438 réponses à ce sujet

[Addai]

Mwahaha! Glad you are hooked despite one of the protagonists, Maria.

[Maria13]

You're evil, EVIL, but this sooooo well written...

[Esbatty]

*shakes fist* Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooowe!!!!!!!!!

[The-Rogue-Princess]

Oh no,Cutha!!!

[Esbatty]

*taps vein*

C'mon, baby I gots the shakes... I do all d'ose things you like. C'mon, just a taste, some kinda scowling Loghain or something. Anything. I'm good for it, ya know I am. *hugs self, teeth chattering*

[Maria13]

Hang on there Esbat....

I think Addai must be refining the product...

[Esbatty]

Maria13 wrote...

Hang on there Esbat....

I think Addai must be refining the product...

LOL, oh good times, M. Refining... nice. lol

[alschemid]

oh... Maker!
I was so happy when I've received the email telling me the thread had a new post... after all those days, and it is just Esbatty's addiction kicking in!

Modifié par alschemid, 23 avril 2011 - 04:15 .

[Maria13]

Yes, we're all getting a little jumpy, a little angsty...

[Addai]

LOL Esbatty's Loghain fanboyism is a delight to behold.

Next chapter is in the works, I promise. I hope to publish in the next couple days.

[Esbatty]

Yay. Now I don't have to write the story of Warden Loghain's arrival in Montimissard.

[Addai]

Chapter 27

29 Bloomingtide, 9:30 Dragon Age.

Drawing her hair up into a ponytail, Ellie came into the morning room and found Loghain and Gareth sitting side by side at the breakfast table. It was late and a full morning sun shone in through the open shutters. She had never been an early riser, but since the events of her life were turned upside down, had found it harder and harder to get up. Mumbling a listless "good morning," she crossed to the teapot.

Loghain watched her as she poured. "I found him alone at the table eating from the sugar bowl. Where is Anya?"

Ellie shrugged. "It must have been my turn to wake with him. I forgot." There would normally have been staff enough to see to the boy even without his parents or nurse, but the elven housekeeper and gardener had not returned after their ordeal, and Ellie had not had time to replace them. The usual bustle of the small house had fallen eerily still.

Gareth hadn't spoken, but as Ellie turned with tea in hand, he smiled at her and the reason for his quiet became apparent. The orb of a boiled egg had been shoved whole into his mouth and peered out at her. Her black mood could not prevent a smirk. "I see you managed to make breakfast."

Loghain glanced at Gareth. "Made, yes. Eaten, apparently not." He gave the boy a playful cuff, then rested an arm on his chair and turned back to Ellie.

He looked about to say something, but she cut him off. "I'm going out to the garden. Gareth, come out when you're finished. Don't wake Anya. She obviously needs the sleep."

His mouth full of egg, Gareth gave a theatrical nod. Loghain called after her, "Don't forget the hearing this afternoon."

Ellie stopped in the doorway. There was to be a hearing of the seneschal to look into the matter of Rendon Howe's occupation of Highever and his accusations of treason against the Couslands. It was a farce, engineered by Howe, who had warned Ellie that he could not guarantee her safe passage if she were to travel to Highever. She had no evidence to present to counter him. "Is there any reason for me to go?"

There was a pause, then Loghain answered with a frustrated wave, "Do what you want."

What she wanted at that moment was to be wrist deep in compost. The absence of their gardener gave Ellie a good excuse to get out of the house. It didn't make the hurt and anger go away, but it lowered their sting to a dull ache. In the foyer she set her tea aside and strapped on a swordbelt, the hilt of her dwarven-made halfsword gleaming dully from it. Even when at home, Ellie had taken to wearing leathers and kept swords and daggers close. Loghain's soldiers had replaced Howe's at the entrances, but the crest of Amaranthine was everywhere to be seen in Denerim, and she felt almost as much a prisoner as she had been before her husband returned from the south.

The garden had been thoroughly trampled by Howe's men, but slowly she was bringing it back to some sort of order. As Ellie set to repairing a trestle, her eyes fell on the mound a few paces away. She and Gareth had made a little shrine at its head of Cutha's food dish, his harness, and a hide ball that had escaped being chewed to bits. With heavy steps, Ellie walked over to the mound and sank to her knees. Numbly she stared at the turned earth, packed carefully around Cutha's corpse. She had not been able to bring herself to dig the hound up and give him a proper pyre, as would befit a warrior. Nevertheless the humble burial shrine was still more than she could do for her parents and brother.

"I'm sorry, old friend," Ellie murmured. "I'm so sorry." Her eyes were dry, but inside there was a void of loneliness and guilt that made her wish that the earth would open up to swallow her, too.

Some time later she realized that Gareth had come up behind and was watching her. Turning, she wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him closer. "Is Cutha with the Maker now, mamma?"

"I don't know, pet. I hope so. If there are hounds with the Maker, then no doubt Cutha is there, chasing butterflies in some green, sunny place."

"With Uncle Fergus?"

A shock of pain constricted Ellie's throat, and wetness finally sprung into her eyes. Much as she mourned her parents, it was a bitter outrage that her sweet brother had also had to die after surviving Howe's treachery. The Maker had much to answer for, but this was the worst. Struggling to contain her grief for Gareth's sake, she answered, "Yes. They would be together, wouldn't they? All of them." All of them but me. But for her son, she would have wished it otherwise. He was the reason she kept both despair and her thirst for vengeance at bay. Pulling him closer, she hugged him tightly against her side. "My good boy."

Gareth reached out a stubby finger and poked at her cheek gently with it. "Don't cry, mamma."

It only made more tears fall, but she brushed at her cheek to whisk them away. "It's alright to cry, Gareth. But let's get to work, shall we? Are you going to help me dig?" He nodded vigorously, the brown curls that had grown too long flopping on his forehead. Ellie smiled more genuinely as she got to her feet. "Right then. Let's get to it."

For no reason that she could consciously form, Ellie did clean herself up and go to the palace to attend the seneschal hearing. It played out much as she had expected. Howe dragged in several "witnesses" that he claimed were servants of her family, who told of Orlesian visitors, of Bryce Cousland's trips to Orlais, and of overhearing conversations denigrating the crown. When they were finished, Ellie stood and demanded the floor. The seneschal exchanged a look with Howe, then reluctantly allowed her to speak. With only a few pointed questions, Ellie was able to demonstrate that the "witnesses" had not even a passing acquaintance with her family's routines. One of them finally admitted that he had only been a journeyman and not a daily presence in the castle at all.

