The commander snorted. “King Harrowmont’s got his hands full putting down your brother’s rebellion. You’re lucky he managed to send as many troops as he did.”
 
It was remarkable how everywhere she looked there was yet more evidence that she probably should have made a different decision. Of course, if she had the power to do it again she had no idea whether or not she actually would.




By the time Aunn finally made her way to her room for the night, she found Morrigan lying on her bed and reading a book. As the book in question was a written copy of the Chant of Light, it was clear that Morrigan had been waiting for her for quite some time and had just gotten desperately bored. When she noticed that Aunn had come in, she quickly tossed the book aside and stood up.
 
“Do not be alarmed, it is only I,” Morrigan announced.
 
Aunn snorted. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. Actually, your source of reading material gave me more pause than your presence here.”
 
Morrigan chose to ignore that. “I know that you’re going to be facing the Archdemon soon. I know what happens to the Grey Warden who kills it. I know that that Grey Warden might be you.”
 
Aunn frowned. “How did you hear that? I rather got the impression that the Grey Wardens were a suspicious and secretive bunch. I mean, Jory died because he knew a little about how the Joining was prepared and didn’t want to undertake it so I can’t imagine they’d willingly part with something like that.”
 
“Chances are, they didn’t,” Morrigan agreed. “But is how I know really all that relevant?”
 
Aunn thought about it for a moment. “No, I guess not,” she conceded. “But if you’ve known all this time then why not mention it earlier? I didn’t find out until the day before the Landsmeet.”
 
“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Morrigan responded.
 
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” Aunn asked.
 
“Would you believe me if I told you that in the past, Grey Wardens have worked with a talking darkspawn to-” Morrigan began.
 
“No,” Aunn interrupted.
 
Morrigan glared at her. “Let me finish. Grey Wardens have worked with a talking darkspawn to turn everyone in Thedas into tainted beings in exchange for tracking down and killing the Archdemons before they awaken?”
 
Aunn stared at her. “I already said no but I’m going to have to say now that that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t believe a word of it, mostly because I don’t have enough faith in the Grey Wardens or people in general to be willing to lose some of it by accepting that as truth.”
 
“I rest my case,” Morrigan said smugly.
 
“Fine, fine,” Aunn said, rolling her eyes. “Is there a point to this or do you just want to remind me that I could die soon?”
 
“I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to and that another Warden won’t either,” Morrigan explained. “In the form of a…ritual performed ideally on the eve of battle but as long as the battle takes place within the next month then it should still be workable.”
 
“A ritual?” Aunn asked, intrigued. “What kind of ritual?”
 
“It’s an ancient ritual from back before the Circle was ever even dreamed of and that could, I suppose, be classified as ‘blood magic’ although you’ve given me no reason to suspect that you shared the Chantry’s manic fear of it,” Morrigan answered.
 
“I haven’t really seen the need to use it and I don’t know much about it but you could certainly say that,” Aunn remarked. “Tell me more about this ritual. I presume that you’ll need me for it?”
 
Morrigan shook her head. “Not you, actually. Loghain.”
 
“Then why not speak to Loghain about this?” Aunn asked reasonably.
 
“I thought that I’d have a better chance convincing you and that you would have a better chance of convincing him,” Morrigan explained. “As his commanding officer you might even be able to order him to do it although given just what I’m asking of him…” she trailed off.
 
“What, exactly, are you asking of him?” Aunn inquired.
 
“I need him to lay with me tonight and the ritual will cause a child to be conceived,” Morrigan told her.
 
“You know, I had honestly never pictured you as the maternal type,” Aunn noted.
 
“I’m not,” Morrigan said flatly. “But I think I learned enough about how not to be a parent from Flemeth that I would be fine and this child would be…special.”
 
“It must be if its existence would save us,” Aunn agreed.
 
“The child will bear the taint, and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon,” Morrigan continued. “That’s why it has to be conceived by this ritual. Normally, the child of a Grey Warden is untainted even in the womb and the essence would not seek out anyone but the Grey Warden that killed it but this ritual will change all of that.”
 
“I’m not sure I like the sound of a child born tainted,” Aunn said slowly. “Would it be a ghoul? A darkspawn? What will carrying a tainted child do to you? Would you become a broodmother? Would the child even survive having the essence drawn into it? I really don’t like the idea of creating a child only to have it die to save me before it’s even born.”
 
“The child would not be born tainted,” Morrigan assured her. “It would only be tainted until it absorbs the Archdemon’s essence which, at this early stage, will not kill or even harm it. That’s why the ritual needs to be performed at the last minute, you see, but with our forced march to Denerim tomorrow this might be the last chance to do the ritual before the battle. I will be fine, the child will be fine, the Archdemon will be destroyed, and the one who kills the Archdemon will also be fine.”
 
“Would doing this allow anyone to kill the Archdemon so that even if Loghain, Riordan, and I all die but you don’t or if someone else just kills the Archdemon before we get to it that it won’t be reborn?” Aunn asked.
 
Morrigan shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that. It would be best not to risk it, just in case. Now, I’ve never been fond of ultimatums but I’m afraid I must issue one now. If you agree to the ritual then you must promise to let me walk away and raise the child alone in safety. If you do not, I’m going to leave now. I am not prepared to watch you throw your life away needlessly.”
 
“I see,” Aunn said quietly. “The other four Grey Wardens who ended the Blight were all killed. This can’t have been done before. What makes you think that it will work?”
 
“Do you really think that I would work so long to end the Blight only to end up making a mistake and bringing it back nine months from now?” Morrigan asked incredulously. “Or what about my mother? If she had just let you die then the Blight would take this nation so why would she have saved you if she wants the Blight to rage on? I trust her to look after her own interests, at least, and the Blight continuing is not in them.”
 
“Do you really think Loghain will agree to take such a huge risk when the alternative is much more predictable?” Aunn asked, unconvinced.
 
“No one said you had to be honest with him about it,” Morrigan pointed out. “If Riordan fails, Loghain will probably take the final blow.”
 
“He already asked me if he could,” Aunn confirmed.
 
“He will die the hero he wants to be rather than the villain he deserves to be,” Morrigan declared. “And you…what will you be except another Warden overshadowed by the Great Loghain?”
 
“Oh, I doubt I’ll slide into obscurity anytime soon,” Aunn said calmly. “And in several hundred years when all anyone remembers about the Blight is that Loghain died to end it, I won’t be around to care.”
 
“Is that a no?” Morrigan asked, disappointment and anger creeping into her voice.
 
Was she turning Morrigan down? She didn’t believe that either Morrigan or Flemeth wanted the Blight to continue so this would not interfere with her duty to end it. She didn’t know what having a child with the soul of an old god would do but the fact that Morrigan didn’t seem inclined to talk about it and planned to disappear forever with it didn’t sound particularly trustworthy. On the other hand, she rather doubted that Morrigan would deliberately do something particularly evil with it or even use it to try to take over the world. Mistakes could be made, however, and who knew what Flemeth intended?
 
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Aunn disagreed. “I’ll go ask him, I just felt you should know that your attempts to persuade me could use a little work.”
 
Morrigan just rolled her eyes and sat down on the bed again to wait as Aunn went to go find Loghain.
 
“What a shocking surprise this is that Eamon’s little village wasn’t what the horde was targeting after all,” Loghain remarked the minute she came into his room. “It almost seems like he just insisted on meeting here so that, with the civil war over with, he can continue to feel important.”
 
“Possibly,” Aunn said neutrally. “I just hope that, no matter what the reason, the army coming here won’t end up costing Denerim too badly. But listen, Morrigan just came to me with an idea about how to end the Blight without dying.”
 
“I had wondered why I saw her attempting to sneak into your room earlier,” Loghain mused. “And does she now? Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that she knew about the fact a Grey Wardens dies earlier?”
 
“That’s what I asked,” Aunn replied. “And she responded by asking me if I’d believe that Grey Wardens have worked with a talking darkspawn to both kill all Archdemons and to turn the entire population into ghouls.”
 
“I would,” Loghain told her.
 
“Really? I would like to have more faith in the order than that, particularly as we pretty much are the Ferelden order right now,” Aunn said.
 
Loghain shrugged indifferently. “As you like. Why are you telling me this? Does Morrigan’s idea involve me in some way? Or you planning on taking a vote before accepting it?”
 
“Morrigan says she can save us if you sleep with her,” Aunn explained.
 
Loghain didn’t move for a moment, absorbing that. “Just so we’re clear, can she save us now but just wants to sleep with me for whatever reason or is sleeping with her necessary for her saving us?”


“She can’t save us unless you sleep with her,” Aunn clarified.
 
“Why possible good could that do?” Loghain demanded. “There’s not a child involved, is there?”
 
“There might be,” Aunn admitted.
 
“A child,” Loghain said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “With me as the father and the marsh witch as the mother. That is so beyond the realm of anything I would have expected…why? Why would having a child save anyone?” He sounded outraged.
 
“Morrigan wants the soul of the old god,” Aunn told him. “But she also wants to end the Blight so it’s not like we have that to worry about.”
 
“Because Maker knows that was my only concern,” Loghain said sarcastically. “This is really all so very unnecessary, Aunn. We’ve already agreed that should Riordan fail that I’ll take the blow. Your life isn’t really in danger and there’s no need to worry about saving mine.”
 
“It’s not like I want you to die, you know,” Aunn said earnestly.
 