In the end, it had made no difference. Once they had had many friends, but those who might have spoken up for the Couslands had stayed away. Too many had died, there was too much uncertainty about the future, and most of those left standing simply accepted as fait accompli that the fortunes of the Couslands had irreparably fallen. If not even Teyrn Loghain would speak up for them, then it would not do for lesser men to stick their necks out. Other than guard, few people even attended what would otherwise have been an explosive and controversial occasion. Loghain sat at the front of the chamber, in the seat that Cailan or Anora might otherwise have occupied. Across from him on the dais sat Howe, acting as accuser. Howe had asked most of the questions. Loghain did not speak. Anora was nowhere to be seen.

The seneschal made a show of looking through his notes, and finally looked up to address the nearly empty chamber. "The charges of treason against the Cousland family are grave but inconclusive. War is upon our land, and it necessarily curtails the powers of this office. Until such time as a more thorough investigation can be undertaken, we make no challenge to the claim of Rendon Howe upon the teyrnir of Highever with all its rents and obligations. If there is nothing else..." The man looked pointedly at Howe.

Rendon stood, folding his hands. "There is indeed another matter which sadly must be brought to the attention of the court." At this, Ellie noticed that Loghain looked up sharply and stared at Howe. Though neither spoke, she saw that something passed between the two men. Eventually Howe turned back to the seneschal and smiled apologetically. "But it can wait. I have nothing further."

Ellie rose and departed, slamming the chamber doors behind her as she left. She walked at a fast clip, ignoring any who spoke to her in the hallway, but slowed as she reached the great oaken doors, graven with hounds rampant, that led to the throne room. It took a great effort to move the ancient oak. Ellie slipped inside and through the dark antechamber into the main hall. Her boots echoed as she slowly approached the dais. The throne, also hardwood and set with hounds rampant, was humble compared to the great crystal and gemstone affair she had seen in Val Royeux. Gazing up at it, Ellie pictured it occupied not by Cailan, but by Maric.

"You should be here," she told the ghost in the empty chair. Everything would be different if Maric had lived. Loghain would be standing at his right hand, not vying with a madman and with his daughter for the void at the center of power. All she could imagine was the lost king, golden hair streaked with silver, smiling sadly but mutely down at her. Ellie turned away from the vision, and found a mercifully empty hallway in which to escape.

Loghain did not return for dinner that evening, and when Gareth was put to bed, Anya and Alun tried to cheer Ellie up with a game of cards. Eventually they, too, went to bed. After the guardsman returned with Loghain from Ostagar, it was accepted as a matter of course that he would be posted full-time to the residence. Ellie had given Alun his own room, but this had not been necessary. As it turned out, Anya's room suited him just fine.

Ellie sat at the parlor table while the candle burned down, her mind turning over and over. When the flame was but a weak flicker in a pool of wax, she heard the door open. Loghain appeared at the parlor doorway soon after. She glanced up. "Have you eaten? I made soup. It's not very good."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes. When you work, you don't eat or sleep for days. It's quite a feat." This was the closest they had come to conversation in days, and though Ellie tried to warn herself against it, she felt all the words pressing to be said. She could not play the stoic game like her husband and son could. As Loghain approached and took a seat next to her, she asked, "What is going on between you and Howe?"

"'Going on'?" he repeated, his voice guarded.

"Yes. Howe was going to say something to the seneschal, and then he looked at you and backed off. What was that about?"

Loghain lifted a shoulder. "He had said enough. He ought to be content with things as they are."

"And how are they?" Ellie turned in her chair to face him. "Are you going to let this stand? Tell me you're not going to confirm him as Teyrn of Highever, you and Anora."

His face was a grim mask. "You forgot Arl of Denerim."

"What? Why?" Ellie's voice was dismayed and pleading. "Loghain, Maker's breath! He murdered my family. My family. Don't you care about that at all? You're going to let him steal my birthright, too?"

Loghain looked up, tone sharpening. "What choice do I have? Ellie, the man holds the North now. His men are dug in at Highever and control the two largest ports. They're all over the capital, too. I don't have enough men to fight him here and in the north, not with the Orlesians threatening and the darkspawn too." He paused and regarded her, shaking his head. "After the country is safe, when all this has settled down, then we can see to Howe."

Ellie leaned forward on her elbows, pressing her hands to her eyes. "I keep thinking I am going to wake up. This has to be a bad dream."

A large, roughened hand closed over one of hers, holding it. "You are my wife. No one will touch you, not Howe or anyone. I know how hard this must be for you..."

"Do you?" Ellie dropped her hands, and Loghain released her hand, sitting back. "Have you really thought about this, Loghain? You lost your mother. What would you do if the men responsible were right in front of you and you had a sword in your hand?"

He shook his head. "Don't talk like that, Ellie. Don't do anything foolish. Howe is a powerful man now, and he has been winning friends at court, making promises. I can control him, but everyone is on a thin edge right now. If you go about brandishing your vengeance, it would be a disaster for everyone. We can't afford to fight each other. Think about Gareth."

"I think about him every minute of every day."

Loghain nodded, his voice mollifying. "And so do I. Both of you. I know you can't see it right now, but I am doing this for you."

Ellie stood, hugging her waist with her arms as she paced. The pain was exquisite. Howe had hurt her in ways she had never imagined possible, but Loghain was driving the knife deeper. She had lost her entire family, and he was going to leave her alone, too, and insist she ought to be grateful for it.

Eventually Loghain stood and came to face her, his hands on her arms stopping her in her steps. "There is a meeting of the banns tomorrow, all who answered my summons. I don't expect you to come, but it would be better if you did. And better if you did not bring up the matter of Highever."

She glanced up at him, frowning. "A Landsmeet?"

"Not a Landsmeet. There is not a quorum for that."

"But you want me to stand beside Howe so that no one will question his new titles." Her tone was bitter.

"I want you to stand as Teyrna of Gwaren and as a Fereldan. We need their armies, and we will not get them if the banns are torn apart by divided loyalties. And I don't want there to be any question about you, despite Howe's accusations against your family." When Ellie remained silent, Loghain sighed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. His hand brushed over her hair, the signet ring catching. "Elissa, please just trust me. I will get us through this. I wish..." His voice trailed off.

Ellie let him hold her, and it eased the piercing in her gut, but it was still all wrong. Everything was wrong. It was like the men who had come back from Ostagar only to succumb to darkspawn sickness. They had managed to contain it so that it did not spread in the city, but to her it felt as though everything and everyone was tainted, even the warmth of her husband's nearness. Especially that. She was too weary to fight, however.

Pulling back, she looked up at him sadly. "You will regret this, and not only for my sake." He let her go then, and did not follow.

The following day she went to the palace for the gathering of banns, but as Ellie neared the Landsmeet chamber, her footsteps slowed. Nobles milled about in the hallway. Some of them she recognized had visibly avoided her, others cast glances at her and it was obvious they were whispering amongst themselves. The rules had changed, and Ellie did not know how to play the game any longer. All her moves were traps. If she didn't speak, the banns would take it as acquiescence to Howe's claim on her family's land. If she spoke out about Howe, it might force Loghain to act publicly against him, but there was no guarantee that enough banns would speak up on behalf of the Couslands. Bryce was well-liked, but dead was dead, and Loghain was right that the occupation of the north was already a matter of fact. Without an army, Howe could not be dislodged. There were not enough of those to go around. She could neither speak, nor could she stomach to stand silent. There was one Cousland left alive, but she was a ghost.

Ellie turned to go back the way she came, and in so doing brushed against several guard that were heading towards the Landsmeet chamber. She mumbled an apology and walked on, but after a moment stopped and looked back. A ghost she might be, but a ghost's place was to haunt. There was a guard station nearby. Ellie ducked into it and emerged a few minutes later dressed in palace guard armor, a full helm hiding her face. Thus dressed, she slipped into the Landsmeet chamber and took her place among the row of guards.

Attendance was thin. The banns had either not had time to answer Loghain's summons, were otherwise occupied, or had refused him. Judging by the talk Ellie could overhear, it might well have been the latter. The banns and their ladies were disquiet. The name "Ostagar" was murmured, countered by "Orlesians." Some of them had received their summons by Lieutenant Riven along with a conscription writ demanding troops to man the border passes. Such forced drafts were never popular, and it was not yet clear whether the Orlesians were a real threat. There had been no word as of then from Gherlen Pass.

Loghain emerged in the gallery with Anora just behind him, and the murmur of voices stilled. Without preamble he launched into a description of the threats facing them and a demand for troops to fill the ranks emptied by Ostagar. Anora said nothing, only stood back wringing her hands. Ellie had never seen her so timid. As Loghain spoke, the murmurs in the assembly started again. The banns did not ever take kindly to royal decree. Someone spoke aloud, challenging Loghain about the army lost at Ostagar and his retreat. For a long, tense moment no one spoke, but all eyes were on Loghain, including Anora's and Ellie's. Ellie recalled the empty throne she had gazed upon the day before. Maric had always immensity of its burden, but all of it was now on one man. All of Ferelden and not only the entire chamber was looking to him.

Perhaps Loghain himself was realizing this for the first time, for though Ellie expected that he would speak up again in answer to the bann's challenge, he only remained silent. She looked around. The murmuring was picking up again, and there were scowls on most of the faces near her. This would not do. He was going to let the challenge against him stand unanswered and insist on obedience to his decree anyway, though none of the fears in the crowd had been quieted. Instinctively Ellie took a step forward. She had to intervene, to reason with the banns as one of their own. Before she could remove the guard helmet to speak, however, she remembered. She was a ghost. They would no more listen to her now than to Loghain.

In her hesitation, the moment passed, and nobles began leaving the chamber with sullen grumbles about the trip to Denerim being a waste of time. A few had sharper words than that. Anora also seemed to realize what was happening and tried calling down from the gallery to some of the departing banns, but they were not listening. Still Loghain said nothing, only watched mutely as the nobles departed the hall. His eyes moved around the room, and Ellie guessed that he was looking for her. At that moment, Rendon Howe stepped onto the gallery behind Loghain and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. As Ellie watched, her husband inclined his head to listen, then nodded at whatever it was Howe had said.

Ellie turned and followed the crowd into the hallway. It was difficult to breathe in the full helmet, and as soon as she found a quiet alcove she ripped it off and gasped in gulps of air. Her breathing was just returning to normal when she heard Loghain's voice. Leaning out, Ellie saw his group pass. He was accompanied by Cauthrien and Howe and a mixed complement of their guard.

"...I don't need your empty assurances," Loghain was saying, his tenor rising above the clank of metal and echo of bootsteps. "I need to know how many. We cannot..."

They rounded a corner and Loghain's voice receded. After a moment's hesitation, Ellie followed, carrying the helmet under her arm. It did not matter now if she was recognized. She wanted Howe to see her. They had not come face to face since the day he taunted her during her imprisonment, and she would be damned if she would hide, nor let him rest easily in the detente he had obviously convinced Loghain to make. A ghost she might be, but she would be a noisy ghost.

Ellie followed the group into one of the parlors where courtiers gathered for informal meetings. Loghain had broken off from Howe and was in the far corner, his back turned towards the door as he spoke with Cauthrien. Howe and his men clustered at a round of parlor chairs in the other corner. As Ellie stood in the doorway, someone in the nearest group was saying, "That Eremon b*tch, I'd not be her bedmate for a hundred sovereigns."

"You haven't seen a hundred sovereigns put together in your whole sorry life," another soldier retorted. "Nor a bedmate neither," another added, to much laughter.

Ellie barely heard anything after the first man spoke. She knew the voice. Cousland b*tch, the man had said as he ground his knee into her back, holding her while the other men finished off her warhound and dragged her son away in the middle of the blood. We ought to cut you right here.

Howe stood nearby, arms crossed and smirking at his men's banter. He looked up as Ellie approached them. Delight sprang into his eyes, followed by amusement as he took in her guardsman dress. "Well, well, what have we here? Been demoted, my dear Elissa?"

He received no answer, since Ellie was intent on only one thing. The man who taunted her had begun to turn. It took only a moment to calculate the right spot at a joint of his armor. Before he had barely seen her approach, Ellie plunged her sword into the man, twisted it, and rammed it further so that it pierced his heart.

There was a moment of shocked silence before the room sprang into action. Ellie locked eyes with her victim, who stared at her wide-eyed and uncomprehending, the smirk from his jesting still frozen on his mouth. Other than the men who had attacked her in an alley years before and some bandits on the road, she had never killed a man with her own blade. It was surprisingly easy. With the same deliberateness Ellie jerked back on the blade until she got it dislodged from the man's chest. The dwarven metal gleamed angrily through the dripping blood. As the soldier slumped to her feet, Ellie felt arms holding her back and heard Loghain's voice shouting. Howe's face had changed from smirking to shock, then to a black rage. His men pushed him back, surrounding him protectively, blades held out towards her.