Loghain looked taken aback. “I…appreciate the sentiment but I fear that the cost would not be worth it and I could do no greater good than ending the threat this tainted god represents right here and now. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
 
Aunn smiled sadly. “I’m afraid that I am asking. I won’t insult you by trying to order you to do it, though. Even if you would go through with it if I did, I think you deserve better than that.”
 
Loghain sighed. “I do not think that this is wise but then if I were a wise man then none of this would have happened. Maker help us all, I will do as you ask.”




Loghain steadfastly refused to look at Morrigan during the entire march to Denerim which Aunn would have found far more amusing if she weren’t also feeling vaguely guilty for making him sleep with her and also kind of responsible for whatever trouble this fetus would get into when it was older. She also wondered if Loghain would ever get around to telling Anora that she was going to be a big sister to someone that she had better hope she never met.
 
The army had to march double time to Denerim but even then it took them nearly a week to get there. Alistair was apparently too busy being betrayed to bother to come with them and so the non-warrior of the ruling pair, Anora, had marched with them instead. She stopped the army right before they reached the city for a motivational speech.
 
“You don’t mind, do you?” Anora asked. “It’s not very long as my voice has never really been suitable for shouting and all you’d have to do is stand there. They’ll need something to inspire them before they go into Ferelden’s capital that has been in darkspawn hands for over half a week.”
 
“By all means,” Aunn said and followed Anora onto the makeshift platform that had quickly been set up in the front of the crowd.
 
“Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde!” Anora cried out. She was right; her voice really wasn’t suitable for that. “Gaze upon them now, but fear them not! The darkspawn have been plaguing us for over a year now! Ever since they killed my husband, King Cailan, at Ostagar they’ve been destined to meet us here. They’ve killed our families and our friends and tainted our land! They won’t stop until they’ve taken everything we have. We are Fereldens and Dalish and proud men from Orzammar. We’ve all come together for perhaps the noblest purpose there is: defending our everything from the darkspawn. Will we do nothing and watch them destroy all that we’ve worked for all these years? All the freedom we’ve fought so hard for and the stability we desperately need?” She paused to give the crowd time to start calling out their answer and began to make her way down from the stage. “No, we won’t. We’re going to go in there and we’re going to take back our capital. For King Cailan, for the Grey Wardens who’ve already given their lives for us, for all the brave men and women who have done the same, but most of all…For Ferelden!”




It was a little discouraging to see just how many darkspawn were even just at the gates. There was one darkspawn in particular that Aunn remembered who was holding a sword to the throat of a terrified-looking soldier when they first showed up. He had looked right at the army charging his position and he had slowly, deliberately slit the man’s throat and kicked his body away before meeting their attack. Aunn had made a point to kill him personally. At first it seemed like the attack would never end. The darkspawn they were facing weren’t particularly difficult to kill by this point but there were just so many of them. Every time she cut one down two or three more would materialize seemingly out of nowhere and she wouldn’t get the opportunity to rest. It wasn’t like the darkspawn had the ability to just spawn from the very walls, however, no matter how tainted the walls may be and so eventually they began to get the upper hand and, a little later, to get all the darkspawn in the immediate vicinity. There was no guarantee that more wouldn’t come pouring in from another part of the city or from even outside of it but for now they had some time to form a plan.
 
“The army won’t be able to win this fight,” Riordan declared as he came up to them. “And so we’ll need to find and kill the Archdemon as soon as possible.”
 
“We can’t touch it as long as it keeps flying around like it’s been doing,” Aunn pointed out. “And it knows that. Why would it land?”
 
“To take out the only threats to it,” Riordan said grimly. “We three Wardens. Once we die, it doesn’t matter how many times the army kills it because it will just reform.”
 
“So we’ll need to draw it’s attention,” Loghain surmised. “Act as our own bait.”
 
Riordan nodded. “Precisely. The higher we go the better the chances of attracting its attention. I recommend heading to the top of Fort Drakon, myself. We’ll need to split up, of course, as the three of us together will never make it there since we’ll be drawing every darkspawn in sight to us. I’ll head off towards Fort Drakon one way and you, Loghain, and maybe a few others head off the other way. Your current group will attract far too much attention so I would leave them here to guard the gate. I’ll take the shorter path to Fort Drakon and hopefully reach him before you do. If not…remember, we are Grey Wardens and we must do whatever is necessary to end the Blight. Maker keep you.”
 
“May the Paragons favor you, and the Stone catch you if you fall,” Aunn returned solemnly.
 
Riordan nodded and turned away.
 
“You don’t think we should have told him about…?” Loghain asked, glancing at Morrigan.
 
“I think he’s happier not knowing, personally,” Aunn declared.
 
“Should he succeed in killing the Archdemon and the ritual succeeds as well, we’ll have quite a bit of explaining to do,” Loghain pointed out.
 
Aunn laughed. “You might. I’m not planning on admitting to anything. And, after all, why should we know anything more about what happened than he did? If anything, we should be suspicious because we got our clearly faulty information from him.” She turned back to her companions. “Okay, chances are we’re going to need some healing and long-ranged attacks so Wynne and Morrigan come with Loghain and I. Oghren, you’ve led men before and done it well so I’m going to put you in charge of guarding the gate, okay?”
 
“Fine, fine, let’s just get on with it!” Oghren said impatiently. “These darkspawn won’t kill themselves. Well, probably not. If they do it won’t be as much fun, at any rate.”
 
“Now, we should really get going before-” Aunn started to say.
 
“Wait!” Leliana interrupted. “We could all die horrible, painful deaths before we see each other again! We’ve got say goodbye to you, at least!”
 
“I’m really not sure we have the time,” Aunn protested.
 
“It will only take a couple of minutes,” Leliana insisted. “And surely that won’t doom Ferelden.”
 
Aunn wondered if it would take longer to convince Leliana that they didn’t have time to do touching goodbyes or to actually just say the goodbyes. “Just make it quick,” she requested.
 
Leliana put everyone in a line to say their goodbyes starting with Wynne.

“I know that we don’t get along,” Wynne told her. “But I hope you stop the Blight.” How very touching.
 
“The arishok asked, ‘What is the Blight?’ I stand here looking into its eyes, and still I have no answer for him. But perhaps you do,” Sten told her. “You have carried us this far. Go grant them the death they seek.”
 
“You know,” Zevran teased. “Had I known that by trying to kill you I would have ended up facing down a Blight I probably would have stayed in Antiva.”
 
Trian barked a warning that she had better come back or else make sure to die at a place where he could not get to her corpse.
 
“Expect no touching farewells from me, I find this just as ridiculous as you do,” Loghain assured her.
 
“And so we go into the city together on one last journey before we part forever,” Morrigan declared. “This is fitting.”
 
“Have fun storming the castle,” Shale told her. “It will take a miracle to pull this off.”
 
“It’s time to show these Surfacers what it means to fight darkspawn, huh?” Oghren asked, practically giddy with anticipation for the battle to come.
 
“I wish that I could go with you,” Leliana said wistfully. “But I understand. Mages are more useful than archers and you need to take Loghain with you. I won’t let any darkspawn pass through those gates!”
 
“You’re not getting cold feet now, are you? You’ll be fine,” Alistair had said.
 
“Let’s go,” Aunn said once they were finished, hoping to make her escape before Leliana made them all line up to say goodbye to Loghain, Morrigan, and Wynne as well.
 
As the group of four began to make their way deeper into the city, the troops lined up to watch them pass, shouting encouragements at them. One in particular could be heard above the rest.
 
“Go kill those godless bastards!”
 
Aunn rolled her eyes. Stone, some people could be insensitive.




Aunn had to admit that of all the things she expected to find right before the staircase leading to the roof on the top floor of Fort Drakon, a typically-vague but completely unharmed Sandal was not one of them. He was surrounded by darkspawn corpses and, quite frankly, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know what had happened. Knowing him, he’d just respond to her questions with ‘Enchantment!’ And who knew? Maybe he really had used an enchantment to kill them.
 
They had found two darkspawn generals of sorts who were coordinating attacks in the Alienage and the market district. Aunn hoped that Gorim had gotten out okay. She had left a group of Dalish elves to deal with things in the Alienage (there were actually survivors there, strangely. Apparently the ease at which they could all be locked in was useful for once) and some Redcliffe men to deal with the market area while she and a group of mages and fellow dwarves – including Kardol and some of his legion – made their way to the Archdemon. Technically, she didn’t even know for sure that Riordan hadn’t already killed it but if he had then it had been extremely anticlimactic and she had been expecting something a little…more dramatic to happen when the Archdemon finally fell.
 
Wynne tried asking Sandal where his father was and what happened but, predictably, he only answered with an enthusiastic, “Enchantment!” Sandal was a cute kid but one day he’d grow up and it was sad how limited his life would be. He’d likely never be destitute again since his skills as an enchanter had been discovered but just the same…
 
They rushed up the stairs and out onto the open part of the roof. The Archdemon was already there, it seemed, and knocking men back left and right. It was truly a sight to behold it. It looked like the high dragon she had faced back when she had been looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes or the one that Flemeth had shape-shifted into except far bigger and coated with the same oily taint that all the darkspawn had. Though the smell in the city was already revolting from the taint and the burning and decomposing flesh, it was somehow worse up here.
 
There were several ballistas that the dwarves quickly moved to. Using that would allow them to get in shots at the Archdemon when it was too far away to physically hit them. There was only one thing for Aunn to do as she wasn’t about to tell everyone that she had heroically stayed as far away from the Archdemon as she could and fired ranged attacks on it. For mages, that was fine. For the Warden that was supposed to save them and who had far fancier title than she deserved for all the general-ing she had done, it really wouldn’t go over well.
 
Only one thing to do then: hack away at the Archdemon’s limbs, stay behind it so it couldn’t light her on fire, and avoid being stepped on or swatted by the tail. It sounded like a relatively simply prospect but she knew it wouldn’t be. As she got closer, she could see that one of the wings on the Archdemon was sliced openly pretty deeply which might explain why it was staying more-or-less in one place and practically inviting an all-out assault.
 
As Aunn got close to the Archdemon, it turned its head and spewed out a jet of bright purple flames. As flames were most definitely not supposed to be purple, this was probably magic. The fact that the Archdemon could employ some sort of magic was discouraging and Aunn was all the more determined not to let the flames hit her any more than she could help it. Fortunately, the near-constant barrage of spells and ballista shells were quite enough to keep occupied the Archdemon and so she had to deal with far less attention from it than she would have otherwise. Loghain and the dwarves who hadn’t claimed a ballista were also right there beside her trying to kill this tainted god by inches.
 
Through it all, the Archdemon wouldn’t stop roaring loudly in frustration and pain. Initially, it seemed like the noise was just that: noise. Just when Aunn was beginning to think that they were getting somewhere, however, darkspawn reinforcements came to the aid of their leader and the Archdemon itself flew backwards a few feet to a crumbled section of the roof that didn’t appear to be accessible to any close-ranged fighters so Aunn signaled the dwarves at the ballistas that could still reach the Archdemon and all of the mages to keep going after their main opponent – though hopefully not killing it, had anyone thought to tell the troops not to kill it? – while those such as herself that could no longer get to the Archdemon personally now turned their attention on stopping the wave of reinforcements that had come pouring in before the mages had to take their focus off the end goal to deal with that minor annoyance.
 
The Archdemon had also started to fire out a new kind of attack. It was harder to avoid than the fire and stretched further. While the darkspawn didn’t appear to be affected, whatever this new magic was definitely was affecting her people. It wasn’t enough to kill or even seriously injure although getting hit with it too many times could add up and cause a problem. Aunn glanced over to see Angélique take out three darkspawn that had snuck up behind her with one spell without even turning around. She may be of the opinion that the mage was seriously disturbed and far too frivolous and disconnected from reality (to put it mildly) but she certainly couldn’t deny that the girl was powerful and could more than hold her own in a fight. She was beginning to see why Duncan had wanted to recruit her…and was infinitely glad that he hadn’t managed it. Angélique was proving quite useful here, after all, and had Aunn had to deal with her on a regular basis she never would have lived to see the final battle.
 
The close-quarters fighters had just managed to gain the upper hand on the darkspawn reinforcements when said reinforcements got their own set of reinforcements and yet more waves of darkspawn poured onto the roof. Aunn had long since lost track of how many darkspawn they had killed and corpses were everywhere. They were losing people too, of course, but fortunately not nearly as many as the darkspawn were losing because they were severely outnumbered, even here. Aunn hated to admit that she was tiring but it was true.
 
The only saving grace was that the Archdemon seemed to be tiring as well and had, for whatever reason, moved once more back to the main section of the roof where everyone could get to it. She exchanged a look with Loghain. Now that they could get close enough to kill it, it was time to leave the mundane darkspawn-slaying to the others and be at hand so that one of them could take down the Archdemon and they wouldn’t have to go through all of that all over again. Aunn honestly didn’t think she had it in her to kill the Archdemon twice but if the look on Loghain’s face was anything to go by he quite disagreed.
 
At long last, a powerful spell from Morrigan hit the Archdemon who shuddered once and then collapsed all at once. Most of the people on the roof didn’t seem to notice, so caught up in their own battle were they. If the Archdemon died, it wouldn’t mean that the darkspawn already here would just go away, it would just mean that the Blight was over and the highly organized forces would fall back into easier to handle chaos.
 
Aunn watched the heavily wounded Archdemon as it just lay there breathing. It was a pathetic sight to see such a powerful creature brought so low and now she was starting to sound like Morrigan. Morrigan who wanted to save this creature in some form and would soon be gone forever with a huge influence over the old god reborn. Aunn wondered vaguely whether she should feel sorry for the old god. Yes, it was the reason that the Blight had happened but on the other hand…could it help the song that it was emitting while it lay sleeping? Aunn had always seen the story of how the darkspawn were compelled to search out for the old gods and then taint them and enslave them as tragic for both sides but particularly for the creature that was captured and forced to lead those that had trapped and enslaved it. Maybe it did deserve that second chance. Aunn could only hope that Morrigan knew what she was doing and knew how to keep her future child from being tainted and used again and starting up a new Blight.
 
“So this is it,” Loghain said quietly. “After everything, it’s finally ending right here, right now.”
 
“This is it,” Aunn agreed.
 
“I know Morrigan’s ritual is supposed to save us but…are you really sure that we should risk it?” Loghain asked her. “I’ve no idea where Riordan is. If he didn’t make it to Fort Drakon by now then he’s probably dead. Either way, he’s not here and so you or I have to take the blow. In case Morrigan is wrong and one of us should die anyway, I’d like to repeat my request to be allowed to be the one that takes that risk. There aren’t many who would have given me a chance to set things right after what I had done. I must confess, in your place I would have killed me. I have killed the one standing in my place at the Landsmeet or required someone else to kill them. Morrigan might be right and it will work and we shall live. But ask yourself this, Aunn: what if it doesn’t? Are you really willing to take that risk?”
 
“It’s going to work,” Morrigan said, coming up to stand by them and sounding rather annoyed.
 
“You can’t know that,” Loghain argued. “You know that it should work and that the ritual came from your mother. I don’t trust your mother.”
 
“Smart man,” Morrigan said approvingly. “But it will work. Otherwise there was no point in sending me with you. Whoever kills the Archdemon will live because the only way they would die is if the essence of the old god was destroyed as well and that’s something we’re trying to avoid.”
 
“I think I’m going to have to risk it,” Aunn decided. “There wasn’t much point doing a desperate and dangerous sex ritual that could backfire us in more ways than I could imagine if we don’t even believe it’s going to work.”
 
“Perhaps it was just wishful thinking,” Loghain said dryly.
 
“I may die,” Aunn allowed. “And I certainly don’t want to do that but I’ve been working for this since Ostagar. I think, if it’s quite alright, that I’d like to be the one actually end this once and for all.”
 
“If you’re going to do it then I’d hurry up before someone else decides to kill the Archdemon and we have to do this all over again,” Loghain advised.
 
Aunn nodded. She looked at the Starfang in her hand for a moment before driving the sword down hard into the Archdemon’s skull. Immediately, a bright white light engulfed the area and pushed Aunn backwards. There was a sudden pain and a feeling of overcrowded-ness that Aunn wasn’t quite sure how to explain. Was this the essence of the old god making its way into her after all? Had she been wrong to put her faith in Morrigan’s ritual? Just as she was seriously beginning to wish that she’d let Loghain make the final blow after all, the pain receded and, shortly after that, so did the light.
 
Aunn was, against all odds, still alive. Alistair was probably still alive. Loghain was still alive. Riordan likely wasn’t but for all she knew he had been the one to ground the Archdemon in the first place. Morrigan was gone but Aunn saw a black bird flying away from the rooftop and all of the real animals had long since perished or fled the city.
 
The Blight was over.

[Sarah1281]

Chapter Thirty-Three: It's Over


As soon as Denerim had been made even vaguely habitable again, the coronation of Alistair and Anora took place. Aunn had been surprised to see that they were apparently given their authority by the Revered Mother. That just struck her as a bad idea for several reasons and it really seemed to give the Chantry power over the legitimate monarchs. The common people must be really set on this or else Aunn couldn’t imagine why Anora, at least, would put up with it. Aunn had to admit that she felt a little bad for Alistair who had tried to grab Anora’s hand as they went up the steps to get crowned together and Anora had promptly pulled her hand away. She must really not be fond of public displays of affection like that because it made her look a little too cold. If it had been Aunn and she disapproved of Alistair’s actions, which she did as she wasn’t big on hand-holding herself, then she would have reluctantly put up with it, disentangled her hand as soon as she could without appearing rude, and then spoken to him in private at the earliest opportunity about not pulling something like that again.
 
Once Anora and Alistair had been crowned, cheers rose up to greet them and Alistair, still not speaking to her, stepped into the background while Anora gestured for her to come forward. As she did, Anora turned to address the crowd. “My friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Fortunately, the Grey Warden who slayed the Archdemon remains with us still. Ladies and gentleman, I present the Hero of Ferelden. The first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel four centuries ago. Grey Warden, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor. Is there any boon you might request from Ferelden’s queen?”
 
Aunn concentrated on not twitching. She had been told that she was going to be called the ‘Hero of Ferelden’ before now but that didn’t mean that she had to like it. It was apparently a Ferelden tradition to call the people who had done great deeds the ‘Hero of whatever it was that they had saved’ and since Aunn had ended the Blight she was probably lucky that she’d been able to avoid being crowned the ‘Hero of Thedas.’ It was a grandiose-sounding title, of course, but it felt far too nationalistic for her tastes given that she really hadn’t even remotely done it for Ferelden. She wondered, again, if she should have just let Loghain do it so he’d be saddled with another silly nickname.
 