"Get off her! Get back, I say. Andraste's blood, Elissa, stop." The voice shouting next to her belonged to Loghain, who had pushed through Howe's men until he reached her side. She let him take the sword from her hand.

While the soldier's blood pooled at her feet, Ellie felt a surge of calm and of something else. It was like joy. For a long while there had been nothing that had felt so right as that sword stroke. Loghain was shielding her, trying to push her back toward the door, but Ellie resisted and reached around him to point a finger towards Howe. "This was not revenge. It was a promise. You are on notice, you miserable traitorous bastard!"

She allowed Loghain to pull her from the room. In the hallway he pinned her to the wall, hands on both her arms. Ellie looked up at him, expecting to see anger. Though worry lines creased his forehead, he did not berate her. They stood quietly like that a while and finally he spoke, voice low. "Is it done?"

Ellie nodded. She was done, for now. His grip on her arms relaxed. "Howe murdered my family," she said, entreating him. "He would have killed both Gareth and me if you had not returned from Ostagar. Whatever happens, never forget that."

Loghain regarded her wordlessly, then shook his head and turned, gesturing to Cauthrien. "See her home." He held her eyes a moment longer before turning back towards the parlor.

That evening, he found her on the stone bench near their small willow pond and sat down next to her. "I settled matters with the seneschal and with Howe. No one will say anything about the dead guard."

Ellie nodded, not looking at him. Her eyes were trained out on the mirror surface of the little pond, streaked by moonlight. "We're going to Gwaren. I cannot stay here to watch you do this."

Loghain's jaw worked, obviously unhappy, but he did not appear surprised. "It's dangerous. The darkspawn are in the south, and they move through the Deep Roads. They could erupt anywhere, including in Gwaren."

"I know. Would you have me leave Ferelden?" She turned to look at him, knowing that he would understand the question to be rhetorical. They were both too Fereldan to answer this question but one way. It was one of the reasons they had fallen in love, despite the political origins of their marriage. "Our people will be frightened. The banns were not happy with you today, and they are unsettled about what has been said of my family. In Gwaren I can still do some good, however. I am Teyrna and it is my place."

Ellie would have liked for him to say that her place was with him and that he needed her help, too, but this also was not Loghain's way. He smoothed the fabric of his tunic and avoided her eyes, and she could see him fighting. Finally he said, "I don't like it. Here I can protect you and our boy."

"You have some sort of agreement with Howe, don't you?" Though he had never acknowledged as much, it was obvious. "As long as that is in place, he will not act against you or me. When you are ready for that to change, send for me. Just don't let it take too long."

Loghain turned. "Ellie, I..." He stopped. Whatever assurance or promise he might have given, he thought better of it and said nothing. Instead he slid towards her and leaned in to kiss her, awkwardly at first, then with more determination. For all that she felt hurt and dismayed, felt that a blow had been struck at her trust in him which might be permanent, Ellie did not stop him. Indeed she began to respond, though not without guilt. In her chambers that night, they made love wordlessly. It was heated, but more with desperation than with passion, and Loghain did not look at her.

It took a week to make the arrangements and to wait for passage. Even in wartime trade still had to flow, however the merchants were being cautious, and most of the coin was anyway to be had in Denerim, where Loghain was re-supplying his armies.

On the day they were to depart, Ellie left Gareth with Anya at home and started out for the palace. At the residence gate, Cauthrien met her. Though she would always have passed Ellie by with a stiff "m'lady," this time the knight stood square, blocking her path.

"Ser Cauthrien," Ellie greeted her, annoyed at the interruption. "I have much to do this morning, if you will excuse me."

"Don't go, your ladyship. To Gwaren, I mean."

If Loghain's second had hit her in the face with a board, Ellie would not have been more surprised. She gaped. "I... Ser Cauthrien, I can appreciate that..."

"It's not my place, and my lord would not be pleased to hear me speak to you like this. But these are dark times and maybe we're all doing things we oughtn't. So I beg you: Don't go. Stay with him."

As she recovered from her shock, Ellie was moved. She had no doubt the plea was genuine. Cauthrien's devotion to Loghain and his trust in her was so complete that Ellie had sometimes felt jealous of it. The rumor mill said that it was the other way around, but if that was so, Cauthrien was careful never to show Ellie any sign. At that moment, the knight's gaze was imploring. Ellie laid a hand on her arm. "I wish I could. It is for you now to remain at his side. I know you will do that."

Cauthrien hesitated, and Ellie had the wild notion that it might come to a duel of swords. The knight was also known for her tenaciousness. With bowed head, however, she stepped out of Ellie's way. "Rest assured, your ladyship. I will not leave him for a moment. May the Maker watch over you."

"And you."

Ellie found Anora in her study. The queen rose from her desk and invited her into the side parlor, bidding her elven maid to see that they weren't disturbed.  After tea had been offered and refused, Anora folded her hands and regarded the teyrna with eyes that were shadowed and red-rimmed. Otherwise her demeanor was as correct as always. "Have you come to ask me to honor the final provision of our arrangement?"

"Excuse me?" Ellie asked, uncomprehending.

"Your marriage agreement. If you recall, there was a provision that should there be grievous breach in carnal or filial loyalty or a reduction of my father's fortunes, you could apply to have the marriage dissolved, and I would not hinder you. Are we at that place now?"

Ellie was at a loss. It was another lifetime, another Elissa Cousland who had plotted and jousted over a union with Loghain like one of Gareth's beloved chess games. In that life, her greatest fear had been Cailan's goodwill toward her family. It seemed a quaint priority now that she no longer had a family. Shaking her head, Ellie answered, "I came to say our farewells. This is a dangerous game you and Loghain are playing. I understand why you feel you have to do it, but this time you will not be able to have it all, Anora. Political coyness can only get you so far."

The queen had obviously been expecting Ellie to accept her offer of annulment. She expelled a breath. "But you are reconciled to it, for now. You know that Father is only doing what is best. He is doing this for you."

"So he tells me. And are you content to let him speak for you?"

Anora paled a little and twisted her hands, stepping away. "It is only for a time. Father was also Maric's regent when the king was away from court, and Cailan's too."

"You are right here."

"Until the Landsmeet can convene to affirm that I rule alone, it is better this way." She did not sound convinced.

Ellie stepped closer. "I'm sorry about Cailan. Truly I am."

"Ah, well." Anora looked over at her and smiled. It was not a friendly smile. "He always did love you best, Elissa. Now I can say it, at least: You won, fair and square."

It was Ellie's third turn to be shocked that day. Her face flushed, mostly with anger, though there was a pinprick of shame. "That was a long time ago, Anora. We were foolish girls. It is better not to speak of it."

"I was certainly foolish," the queen nodded. Bitterness that she had apparently held in check for years laced her tone. "My father's experience should have taught me that even a long betrothal and a good friendship does not mean love will follow. Maybe it cannot follow. I saw how he looked at you, but Cailan was my friend, my only friend. I dared you to seduce him because I thought it was a wager I could not lose. I have since learned to place my bets more carefully."

Ellie wanted nothing more than to be gone, and never to speak of Cailan again. In a dull voice she replied, "Gareth and I leave for Gwaren this morning. I don't know when I'll return to Denerim. Take care of yourself, Anora." She turned on her heel to leave, but the queen called her back.

"I'm sorry," Anora began, fumbling. "I'm sorry. This has been a stressful time for all of us. You and Gareth are my family now. I wish to say..." She looked at Ellie, appearing to weigh her mood, then went on with a nervous gesture. "I wish to say, Elissa, that we are also your family. What was done to you is unforgivable. I have not forgotten that, nor will I."

Their eyes met. Ellie did not know how much the promise meant, but when she had so little to cling to, the word of Loghain's daughter and of her queen was no small thing. Voice catching, she replied sincerely, "Thank you."

Returning home, Ellie had one more stop to make. Slowly she walked through the garden, surveying the half-completed projects which now would be finished by someone else, or more likely not at all. She paused at Cutha's grave and stood there until Anya came to find her. It was time to go to the ship.

Gareth was always fond of sailing, but as they waited on the quay for the ship to be loaded, he hung tightly to Loghain's side and didn't say much. Finally it was time for them to board and Loghain urged him forward with a hand on the boy's back.

As they reached the gangplank, he pulled something from his pocket and showed it to Gareth. "I'll keep this for a while longer, if you don't mind, lieutenant." It was the wooden figure of a knight of Gwaren that the boy had given his father long ago, since he could not himself accompany Loghain on his many trips away from home. The original paint had long since worn off, but Ellie had seen Loghain one night in his study, painstakingly repainting it.

Shrugging, Gareth attempted a brave apathy. "You can if you want." His face fell, however, and his displeasure at the turn of events was evident in a most Loghain-like frown.

Smiling, his father mussed his hair and leaned down for a last kiss on his forehead. "Go on now, Gareth. I shall see you again soon. Don't forget your promise." There had been several promises extracted of him, but one of them had been that Gareth would practice his writing on letters to his father. As the boy turned and went off with dragging steps to where Anya waited, Loghain turned to Ellie. They gazed silently at each other, and finally he reached a hand to hold her cheek, fingers burying in her hair. "It doesn't have to be this way."

"It does, and you know why. You always say that if you do what you have to, the rest falls into place. We'll just have to see about that last part. I am trusting you, for now." He nodded, resigned, and leaned in to kiss her lightly. As he drew back, she clutched his hand. "Be careful, Loghain. You've seen what Howe can do."

"I have also seen what the Orlesians and darkspawn can do. I have to take my chances with Howe." There was no point in arguing it again, so Ellie smiled at him, a tired smile that did not touch her eyes. As she turned to go, Loghain called after her. "Remember what I told you, about the boat. And for pity's sake, don't stay down there just because you're too damned proud to come back."

Ellie turned. "You're forgetting the first rule."

Loghain frowned in puzzlement, then remembered. "Right, of course. I am not allowed to forbid you anything. Call it a strong suggestion, then."

At another parting, they might have laughed, but this one was too painful and felt too permanent. The sailors were throwing off the rigging, and Anya and Gareth already stood at the rail looking down at them. Ellie held his eyes a moment longer, then lifted a hand. "Maker watch over you. Husband."

Modifié par Addai67, 24 avril 2011 - 05:26 .

[The-Rogue-Princess]

That's right Ellie! You stab that guy!
You potray her sorrow so well, I wanted to hug her...

[Maria13]

Ummmm, the guys she really needs to stab are Howe and then Logain... I feel tempted to start a poll to see who's going to get him... Alistair, Fergus or Ellie herself...

[Addai]

Chapter 28

9 Solace, 9:30 Dragon Age.

As sailors shouted and the ship pulled back from the quay, Ellie remembered Cauthrien's words and a bolt of regret seized her. Don't go. Stay with him. Loghain was a receding figure on the dock, watching as the heavily laden merchant vessel slugged, seeking the Hafter currents. He walked, guards trailing him, so as to keep the ship in sight, lifting a hand each time Gareth waved at him. Whatever she might want, it was too late to turn back.

A boatswain's boy ran past shouting something that caught her attention. She grabbed the boy's arm to hal him. "What did you say? Lothering's been destroyed?"

"Aye, m'lady. The Tansy just came in from Gwaren this morning and brung the news. Whole village has been taken by the darkspawn."

Ellie let the boy go and turned, catching a last glimpse of the dark-haired figure on the pier. He would be hearing the news soon, if he had not already. It wouldn't change anything. He had come through Lothering on the way north and brought most of its militia with him. The risk to the village was known, and had been accounted for. She wondered what other things were on the balance sheet next to it. Remembering suddenly, Ellie turned to her companion. "Anya, your family. They were still in Lothering?"

The mage wore a deep frown. "What there was of 'em."

"Maker's breath. I am so sorry. How stupid of me! We should have gone years ago. I could have taken you, but I never even..."

"No, m'lady," Anya replied, shaking her head. "If I'd have wanted that, I'd have spoken up. Better to let that dog lie. I don't suppose it matters much now."

Ellie fell silent, then looked back at the shore. Denerim was a receding jumble as they tacked past Hafter Point and out to the sea, the men in the small escort vessels waving as they fell back. Gareth was already off with Alun Marwell, watching the ship's men ready the main sails. It was a clear day and the spring storms were behind them. They were expected to make good time to Gwaren.

After a long silence, Anya spoke up at Ellie's elbow. "He's a good man, m'lady. He'll do right for you, sooner or later. You'll see."