Now, there were a lot of things that Aunn could have asked for. She knew that the teynir of Gwaren was officially empty since Loghain had quietly abdicated after the Landsmeet (apparently he had never really liked being a noble in the first place, it wasn’t like Anora needed it, and he had some sort of idea about it not being appropriate for Grey Wardens to have a title) and – dwarf or no – she could probably manage to take that for a generation. She knew that Anora was not looking forward to having Eamon as her chancellor and she happened to like Aunn much more as, instead of trying to depose her and kill her father, Aunn had spared her father and let her keep her throne and the only way to avoid Eamon gaining that new position was if someone currently more celebrated took the position instead. She knew that with Alistair still sulking about how the Grey Wardens were ‘ruined forever’ and the current feelings of public support for the order that she could ask that something be done to make sure that they never found themselves in such a situation where people actually thought that the Grey Wardens were obsolete again.
 
Aunn could have asked for a great deal at that moment and, given that Anora was asking in front of a huge crowd of very important people, as long as it wasn’t excessive she could have pretty much whatever she wanted. But, really, there was only one thing that she could bring herself to ask for. “I ask only for aid for my people against the darkspawn.”
 
Anora looked pleased at this. Helping the species that had produced the Warden that was their new hero to fight and kill the enemy that had very recently been going after them would e a very popular move. And what’s more, Aunn had been vague enough so that Anora could decide for herself how much aid would be appropriate. “Let it be known that the entire army of Ferelden will be heading to Orzammar to help push back the darkspawn in the Deep Roads. We won’t make the mistake of ignoring the darkspawn threat again quite so soon.”
 
There was a thunderous applause and as it died down Anora spoke again. “What are your plans now? Will you be staying in Denerim?”
 
“It’s tempting,” Aunn lied, not particularly caring one way or the other about the city. “But really, I’d like nothing more than to just go home.” She had no idea if she’d be able to stay there as anything other than a Grey Warden but Orzammar was definitely going to be her first stop. She’d been anxious almost non-stop since leaving her home for the second time because she could tell that Bhelen’s posthumous rebellion was just getting started.
 
Anora said a few more words and then those assembled were free to talk amongst themselves. Aunn had seen Gorim in the crowd earlier and was eager to go talk to him now that her obligations to the Wardens were over (well, as far as she was concerned they were) but there were a few quick conversations she felt that she should probably have before doing so. The first of these conversations was with Ferelden’s new king…whether he liked it or not.
 
“So,” he said bitterly when she came up to him. He was either still wearing that armor of Cailan’s that he’d never wanted in the first place or a set that looked a great deal like it. He looked very kingly in it although his constant scowling was rather off-putting. “Still alive, are you?”
 
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed,” Aunn replied.
 
“Oh, that’s not what I’m disappointed in,” Alistair corrected her. “Rather, I’m disappointed that Loghain is. Wasn’t that one of the reasons that you inducted him into the Wardens? Riordan certainly seemed adamant that someone had to die to stop the Blight and while a Warden did die and the Blight did end, the two did not happen simultaneously. The Orlesian Wardens haven’t even gotten here yet and already they’re very interested in what happened.” No, there had been witnesses to Riordan leaping off of the roof of Fort Drakon onto the back of the Archdemon and slicing opening its wing and preventing it from really escaping once Aunn’s group had arrived but he had tragically fallen to his death in the process.
 
“That was the plan, yes,” Aunn said carefully. “And Loghain even asked to be allowed to do it but…we took a third option.”
 
“What? You’re not going to tell me?” Alistair asked angrily.
 
“I would,” Aunn told him. “Except that I’m concerned that you may very well sell us out to the Orlesian Wardens.”


Alistair shook his head. “I should have known it would be something illicit. I’ll bet you anything it was blood magic, too, but I guess everyone’s a lot happier not knowing. Duncan would be happy that the Blight’s over and I’m happy that Loghain isn’t the big hero here even if you hardly deserve it more.”
 
“Well, one of us had to be the big hero,” Aunn pointed out. “And you left so you weren’t in the running and I was the one who happened to stab the final blow so that someone was me.” Riordan had said something about not being able to just stop being a Grey Warden but she and Alistair had agreed not long ago that refusing to face a Blight meant that you didn’t deserve the title and, to his credit, Alistair wasn’t claiming any connection with them anymore…and Aunn was still a horrible Warden for being so quick to leave.
 
“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Aunn offered. “I know that’s not what you want but it’s really the best that I can do.”
 
“If you could, would you do it again?” Alistair demanded, fixing her with a hard look.
 
“Yes,” Aunn responded immediately. “I had my reasons then and, way out of making the ultimate sacrifice or not, most of those reasons are still valid. Besides, I was not about to kill a man I had no intention to just to because you wanted me to.”
 
“And that right there is why I really don’t feel that we have very much to say to one another,” Alistair said bluntly. “I don’t know how I could ever forgive you for even sparing Loghain but if you regretted it and thought that it was a mistake it would be a lot easier. The fact that you stand by that decision…I thought you were my friend. It doesn’t really matter, I guess. We could be on the best terms ever and I still wouldn’t be seeing very much of you since you’re leaving.”
 
He was right. For all that Aunn hated to leave things so badly between them, the simple fact of the matter was that she was going and he was staying. Ultimately, it didn’t even matter. They might never see each other again.
 
“Goodbye, Alistair,” Aunn said softly. “Prove all those doubters and critics wrong about you.”
 
Her next stop was Ferelden’s queen who, despite having known Aunn for far less time, was much happier to speak to her. “I’ve already thanked you on behalf of Ferelden, Aunn, so now let me offer you my personal congratulations. While I’ve never really had my father’s issues with your Order, I’ve also never shared Cailan’s fascination with it and had my doubts that so few of you could end the Blight. And yet…here you are.”
 
“Here we are,” Aunn agreed.
 
“You know that Weisshaupt will probably be quite eager to see you take command of the Arling that I’ve just awarded the Grey Wardens,” Anora told her, business-like once more. “And while I will never let an Orlesian have command of a Ferelden Arling, you’re quite a different matter. You’re our newest hero. Are you certain that you don’t want the job?”
 
“Positive,” Aunn said firmly. “And even if I did, this seems like the most efficient way to save your father.”
 
“Honestly,” Anora said, annoyed. “I don’t know what those Wardens were thinking. Do they not know of my father’s…dislike of Orlais? Do they want to punish him for not letting them in during our most recent Blight? Do they really think that I’m just going to sit by and watch my father be exiled unnecessarily from the land he’s given everything for time after time?”
 
“I don’t know,” Aunn replied. “Perhaps they’re concerned that he’ll ‘meddle’.”
 
Anora laughed. “As Arl, he had better. It’s part of the job description, I hear.” The Orlesian Wardens hadn’t been pleased to hear that not only was Loghain not going to being heeding the First Warden’s request to transfer him to Orlais but that Anora was willing to go back on her word to give the Wardens Amaranthine if they tried to send an Orlesian Warden to take command of it but since they wanted Amaranthine far more than Anora had wanted to give it to them, they had quickly conceded. Orlais was still going to be sending a dozen or so Wardens to help Ferelden’s Order rebuild itself but a Ferelden – Loghain – was going to be leading it. “So…when Alistair is not sulking, is he always like that?”
 
Anora could hardly have been vaguer but Aunn thought that she knew what the queen meant just the same. “Yes, always. You’ll get used to it.”
 
Anora closed her eyes. “Joy. Still, he has surprised me with his eagerness to learn the business of ruling and in that, at least, he’ll make a better king than Cailan. In some ways he reminds me of my first husband, you know, and that – whatever my father may think – is no failing.”
 
Next, of course, Aunn went to go speak with the new Arl himself.
 
“Congratulations on your new position,” she greeted him. “Even if it is a step down from your previous one.”
 
“There can only be two Teyrns,” Loghain responded neutrally. “An Arl can have nearly that much power as Eamon proves. So long as Teyrn Fergus does not decide to personally hold me responsible for the actions of the late Arl Howe it shouldn’t be a problem.”
 
“Oh, did he survive?” Aunn asked. “Last I heard he was still missing.”
 
“I saw him earlier,” Loghain replied. “He’s actually here at the coronation though I’ve yet to speak with him so I don’t know if he is holding me responsible. Not that being utterly despised by a good portion of the nobility will be anything new.”
 
“See, there is a bright side,” Aunn joked.
 
“Yes, I’m quite relieved not to have a Ferelden Arling in the hands of the Orlesians,” Loghain remarked. “If my daughter had allowed such an indignity then I would have been forced to wonder where I had gone wrong with her and given that she’s our queen, my failings as a parent would make the entire country pay. From what I understand, she interfered on my behalf to keep me from being sent to Montsimmard. While I do appreciate not spending out the rest of my days in Orlais, I rather wish she had not interfered all the same.”
 
“Well there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Aunn pointed out. “And at least she managed to make keeping you here a matter of practicality as well as of sentiment.”
 
“Really, I wasn’t going to go on a mad killing spree the moment I arrived,” Loghain deadpanned. “It was highly unnecessary to challenge Weisshaupt over the matter so.”
 
“Maybe, but it’s not like Anora wasn’t holding sufficient cards to do it,” Aunn replied.
 
Loghain looked surprised at the thought that she wouldn’t. “Naturally. She is my daughter, after all. But on a more serious matter…it would appear that Morrigan’s ritual has worked, for better or for ill. I cannot help but feel as if we’ve made a terrible mistake and that one day that child will be back to doom us all. The essence of an old god is a powerful thing and I can’t imagine that it would be so easy to control, not to mention that I rather lack faith in her parenting skills. And since I was right there and ready to kill the Archdemon myself, the ritual wasn’t even necessary.”
 
“Perhaps,” Aunn allowed. “But all of that’s hindsight and with our luck if we hadn’t done the ritual you would have been stepped on two minutes into the battle. I don’t believe that Morrigan would deliberately have her child destroy us all but, as you said, it will likely prove difficult to control. We’ll just have to try and make sure that we’re ready for it when it comes back. If it comes back.”
 
“And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me’,” Loghain noted, somewhat amused. “You’re not even staying with the Wardens.”
 
“No, but I will give them a wonderful welcome whenever they arrive in Orzammar,” Aunn promised.
 
“I’ve already got my eye on one recruit, actually,” Loghain confided. “She’s not ideal but in times like these you take what you can get.”
 
“Oh, who is it?” Aunn asked curiously.
 
Loghain smirked at her, clearly having no intention of telling her. “I suppose we will see each other again, then, for my Calling if nothing else,” he declared instead. “Before you get back to your well-wishers, I want to tell you that you’ve earned my respect. It’s odd that I’ve ended up here saying that to you of all people, but there you have it.”
 
Aunn smiled at that. He didn’t give out compliments lightly and so that meant a lot to her.
 
Gorim was laughing when he saw her. “Glorious!”
 
Aunn tensed and looked around automatically.
 
Gorim shot her an odd look. “What?”
 
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Aunn told him. “I just expect to see an ogre about to kill everyone whenever I hear that word.”
 
“What word? Glorious?” Gorim inquired.
 
Aunn winced. “Yes. That one.”
 
“Hm. I’ll have to remember that one,” Gorim mused. “Though I’m not sure I even want to know why you developed that particular issue and you can hardly avoid hearing that word back in Orzammar. I’ve got to say, this is truly a great day for we dwarves. One of our own came out of nowhere and took down the Blight practically single-handedly! It will certainly give those humans pause next time one of them wants to bad-mouth a dwarf.”
 
“Do people badmouth dwarves?” Aunn asked, surprised. She tried to think back on whether or not she’d had to deal with any of that. “I mean, I did hear this one child saying something negative but, in his defense, he was possessed by a demon at the time and saying all sorts of strange things.”
 
“I’m not surprised you didn’t hear anything,” Gorim told her, still amused. “But yes, they do.”
 
“So what made you decide to show up to this human coronation?” Aunn wondered. “I mean, I’m here but I kind of had to be.”


“The Assembly contacted me with a message for you,” Gorim replied. “The idea that someone could become something other than a manservant if they were once is completely beyond them, of course. Anyway, I figured that here would probably be the best place to be able to find you easily and also that you might want to hear the good news as soon as possible.”
 
Aunn laughed. “Good news from the Assembly. That would be a first.”
 
“It was bound to happen sooner or later. And this news really is the best,” Gorim said, barely able to contain his excitement.
 
“Well, what it is?” Aunn asked, the suspense beginning to get to her, too.
 
“We’ve both been given leave to return to Orzammar!” Gorim exclaimed.
 
Aunn’s eyes widened. She had been planning to go back no matter how little she might have been welcome, of course, but it was nice to know that she wasn’t going to have to deal with being called ‘exile’ again. “Wait…did you say both of us? I know that they’re probably eager to claim my hero status for Orzammar and I did kill off most of my political opponents which was good for those still alive in the Assembly but why are they letting you return as well?” Realizing how that might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I’m not really happy for you or anything, it’s just odd.”
 
Gorim smiled. “You must be letting these Surfacers influence you if you don’t realize that as they decided that I was going to pay for your actions when you were blamed for killing Trian, I’d also profit from them when you ended the Blight. The fate of the second is tied up in the fate of the noble they serve, after all.”
 
Aunn looked horrified at the mention of her being influenced by her time in Ferelden. “Don’t say that!”
 
“As you wish,” he said light-heartedly. “And that’s not at all. It would seem that Harrowmont is mighty grateful for what you did and for having his faith in you vindicated. As the only other heir House Aeducan has is Bhelen’s infant son, you’ve been named the head of your House and we both have full rights restored. To think…my child will be born in Orzammar. I’m not sure what caste she’ll be if it’s a girl but I suppose we’ll figure something out.”
 
“That is just…that is amazing,” Aunn declared, delighted. She wondered if this meant that Shaper Czibor was now officially going to refuse to acknowledge that she was ever an exile. Probably. The legality of what did and did not exist or happen could make even her head hurt sometimes and she was quite grateful that she wasn’t a scholar whose job it was to keep track of things like that. “I don’t even have the words. Has anything like this ever been done before?”
 
“Not that I’m aware of,” Gorim replied. “Although with your interest in history, you’d probably no better than me. And even that’s not all.”
 
Aunn blinked. “By the Ancestors, how much more could they possibly do for me?”
 
“They could be seriously considering making you a Paragon,” Gorim revealed. “They’ve named people Paragons for less, as you well know. And getting the humans to send troops to the Deep Roads to help with the darkspawn should make it a lock, I think.”
 
“You know, I’m starting to think that being made into a scapegoat for my brother’s murder at the behest of my other brother and having my father let it all happen only to change his mind after it was too late to mean anything was the best thing that could have ever happened to me,” Aunn said, unable to really believe what she was hearing.
 
“Yes, an ‘exiled murderer’ could really do worse,” Gorim agreed. “Congratulations, my lady. You’ve earned it.” Trying suddenly to seem casual, he continued, “So you said that you were planning on heading home. Is home still Orzammar for you?”
 
Aunn laughed. “As if it could be anywhere else. Even when they didn’t want me it was still my home so what could possibly keep me away now that they’re falling all over themselves for me?”
 
“I was hoping that you’d say that,” Gorim said, relieved. “You’ve got a lot of opportunities there now. You could found your own house, head up House Aeducan, deliver the news about the humans coming in person…”
 
“And convince them to allow them in,” Aunn added. “I can’t even begin to think of any reason why they might not but I really don’t want to take any chances that they’re feeling especially insular and will turn down such an incredible gift.”
 
“You know, I’ll be proud to take up my old position again if you’ll have me,” Gorim offered, sounding almost shy. “I mean, I know that I won’t be much use in a fight but-”
 
“Absolutely,” Aunn cut him off. “You might have been able to stay in Orzammar if you turned on me and most people would have been bitter after losing everything because of me and my family issues but you weren’t and you didn’t. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty, Gorim, and there’s no one I’d rather have at my side.”
 
Next, she saw Eamon beckoning to her and went to go see what he wanted. He had been thrilled that Alistair was taking the throne but considerably less that Anora was part of the package. Really, it seemed almost like the fates were conspiring against him getting his precious Theirin heir. Oh well. It really wasn’t going to be her problem now that she was finally getting the chance to go home and surely Alistair and Anora would have the sense to find an appropriate heir at some point.
 
“I know that Anora has already thanked you on behalf of Ferelden and your new appellation leaves no doubt to our gratitude but please allow me to add my own thanks to those that you’ve already received,” Eamon requested. “You not only stopped the Blight but you ended our civil war for us first and went far above and beyond the call of duty to aid me personally.”
 
“I was happy to help,” Aunn told him. “I’m not sure if you know this but I come from a noble family back in Orzammar myself and it’s certainly…dysfunctional. Isolde may have caused a lot of problems handling Connor’s magic but it was clear just how much you all cared about each other and so, risk or not, I really couldn’t bring myself to do anything else.”
 
“Which is why I thank you,” Eamon said warmly. “It really is too bad that you’re not staying. The Hero of Ferelden would have influence but I understand. Not to mention that you’ll probably have a great deal of influence back in Orzammar to make use.”
 
“I heard something about you becoming Chancellor,” Aunn remarked. “So I take it that you’re staying here?”
 
Eamon nodded. “I am. Alistair will make a fine king in time, I have no doubt, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I put him on the throne without formal training and then abandoned him. Isolde doesn’t particularly want to return to Redcliffe, which is understandable, and soon we’ll need to talk to the mages about Connor…I’m leaving Teagan in charge of the Arling while I’m serving in Denerim.”
 
“That should go over well,” Aunn commented. “The people really seemed to respect and admire your brother for his willingness to stay and defend them during the invasion of the undead.”
 
“There is that,” Eamon agreed. “And from what I understand, the fate of my seneschal wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. I really do not envy my brother the staffing troubles he’s going to have. That alone makes staying in Denerim worth it.”
 
“Yeah, having virtually all of your staff get killed by a demon and then used in an army of undead is definitely going to make would-be servants rethink exactly how bad they need that job,” Aunn noted.
 
“Given what the Blight’s done to the economy I’m going to say ‘desperately’,” Eamon returned. “Although there will still be some problems. I’m rather hoping that Teagan doesn’t realize this until he’s already taken up the mantle of Arl or else I might have to find somebody else to do it. There’s always Isolde, of course, but in addition to her not wanting to ever return to Redcliffe, the people are also…rather displeased with her handling of Connor’s possession.”
 
The next person that Aunn saw was Wynne and while she didn’t particularly want to talk to her, it would be rude not to and so she might as well get it over with. For some reason, she was talking animatedly with Shale.
 
“It seems like it must be blood magic,” Shale was saying. “Or why else would we need to go to the Tevinter?”
 