Ellie regarded her a moment, wanting to believe it. She then gestured with her head towards Alun. "He's a good man, too. I am happy for you, Anya. You have that now, at least."

The mage colored, but allowed a smile. "I didn't think to see it ever in life. Not at my age, nor with my... Well." She stopped, drawing her shawl closer about her.

Cautiously Ellie ventured, "Was there never any other? In Lothering, or in the Tower?"

Though the bright spots remained on her cheeks, Anya's smile vanished. It took some time before she answered. "There was. He was a neighbor boy, just a green hayseed, but I loved him. That wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't to have any friends outside our family, not anyone who could guess my secret and tell the templars. Mother had warned me, all my life she had, but young is young and blood runs as it will."

"Did he ever find out? About you being a mage, I mean."

"I never let him. I wanted to tell him, would've done, then we heard about what happened on another farm south of the village. The farmer's wife was a mage too, or so the templars said. They don't have to prove such things. Only takes a whispered word by someone envious of a neighbor's land. They came in the night and drug her from her bed, killed her husband when he tried to stop them, took the babe from his cradle, carried it off to Denerim or to Orlais for all anyone knew. She'd been heavy with her second and I suppose when that one was born, they took him, too. I never saw her in the Tower, so I can't tell you the right of it, but already I had heard enough. Told my sandy haired boy I didn't ever want to see him again. That summer after the harvest, I turned myself in to the templars. And that's all there is to tell."

"Your family let you do that?"

Anya's eyes tracked a passing ship, but they were distant, remembering. "They took it hard. It's shame on a family, magic is, and we never had much standing to begin with. And they were afraid I'd tell the templars..." She glanced at Ellie with reflexive nervousness. "... tell 'em things I knew. About others in our family. I never did, but there was no way for my people to know. I tried to smuggle letters out, but I got a message back saying not to write any more. I wager they hoped I'd die in my Harrowing, but I was too stubborn for that, even if I might've wished it myself time and again."

Ellie shook her head and reached out a hand, laying it on the other woman's arm. "I'm sorry, Anya. I knew you hadn't had an easy time of it, but you never wanted to talk about it before. Thank you for telling me."

The mage smiled and covered Ellie's hand with her own. "I tell you so you'll know how it is now, your ladyship. You and the little master, you're like my own, my own that I never had. When the templars wanted to take me away from you, I thought I might die if they did. A person can die of less than swords or sickness, simply of not having anyone in the world who'd care if they passed." She paused, then gestured in Alun's direction. "This, I know this won't last. It's just some comfort, a sweet thing. But you ought to know, ladyship, I'd give my last breath for you and for that little boy."

Tears threatened, as they often did in recent days. Compassion could bring them as easily as memory. "You already saved my life more than once, Anya. I can never repay you for what you've done. These are hard times for all of us and I've put you at risk. If there is anything I can do for you, you have only to say the word."

Anya clasped her hand. "What I want is to see you smile again, m'lady, like you used to do. Even before all this last, it was coming to be a rare thing. That palace, the more you were in it, the more your eyes turned... like his lordship's. Teyrn Loghain's. Forgive me, but it's true."

Ellie looked away, calling up Loghain's face in her mind, the familiar crags and the lines, and the hardness in his eyes. Even when it eased for a time with her or Gareth, the brittle in them was never really gone. She supposed that the it had already been there by the time Maric stumbled out of a forest into his path. Her tone rueful, she replied, "If I am coming to seem like him, perhaps it's because I am finally beginning to understand."

They put into Gwaren late the following afternoon and walked up from the quay, to find a flustered housekeeper at the estate.

"We didn't know you was coming, Teyrna," she apologized. "The girls haven't been to market today. I'll send out for a hot meal."

"That's quite alright, Mrs. Gardiner. We'll walk into the village and eat something at the inn."

There was no such thing as an upper class establishment in Gwaren, even those named for Maric's family. When Ellie's small entourage entered the Prince's Rest, charcoal burners and lumbermen made way to give them a table. The looks on patrons' faces were of polite curiosity, but when someone piped up that the lady was the Teyrna herself, turned friendly in Gwaren's gruff way. In her work on behalf of the guilds and for the virtue of having borne them an heir, Ellie was considered useless than most nobles. The house let her eat in peace, but when the roast was gone a man approached.

"They say a Blight's comin', Teyrna," the man asked, rubbing at his beard. "Is that so?"

"We can't know for sure." Loghain had still denied it, but Ellie was not so sure. The witch's warning, and Duncan's, remained in her mind. There was no call to cause panic, however.

"King dead at Ostagar and now Lothering gone. Gwaren could be next."

She could not deny it. "We must be ready for anything, good ser. The Teyrn is aware of the dangers. I have brought messages to his commanders here."

"Maker praised that he lives. There's something in that." The man shook his head and bowed briefly. "I wish you a good e'en, Teyrna. Little Teyrn." Ellie nodded acknowledgement, and from Gareth the man received a gap-toothed grin in return.

As her group made for the door, the innkeeper called Ellie over to inform her that the town was flush with refugees from the north. The seneschal was having a time of it with their disputes and pleas for passage out of Ferelden, and the Chantry with food and clothing. There would be trouble soon, the man predicted. Ellie thanked him and promised to look into it the following morning. At the estate, Mrs. Gardiner and the maids were still scurrying, setting out fresh rushes and airing the bedrooms. Gareth made a beeline for Harel and threw himself bodily towards the elderly valet. A rasping sound that could have been laughter came from the old elf's throat as he patted his admirer's head and feebly returned his hug.

"Gareth, leave the poor man be," Ellie said, smiling. "You are looking well, Harel."

When at last released by Gareth, Harel stepped closer and peered up at her. "Teyrn?"

"Loghain is fine, but he remains in Denerim."

The servant's face fell, but he nodded. That evening Ellie found him in Gareth's room, painstakingly unpacking the trunk that had been brought up from the harbor, taking one garment at a time to the dresser. He was so frail that even this seemed to tax him, but Ellie did not interfere. The elf took pride in his work and apparently had appointed himself Gareth's valet in Loghain's stead.

Tired from the journey, Gareth settled to sleep easily. Ellie did not have the same luck. After an hour of tossing, she rose, took a lamp and went next door to Loghain's room. It had been a year since Loghain had been at the estate, but there was a familiar leathern musk to the room, acrid with old books, sharp from blade grease and boot rosin. She did not bother to build a fire, only buried herself in the bedclothes and allowed the lamp to burn down, staring at the wyvern shield that hung over the mantle.