“Well, with any luck-” Wynne started to say before noticing Aunn. “Oh, hello.”
 
“Are you two planning a trip?” Aunn asked curiously.
 
“Indeed we are,” Shale confirmed. “This may come as a surprise as I have always made my feelings about squishy creatures well-known but you’ve surprised me. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s possibly to be both a flesh creature and yet not all that squishy. I was a dwarf once and I’ve decided that I would like to try to become one again.”
 
“Shale and I are going to speak to the mages up at Minrathous,” Wynne added. “Perhaps they will have a way to turn her back, preferable without employing blood magic.”
 
“But I wouldn’t count on it,” Shale countered.
 
“The Tevinter swears up and down that they no longer practice blood magic,” Wynne insisted.
 
“Good for them,” Shale said dryly. “The blood slaver we met in the Alienage proves that there are blood mages running around there, though, so even if it is not allowed we could still find the information there.”
 
Wynne pursed her lips but said nothing.
 
“Why do you want to become a dwarf again?” Aunn asked curiously. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Dwarves are my favorite species ever and I think it’s great that you’ve decided this but I really don’t get why. Yes I and possibly other people have proven that you can still be tough and not be a golem but you already know that golems are tough as well.”
 
“I suppose…” Shale trailed off, putting her thoughts into order. “I suppose it is curiosity, really. I’ve been a golem for such a long time and I think I know all that there is to know about being a golem. Being a dwarf, however…the whole concept is still so novel and there are so many possibilities that I can see now that never would have even occurred to me before. I’ve spent a long time not changing and so it really is long past time that I try something new.”
 
“Well, I wish you all the best then,” Aunn said sincerely, wondering whether or not Shale and Wynne would actually be able to pull it off.
 
“Aunn, we probably won’t meet again unless I return and head off to Orzammar. Until we do meet again, I wish it well. It…no, you have been a fine friend.”
 
Aunn couldn’t help but smile at that. That was the first time Shale had referred to her as ‘you’ since she had chosen to side with Caridin at the Anvil. “You, as well.”
 
“I know we’ve never been on the best of terms,” Wynne spoke up hesitantly. Why did she always need to preface anything remotely positive she said to her with that? “But you did good here, Aunn. A Blight stopped and the other nations barely becoming aware…you just might have earned that title.” Coming from Wynne, that was an ebullient farewell full of well-wishings.
 
“Thank you,” Aunn replied simply.
 
Next up was Angélique who Aunn was also not looking forward to speaking to. Still, for all her silliness Angélique had more than carried her own weight during the final battle and so the least that Aunn could do was to spend five minutes talking to her.
 
“So you’ll never guess!” Angélique gushed. She was wearing easily the most extravagant gown there and Aunn thought that she had caught Leliana sending a few jealous looks Angélique’s way. Personally, she found the outfit to be utterly ridiculous but, then again, she had never really been fond of impractical clothing. What would she do if a fight broke out? Well, being a mage Angélique would probably be fine but if she were forced to rely on a sword and shield like most people than that elaborate getup would be a potentially fatal handicap.
 
“Probably not,” Aunn agreed, hoping that this wouldn’t drag on any longer than was absolutely necessary. “So why don’t you just tell me?”
 
“Oh, you’re no fun,” Angélique complained good-naturedly. “But fine. Teyrn…or should I say Arl Loghain saw me in the final battle and was so impressed that he’s letting me becoming a Warden! Isn’t that amazing! I wanted to be one way back when you and whoever it was came to the Tower but that was before my Harrowing so I couldn’t. Everyone loves the Wardens now and so it really is the best place for me.”
 
Aunn turned to shoot an incredulous look at Loghain who, when he noticed, merely shrugged. Aunn had never been more convinced that her decision to leave the Wardens was the right one. ‘Not ideal’ indeed. “I’m happy for you. Really.”
 
“So am I,” Angélique said happily. “It’s too bad Caunira’s not going to be joining as well as she’s really been there for me since Jowan cruelly abandoned me. I actually saw him, you know, on my way to Redcliffe. He was going by ‘Levyn’ and protecting a group of refugees from darkspawn but it was really obvious that it was him. Well, Senior Enchanter Sweeney didn’t seem to think so but he’s mostly blind anyway and it’s not like any of the apprentices with us had any idea who Jowan even was, let alone what he looked like. Now that I think of it, knowing Caunira she’d probably try to ruin all my fun so perhaps it’s for the best that she’s not going to be a Warden. I really have no idea what it’s like to be a Warden but I have been led to believe that it involves killing lots of darkspawn, which I’m very good at. And if we have our own Arling that means that I’ll get a chance to wear all sorts of wonderful clothes that will allow everyone to fully realize how gorgeous I am!”
 
“I’ll leave you to your planning,” Aunn said before quickly escaping to talk to Leliana. If those ‘wonderful clothes’ were anything like the ones that Angélique was currently wearing then she really didn’t want anything to do with the conversation and she could only hope that the fashionable Orlesian Leliana would not want to talk to her about how amazing Angélique’s clothes were because she honestly didn’t want to hear it.
 
“So here we are. The conquering heroine has won the day, and now she takes her bow and exits the stage. A fine ending,” Leliana pronounced grandly.
 
“You make it sound like we’re in a play or something,” Aunn replied.
 
“Aren’t we?” Leliana asked rhetorically. “This is just the sort of epic tale that audiences love. Daring adventures, triumph against impossible odds, a whole host of interesting characters…really, the only thing that would have made this any better would be a love story.”
 
Aunn laughed. “You know, Leliana, it’s not like I was the only female in the group. If you really had your heart set on a love story, you could have sought out Alistair yourself. Or hey, what about Zevran?”
 
“Oh, Zevran’s all talk,” Leliana said, her tone sounding confident enough that Aunn suspected she had some sort of firsthand knowledge. “And Alistair and I wouldn’t be good together. Neither one of us would have the heart to make the other face up to reality if we loved one another and we both desperately needed to do that. Still, it would have been nice if Morrigan were more open to my advances. And I personally think that the ‘Hero of Ferelden’ ending up with the cute redhead with an adorable accent would have been a nice ending as well but tragically you have absolutely no feeling for a good story.”
 
“I was a little busy, what with the Blight-stopping and ally-saving,” Aunn said wryly. “Besides, you’re the bard; worrying about those kinds of things are your responsibility.”
 
“I guess,” Leliana conceded. “Speaking of, I thought you should know that I’m halfway through composing a ballad of our epic adventures. While it was very tempting to write of the stirring yet ultimately doomed love story between you and Alistair, I realized that he’s the king now and angering royalty may not be the best plan…”
 
“I wouldn’t be pleased either,” Aunn pointed out.
 
“Oh, you’re all talk as well,” Leliana said dismissively.
 
Aunn mock-glared at her and Leliana just laughed. “So what are you planning on doing now that this is over?” Aunn wondered.
 
“Oh, this and that,” Leliana said vaguely. “I’m going to be busy for a very long time now, I can tell. The Chantry asked me to lead the first expedition up to secure the Urn of Sacred Ashes. They really do need to be protected, you know. And when I get down with that then Anora would like for me to lead another expedition…this time to the Deep Roads to study the darkspawn. The broodmothers, in particular, are of interest and we really don’t know much about them. I daresay that I’ll see you while I’m down there.”
 
“Are you sure that’s the safest thing to do?” Aunn asked dubiously.
 
“No,” Leliana admitted. “But it is a challenge and I’m going to be about as well protected down there as I can be. You wouldn’t let the thought that you could be captured and forced into becoming a broodmother stop you from going down into the Deep Roads if you so desired to, would you?”
 
Aunn shook her head. “Point. Though at this point I can’t imagine anything that would make me want to spend time down there.”
 
Leliana shrugged. “To each her own. I’ll be as careful as I can be, I promise. But you know what they say: nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
 
The very next person she saw was Anastasia Cousland beaming and standing beside a man that looked a great deal like her. He looked vaguely familiar and after a moment Aunn placed him as Anastasia’s older brother, Fergus. Loghain had mentioned that he was there but it was still a little strange to think that he was still alive after all this time.
 
“I guess I really should have paid more attention that one time we met way back before any of this started,” Fergus began. “Who would have thought that you’d turn out to be a big hero?”
 
“Well, if everyone else was going to die then I was kind of obligated to step up,” Aunn joked. “So what happened to you? Your sister’s been worried.”
 
Fergus turned pained eyes to Anastasia. “I know and I’m sorry for that. I was attacked by a large group of darkspawn shortly before the battle began. Everyone else in my scouting party was killed but I was found by Chasind. They…weren’t particularly keen to let me leave and so that, combined with my injuries, conspired to keep me in the Korcari Wilds for far more months than I would have preferred.”
 
“Or so he claims,” Anastasia countered. “Personally, I’m leaning towards ‘I was enjoying being pampered and didn’t feel like leaving’.”
 
“You have no faith in me,” Fergus complained.
 
“After the way you just gave away an Arling like that?” Anastasia asked rhetorically. “I should think not!”
 
“You’re talking about Amaranthine, I take it?” Aunn ventured a guess.
 
“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” Fergus defended. “I mean, until I know conclusively who was involved in Howe’s plotting I didn’t want to risk promoting a bann that was privy to the knowledge of what was going to happen to us and it’s not like I can really just leave the Arling unclaimed. The Wardens just saved us, anyway, so they might as well take the Arling.”
 
“The Order tried to send an Orlesian to rule,” Anastasia pointed out.
 