**

26 Solace, 9:30 Dragon Age. Denerim.

"They're holding? Just like that?"

"It's like I said. The Orlesians turned back and scouts say they're holding. They pulled back to..." The young sergeant found the spots on the map again, strongholds in Orlesian territory near Ferelden's western border. "...here and here. Pickets have caught no scouts crossing, not chevalier nor Grey Warden."

"But they haven't left the border area," Loghain pressed. "All four legions remain there." He stood over a table full of maps and diagrams, interrogating the young sergeant Riven had chosen to send to Denerim as his messenger. The Gwaren lieutenant, knew Loghain and chose someone sober and knowledgeable, no nobleman's nursling. The armies of Ferelden had a goodly number of solid, professional men in their officer ranks, for no other reason than Loghain Mac Tir made sure that they did.

"If I had to guess, I'd say no," the sergeant replied. "They're watching us just like we're watching them. Chevalier patrols, heavy horse, not the usual border rangers. What are your orders, Teyrn Loghain?"

Loghain had thought this through and answered immediately. "Fall back. Leave scouts, but pull the main force back. If they come across then, we'll know why, and we want them in the mountain passes with full force when we meet them. In the meantime let them think we've pulled back to fight the darkspawn."

There was a pause, and another man spoke up, cautiously. "Are we? Going to fight the darkspawn? Lothering..."

"Lothering is gone," said Cauthrien from where she stood in one corner at Loghain's side, arms crossed. Her tone dared any man in the room to question one of his orders.

"If Ostagar could not be defended, neither could the village," Loghain agreed. "A loss, but one we must accept. Supposing the horde surfaces again, we cannot meet them with small force."

Riven's messenger spoke up again.  "What of Redcliffe, your grace?  We met knights abroad who say the arl's taken ill, but they would neither join us nor return with word to their castle. They say they're on a pressing errand for the arlessa."

"Seeking Andraste's ashes," Howe supplied, his tone laced with sarcastic amusement. There had been Redcliffe knights in Denerim, too, and all told the same tale. "What a surprise that our fair Orlesian should find something other for her knights to do than to turn back chevaliers from our border."

Loghain smiled wryly, but lifted a hand to calm the murmurs in the room. He had not yet decided what to do about Eamon himself. There would be trouble there, no matter what course he took. "We cannot count on Redcliffe now. What of the Bannorn?" With this he looked back at Howe, who was tasked with securing the Bannorn's forces. It seemed prudent to keep him and his men busy and out of Denerim as much as possible.

The new teyrn shook his head. "They are divided, sire. A few are refusing to send troops and are calling for you to step down from the regency. Our allies fear to send their men in case those others take advantage."

"Yes, I hear that can happen sometimes when the country is at war," Loghain observed, his tone dry.

Rendon laughed nervously. For all his brashness, he was still the new player, still eager for acceptance among the old guard. "Yes. Well, I am reasonably sure I know who is leading the dissenters." He shuffled through the maps on the table until he found a detailed one of the Bannorn. After a moment's search he pointed to a large holding in the west of the region. "Granish Falls, sire. Bann Bronach called a meeting of other lords up in his keep and is directing them from there. Cut his head off and perhaps the others will fall in line."

Loghain leaned forward to examine the place. It was deep in the Bannorn and protected by natural features on three sides, the bann's keep at the head of a treacherous ravine. Little surprise that a lord holed up in its cleft would feel confident enough to start making demands. "Damn their eyes," he muttered, straightening once more. This was a game the Bannorn liked to play, jockeying for influence amongst one another and for power relative to Denerim and the larger holdings. They had done so during the rebellion, too. Loghain had hoped that the Orlesian and darkspawn threat would have cut the game short this time. A civil war while the country was threatened on two fronts, that was the last thing he needed.

"Let me take care of it, sire," Howe offered.

Loghain looked back. "You're very eager."

"I was under the impression that troops were needed." Howe's tone had taken on a caustic edge. "I have them, if you'll recall."

The other men in the war room were watching them. Uneasy bedfellows among the top tier would make for uneasy troops. You had to know that you could trust the man next to you. Loghain didn't trust Howe at all, but for their sake it would have to appear that he did. "As you will. I must send more of my men to the west, so I give you leave to deal with Bronach. Negotiate with him if you can, and if not, cut him down. Either way, we have no time to lose."

"I will not fail you."

Loghain said no more to Howe, but turned to Riven's messenger. "Good work, young man. You've ridden hard, so go find a meal and a bed. I'll want to talk to you again in the morning. Dismissed for now, all of you."

Rendon lingered behind. When the room was cleared of all all but the two of them, he produced a leaflet and let it fall in front of Loghain. It was a bounty poster for a Grey Warden, marked with the seal of the Arl of Denerim. Though the printer's plate had badly reproduced what was probably a bad sketch to begin with, Loghain could guess which Grey Warden was depicted. Ellie's eyes stared out at him from a young man's face.

He read it, then looked back to Howe. "Dead or alive?"

"We can take no chances. Your plan to circulate rumor that the Wardens were responsible for Cailan's death has worked marvelously. The people speak of it as a solemn truth and are passing the word along. It shouldn't get out that you're working with one of them because he's your kinsman in marriage."

Loghain's eyes narrowed. "Don't play games with me. It's obvious what you stand to gain in this. A terrible inconvenience for you that the only Warden to survive Ostagar is a Cousland."

"Perhaps not the only Warden to survive. There were others with him." Howe waited, the pause giving emphasis to what he was about to say. "They were seen with an Orlesian woman. She wore Chantry dress, but used daggers like no sister. She was helping them."

"A bard?"

"Undoubtedly. Empress Celene is using the Chantry, but that should come as no surprise to you."

"Damn." Loghain closed his eyes and turned away, his shoulders falling slightly. He had suspected all along that the Wardens of Ferelden were working with those of Orlais, who were no doubt under Celene's thumb. Nor was it indeed any surprise that the Orlesians would use the Chantry. They had seen it in the rebellion and more recently in the Dragon Society activities Howe had helped uncover. A secretive mercenary order with international cachet provided excellent cover, and so did the pious face of the priestesses who answered to the Divine in Val Royeux. Witting or not, Cousland was in the Empress' mesh and would be working her purposes behind the scenes. Loghain called up the image again of Ellie and her brother standing in the foyer at the residence, laughing and joking with Cutha and Gareth hovering. It seemed like a hundred years ago. He barely heard when Rendon spoke up again.