“And Anora turned them down and put her father in the position,” Fergus reminded her. “And I think that we can be reasonably sure that Loghain will take his duties very seriously and not be secretly taking orders from Orlais.”
 
“I suppose…” Anastasia said, still not sounding thrilled at the prospect. Unlike her brother, she’d actually been in the city to see Loghain and Howe as thick as thieves before Aunn had killed him literally the day before the Landsmeet. Still, she didn’t seem inclined to make a big fuss about it.
 
“I wanted to thank you, Aunn,” Fergus said, suddenly turning serious. “Not just for saving Ferelden and ending the Blight which I know that everyone else has been thanking you for but thank you so much for killing that bastard Howe. I wish so much that I could have been there but knowing that he died a good many weeks before I would have gotten the chance to challenge him makes it worth it, I think.”
 
Aunn felt awkward at the mention of that. She didn’t really have a personal Howe. The closest she could get was Bhelen and she couldn’t imagine ever thanking somebody else for having killed her brother. She simply nodded curtly and moved on to speak with Zevran.
 
“It’s strange to be standing here among all the pomp and pageantry and yet not be planning on assassinating somebody,” Zevran mused. “Especially as I can see all of the ways that I might accomplish it if I were interested and realize that anyone else who might be looking to plan an assassination right now could see the same things that I am.”
 
“Lucky for us that you’re on hand to help prevent any ‘unfortunate accidents’ from occurring, huh?” Aunn asked rhetorically.
 
Zevran said nothing.
 
“Zevran!”
 
“What?” Zevran asked innocently. “For a small fee I would be glad to help keep your people alive. Come to think of it, I should probably mention that to Alistair and see if he’s interested. I think I managed to sufficiently scare him with stories of the Crows. Or maybe Anora. A woman like that, she’s the type that could probably use a good assassin, I can tell.”
 
“Is business all you can think about?” Aunn asked with faux-annoyance.
 
“It pays to always focus on your next job as a freelancer, or so I’ve come to understand,” Zevran explained. “With Taliesin and your Arl Howe dead and Loghain no longer interested in pursuing your death, I think I can safely say that I’m no longer looking to kill you and with the Blight over I really should start looking for a new job.”
 
“I should hope you’re not still out to kill,” Aunn teased. “Because otherwise you’ve got the patience of Stone or you’re just really really bad at it.”
 
“Either’s a possibility, really,” Zevran claimed. “I am but one in the long list of people who have tried and failed to kill you. It’s quite annoying.”
 
“Sorry about that.” Aunn paused as something occurred to her. “Wait…you said that Taliesin was dead? Taliesin, your friend in the Crows that you thought was going to come after you? When did this happen?”
 
“On our way to the Alienage,” Zevran said, giving her an odd look. “Oh, right! You weren’t there. Well, he ambushed Alistair, announced that he was going to try to kill him, offered to let me come back to the Crows and make up some sort of story if I helped, then we all killed him. Pretty much what you’d expect.”
 
“I guess a belated ‘thank you for not betraying us for the chance to go back to the Crows’ is in order, then,” Aunn observed.
 
Zevran laughed. “Please. If I were convinced that returning to the Crows was preferable to being in your company, Aunn, then I daresay you would have deserved to be assassinated.”
 
“So I’m more pleasant to be around than an organization of slaving assassins that views everyone as disposable and is allergic to affection,” Aunn summarized. “Good to know. So, since you are free of them – for the moment – what are you planning on doing?”
 
Zevran frowned. “I haven’t really decided. I may stick around here for awhile but then I might like to go travelling. Going to kill you was my first time out of Antiva, you know, and I think I’d really like to see the world. Hmm. Perhaps Par Vollen first? The qunari are pleasant folk, I hear. And then I could always look up Isabela again before she retires and hands the name off.”
 
“Hands the name off?” Aunn asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
 
“Ah, Isabela has got this strange notion that it would be fun to watch her pirating name continue to grow in power and notoriety so that when she’s done being a pirate captain, she’ll dismiss her current crew, find a new captain for her ship, stay on as the first mate and refer to the new woman as Pirate Isabela, and then retire to live out the rest of her days in obscene luxury,” Zevran informed her. “I have no idea whether or not she’s really going to do it but it would certainly be interesting, no?”
 
“I guess that’s one word for it,” Aunn agreed before going over to talk to Sten. Trian was laying by the giant qunari and Aunn absently scratched behind his ears. Imprinted or not, she wasn’t sure that Orzammar would be the best place for a mabari but she would hate to leave him behind.
 
“Where is the cake?” he demanded. “I was told that there would be cake here.”
 
“I think they’re bringing that out later,” Aunn said. “After the coronation dinner.”
 
“There is a coronation dinner we must sit through first?” Sten asked, annoyed. “They should just get the cake over and done with.”
 
Aunn shrugged. “Perhaps but I guess we’ll have to put up with them doing it a different way.”
 
“It is good to see you again, Kadan,” Sten said, almost warmly for him. “This may well be the last time that we do as I leave for Par Vollen tomorrow.”
 
“I’m glad that you have an opportunity to go home,” Aunn told him sincerely. “Because I really do understand the feeling of wanting to be able to return but finding yourself unable to.”
 
Sten nodded. “Let us be glad that we can both return to our people. I have my sword and I have my answer for the Arishok.”
 
“And, almost more importantly, you have several pastry recipes,” Aunn added.
 
Sten nodded again, looking solemn. “Indeed. I am not entirely sure how introducing these recipes to my people will change things but I can only believe that it will be for the better.”
 
“What’s this? Are you turning into an optimist, Sten?” Aunn asked curious.
 
“Perhaps,” Sten said indifferently. “As I have just watched the Blight ended by people who had appeared to be inviting the darkspawn to kill them all, a little optimism is to be expected.”
 
The last person that Aunn really needed to speak to was Oghren who was, surprisingly, not drinking. Well, not drinking yet as she knew he’d never make it through the celebration without imbibing something alcoholic.
 
“Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought. Heh. The ale up here is actually good,” Oghren marveled.
 
Aunn laughed. “Why do you think nobles always import their alcohol?”
 
Oghren thought about that for a second. “Point. I guess I always figured it was just because they could.”
 
“That too,” Aunn conceded. “So what are you planning on doing now? While I may love Orzammar to perhaps an unreasonable degree, I somehow don’t see you being all that eager to go back there?”
 
“They’ve probably branded me a Surfacer by now anyway,” Oghren said dismissively. “And even if they haven’t because I helped end the Blight, I’m not really feeling all that nostalgic. What about you? They’re rescinding your exile?”
 
“And they’re making me the head of House Aeducan,” Aunn informed him.
 
“I suppose that makes sense since you killed your brothers,” Oghren remarked. Upon seeing her glare, he hastily amended his previous statement. “Brother! Since you killed your brother.”
 
“And they’re considering making me a Paragon!” Aunn exclaimed.
 
“A Paragon, huh?” Oghren asked slowly. “Let me offer you a piece of advice then, Princess. If you hear any disembodied voices coming from a tool you use in your work – like a sword in your case, or a container of poison – then do us all a favor and just tune it out. You’ll save everyone a lot of trouble that way.”
 
“I will, Oghren,” Aunn vowed, barely managing to keep a straight face. 
 
“And...” Oghren hesitated. “Since we're more or less done adventuring for now, I wanted to say... you're all right. Only a dwarf could have done all that, after all.”
 
“Well naturally,” Aunn agreed. “Can you just imagine a human or an elf trying to end the Blight? Or a qunari?”
 
“Take care of yourself,” Oghren told her.
 
“Will do,” Aunn promised.
 
And then there was nothing to do but go out to face her adoring public. Really, despite its inauspicious start, this had turned out to be a good year.

[Sarah1281]

Numphaios wrote...

Though I have only read the best parts (my apologies, I rarely read fanfiction from beginning to end), I liked this story very much! I admired Aunn's reasoning: adversely self-conscious and impersonal. Thank you for writing this! I intend to read it entirely, now. Am I right in assuming a lot of research and self-debate went into this? A lot of effort, certainly.

P.S. May edit this post with more compliments as I read...

I'm glad you liked it.

Aunn tries to keep it as practical as possible but nobody's perfect and sometimes (particularly when it came to Orzammar) more personal things get in the way.

I've been around these boards for several months now and have therefore seen and debated quite the range of topics which definitely helped in thinking these things through as well as liberal use of the DA wiki and toolset.

[Sarah1281]

The toolset has all sorts of information on characters like a moderately-lengthened description of them, rough age estimate (though for some like Alistair who it lists as in his thirties it's obviously wrong), most of the game dialogue (though for some reason never anything from Lord or Lady Helmi), and the VO notes. It makes looking up things that you aren't sure about - a character's manner unique manner of speaking, for instance - far easier than having to go back into the game and replaying that section.

[Sarah1281]

Epilogue: Five Years Later


Aunn had always known that this was a possibility. Everyone had always known that this was a possibility from the moment she was born although it had seemed more likely at some parts and outright impossible at others. The fact that this day had happened wasn’t quite so surprising as the way that it had. It would have been nice and simple and, dare she say it, common if Trian had died before their father had – like he did – and she hadn’t been blamed or if Trian had lived but the Assembly had preferred her anyway. For this to happen after she’d been exiled and sentenced to death but escaped her destiny and became a Grey Warden who ended a Blight, crowned two monarchs, and became a Paragon…well, she supposed there were less conventional ways to the throne. Eithnar Bemot who had been a commoner who had become a Paragon and king in one move and Gherlon the Blood-Risen who, though no one liked to admit it, had been a casteless who had done the same after heading up to the Surface.
 
Still, while hers might not be the most unexpected it certainly ranked up there. As it happened, just the fact that someone so high-born in the ruling family of Orzammar had had such a convoluted path to taking the throne was probably the strangest thing about the entire matter. If she had been from a different family – say the Helmis, she’d always liked them – or a member of a lower caste, even a casteless, her difficulties would have been more expected.
 
Aunn’s second return to Orzammar five years ago had been a far more joyous occasion than her first had been. There hadn’t been anyone who had called her exile or been openly hostile, her enemies were all either dead or worried she’d go on a noble-killing spree again, and the rebellion had at least stopped being quite so open even if Harrowmont were still facing it. Her own house, though many in it had died in the rebellion, had decided to support her as she was a hero now and being considered for Paragonhood and they all knew how to switch allegiances when it became convenient. That was how they had remained on top for so long, after all. Harrowmont had initially been quite opposed to allowing the aid from Anora and Alistair into the city because the rebellion had just stopped being so public and he feared the disruption allowing humans to pass through the city would cause. Aunn was determined, though, and had the support of several key Assembly members on the issue so Harrowmont eventually relented but required guards to keep watch over them as they headed to the Deep Roads. It had taken so long to change his mind that the Ferelden troops that had deployed a few weeks after Aunn had left Denerim had been waiting outside the gates of Orzammar for two entire days.
 
The Assembly deliberated for months but eventually unanimously voted that she become a living Paragon. Instead of forming her own house, however, Aunn had chosen to stay with the Aeducans as being their head would give her far more power than starting her own house and it wasn’t like she’d have any children of her own to make the house last past one generation. Aunn had briefly wondered why, if everyone was so agreeable to the idea, it had taken so long to confirm it but then the Assembly never liked to move quickly. It was part of why they were in so much trouble.
 
Once Aunn’s eyes had been opened up to problems facing her people – well, the non-darkspawn problems – she had found that it had been impossible to close them again. Openly lamenting the fate of the casteless like Lord Helmi did would have been political suicide but she had been working on the issue and gaining power enough to change things even a little seemed like the best way to go about it. That, combined with the guilt and general feeling of wrongness she’d had since taking her house out of power in the first place, was why she’d turned her attention to succeeding Lord Harrowmont.
 
It hadn’t been exceedingly difficult. She was the daughter of a previous king, the only living Paragon, the head of House Aeducan, the ender of a Blight, and a favorite of King Harrowmont who had no living children of his own. No, finally taking the throne wasn’t the difficult part. It would be ruling that would prove the hard part and Aunn wondered how she’d do. Harrowmont hadn’t gotten much done with Bhelen’s rebellion still lurking about besides increased isolation from the Surface which could easily be undone. After five long years, however, the rebellion really had declined into just a minor annoyance and one of these days they’d have to face facts and realize that the long-dead Bhelen was just never going to be king. Bhelen…Aunn had also spent a lot of time wondering what kind of king he would have made. He would have been a reformer, she thought, had he been able to make the Assembly bow to his will. And who knew? He’d pulled off other impressive feats so he might have been able to manage it. Aunn rather thought that her rule would be better than Harrowmont’s ineffectuality but not as good as Bhelen’s best-case-scenario rule. It was far too late for regrets, though.
 
And today was the day. Harrowmont had passed away quietly in his sleep after a period of declining health exactly a week ago. As had always happened with nobles whose cause of death wasn’t violent, poison was suspected. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn’t, it was hardly Aunn’s job to personally inspect his food and drink. The stress of the kingship couldn’t have helped matters either. What Aunn did know was that she’d miss him despite knowing full well that Orzammar couldn’t really afford any more of his stagnation. Three days ago, the Assembly had voted to confirm her as Harrowmont’s successor. The vote hadn’t been unanimous but it had gone through. She’d have to keep an eye on those that had voted against her. And even those that hadn’t, come to think of it, because for better or for worse this was Orzammar.
 
Now, sitting around and waiting for Gorim to come fetch her for the official coronation – not just her initial crowning upon being voted queen – to start, Aunn couldn’t decide if she was excited enough given the circumstances. She was a little pleased because, after all, she’d been working towards this end for years but on the other…this was not going to be a fun job. It would be a lot of responsibility and stress and would remind her too sodding much of her father and brothers. Still, there was no backing out now.
 
Five-year-old little Endrin had no such concerns and was running around the room sword-fighting an invisible opponent with a quill he’d found lying around. “Take that, evil darkspawn! And that! And that!” He was really the spitting image of his father at that age though with a smaller nose and a different hairstyle. It was a little worrying, to be honest, but Aunn kept firmly reminding herself that Endrin was not Bhelen and wouldn’t be plotting to kill her for at least another decade or so.
 
His mother, Rica, was attempting to chase him down. “Endrin, dear, don’t run! You’re going to knock something over!”
 
Aunn could help, she supposed, but she was enjoying the sight and the distraction too much to bother.
 
Endrin dived behind her chair. “Hide me, Auntie Aunn!”
 
Aunn winced. “Don’t call me ‘Auntie’.”
 
Endrin looked as adorably puzzled as he always did when she made that request…which was virtually every time he called her that. “But…you are my auntie.”
 
For that, Aunn fully blamed Rica who failed to hide her smirk at the exchange. Once Rica had realized that Aunn wasn’t going to force her or her son back to Dust Town, Rica had warmed to her…slightly. She still resented her for killing Bhelen but at least she was usually quiet about it. Aunn wouldn’t have really minded being called ‘Aunt Aunn’ but Rica had decided that since her first name was only one syllable, it was better to call her ‘Auntie.’ Aunn hated that word. Once Rica had found out about her aversion to it, that appellation was there to stay and Endrin was too young to realize that she hated it. Aunn was well aware that a noble’s relatives usually didn’t have much to do with them until they were older and more ‘interesting’ but Endrin was the only actual family that Aunn had had left and she had found that she really didn’t mind small children so much if she could hand them off to their mother if they got too sticky or smelly. Besides, Endrin was her ward since his father was dead and his mother was casteless so she could spend every waking moment with him if she so chose…not that she was that fond of him, though.
 
“I’d love to hide you,” Aunn told him seriously. “But at this point I fear it may be a lost cause. Your mother saw you get behind there.”
 
Sure enough, Rica reached behind the chair and pulled her squirming son out. “You know that today is a very important day,” she said sternly. “And you need to be on your best behavior, okay? Otherwise there will be no dessert and you’ll have to go to bed early.”
 
“I don’t want to go to bed early,” Endrin complained. “And I can’t eat without dessert!”
 
“Then behave,” Rica said simply. “Do you think you can do that?”
 
Endrin seemed to seriously consider the matter. “No promises.”
 
Endrin was a very bright child which Aunn desperately needed him to be. In addition to the fact that he was her only heir and so he’d need to be able to survive any assassination attempt that came his way, head up House Aeducan, and probably become king himself someday, he’d need to do it sooner than Aunn would like. She was twenty-nine now and every year brought her closer to her eventual Calling. It was always possible someone up at Weisshaupt or Avernus could come up with some way to extend the Grey Warden lifespan before it was her time to go but she hadn’t heard anything yet.
 
Though the Calling was technically supposed to be thirty years away from the Joining and thus hit heard in her early fifties, most of the people she had seen pass through the city on their way to their own Calling were in their forties. Aunn didn’t know how much time she had and though her Calling wouldn’t take her by surprise, Endrin needed to be ready to take over and there was every chance he’d still be in his late teens when that time came. Aunn would, of course, put it off as long as she could but there was really only so long she could ignore the taint consuming her. It made her feel a little guilty to become queen only to have such a short rule but since she’d stopped Bhelen from becoming king and ruling for perhaps decades, she felt obligated to try and fix at least some small part of it.
 
And Bhelen’s son would be king. He’d be pleased at that, she thought.
 
The door opened and Gorim stood there, beckoning to her. “It’s time, my lady.”
 
Aunn rose and went to go meet her fate.

[Raonar]

Ok, so I started writing a review on FF.net, and then I must have pressed enter or backspace when I shouldn't have, because it ended up submitting the unfinished thing.



SO, after I went all logical on her chances to make things better, I was GOING to say that it's good someone finally came up with a fitting ending that doesn't completely handwave the warden. I mean, the epilogue says you become a paragon and all that, but you seem to have absolutely NO say in what happens to the city.



So, since you're not going to have Aunn be in Amaranthine, I'll assume you won't be writing anything on Awakening... or will you? I noticed that a certain other reviewer on FF.net said she wanted to see how on earth Loghain and Angelique could coexist, if at all.

[Sarah1281]

I'm glad you liked it.  Not that my planned ending for the character was why I absolutely had to kill Bhelen off or anything. After the way she just wouldn't particularly care about the things that didn't involve Orzammar (though she did try to make the best decisions she could) I couldn't really see her doing anything else.

At some point after I get around to reading the books (which I now have access to but currently lack the time to read) I am, in fact, planning on having Loghain and Angélique in Awakening. She's not in charge, of course, but she still will probably make Logahin rue the day he offered her a place in the ranks.

I foresee a lot of "At least it's not Oralis, at least it's not Oralis..."

[Sarah1281]

Gorim and Aunn before all of this started.

[mousestalker]

What a great picture!