"I have arranged for a solution, sire," Howe was saying. "With your leave."

When Loghain turned, another man had entered, an elf, blonde and deeply tanned, wearing leather armor and with daggers in his belt. Elves were forbidden to bear arms in Ferelden, but when the man spoke up in a sonorous, thickly accented voice, it was apparent why he was an exception. "The Antivan Crows send their regards."

Loghain looked from the elf back to Howe, incredulous. "An assassin." He mouthed the word as though he had just drank of wine turned to vinegar.

"The Grey Wardens are a danger, sire," Rendon insisted. "Even if the boy is not cooperating with the Orlesians, they can use him. For ransom, if nothing else." When he received no answer, Howe's voice lowered, turned sly. "Is there a reason, my lord, why you should wish to protect Orlesians operating in this country?"

Loghain's face darkened. "You dare?"

"I am simply reminding you of your priorities, regent," Howe answered, lip curling. "I should not like anyone to accuse you of protecting Orlesian agents. Or of being wed to one."

A flush of rage clouded Loghain's sight, but he fought it back. Howe was playing with him. He wanted Loghain to be rattled, to make a quick judgment. The two men glared at each other while the elf looked on, glancing between them with a cheeky curiosity.

"No." Loghain said it with decision. This was a line he could not cross, not without talking to the boy first. He had to risk that Howe was bluffing, that he would not play his trump card and accuse Ellie of treason. If the Warden had been anyone else, he might have considered an outside assassin, as uncouth a solution as it was. One death or several was little to ask when so many other lives hung in the balance. This Grey Warden, however, was a different matter.

The elf's eyes fell at Loghain's reply, his disappointment clear. Rendon started up his protests again, but Loghain cut him off. "No assassins. I am regent here. Recall these bounty posters and put out new ones. Cousland is to be brought to me alive and unharmed. Alive, do you hear me? We will hold him for questioning, hold him as long as we need to, but I will hear what the boy has to say before I allow you to stick a dagger in his back."

Howe's mouth twisted with anger. "Better that than an Orlesian dagger in ours. Sire."

"My decision is final."

The Antivan started to speak but Howe stopped him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Casting a skeptical glance at Loghain, the assassin relented and left. A moment later Howe moved closer. Loghain had the impression of a snake slithering, though whether to strike or merely to coil itself at his feet, that was the question. The new lord of the north could make himself deferential when it suited him. More to the point, he could make himself useful. Even to one like Loghain who was used to getting things done, Rendon Howe's efficiency was startling. It was one of the counterweights to the many disadvantages to their alliance.

"Unwise," Howe murmured, chiding. "There was another report that you should hear, sire. Among the Warden's companions was one reported as a young man bearing a templar shield. Your men said he bore uncanny resemblance to the late king. Have you any idea who that might be?"

Loghain's cheek twitched, though he gave no other sign of his surprise. So Maric's bastard had survived Ostagar, too, and somehow Rendon had learned of his identity. Before he could fill in the implications, Howe did it for him, continuing, "A Theirin Warden, your grace. Think of it. The Bannorn are seeking some way to challenge your daughter's rule. Another weak king of Theirin blood would perfectly suit their purposes. This time a Grey Warden king, too. You might as well hand the scepter over to Celene now." There was a silence before Howe spoke again. "Shall I call the assassin back, sire?"

With one look, Loghain both silenced and dismissed him. Howe lifted a shoulder as though to emphasize that he was only acting the dutiful subordinate, then turned to go. It was late and as Howe left a servant entered and began lighting the tapers on the wall. Loghain waved the servant off, gathered up the most important papers and locked the door behind him. In his study, he called for a meal and took it alone, rifling through field reports as he ate. Afterward he lit a fire. It was early summer but nights were cool even in the north. In Gwaren the mists would still be creeping in the evenings, out of the Wilds and up from the sea, blanketing the village. Ellie was alone there, she and Gareth. Loghain tried not to think of it.

Numbness was called for also as he unlocked a chest in his cupboard and removed a letter marked with the royal seal. Maric's handwriting. Loghain crouched by the hearth, opened it up and read it again by the firelight. "I hereby claim as my own blood Alistair of Redcliffe, lately ward of the templars, and charge that in extreme need he be put into the line of succession as my heir. This is to be done only in the event of..." In the event of. In the event of Cailan throwing away everything that so many had fought and died for so that he could play diplomat and warlord. The bastard was no different in temperament and even less trained than Cailan, and somehow the Orlesians had caught wind of him, too, and were grooming a new pawn.

With a flick of his wrist, the letter landed in the hearth. Loghain watched while the flames licked at the edges and the wax of the seal dissolved, the hounds rampant melting together and disappearing.

"I'm doing this for you," he argued at the fire. It might have been a campfire like many he and Maric had shared while Orlesians hunted them. "Thirty years and they haven't stopped. They never will. You made me promise to carry out that letter, but before that you made me swear that I would never put one man above Ferelden as I did at West Hill. Not even you." Five years gone, and Loghain couldn't see Maric's face clearly any more, nor guess what his friend might say to where that promise had taken him. Loghain decided it was better that he couldn't.

By the time he retrieved the whiskey bottle, the ashes had fallen, mingling with the ash of the wood. Loghain drank a few swallows, the warmth settling him, and his eyes drifted to the wall where his maps had been moved aside to accommodate a portrait of Ellie he commissioned. It was to be a formal thing, but after her sitting Loghain had found the artist and requested him to improvise. The artist was Gwaren born and had understood. In the finished work Ellie looked out, hair loose and wearing hunting clothes, standing alongside a stone wall of the sort that lined many a Gwaren seacoast pasture. She looked much as she had on the day of the wedding hunt, the day she and Loghain first spoke to one another in private. Noble ladies did not commission such informal portraits, but the artist's daring had gone a step further than even Loghain intended. His version of Ellie wore a frank look and hint of an ironic smile, and the laces of her shirt were open just enough to suggest what lay beneath her neck. Ellie was embarrassed when she saw the finished painting and ordered her husband to put it out of sight. Loghain was perturbed, too, to think the artist had gazed on his wife long enough to see such details. He then paid the man double the agreed fee, and hung it prominently in his study.

Looking on her in the dim flicker of firelight, Loghain smiled first, then sobered. Ache mingled with guilt. Though necessity had driven the Howe alliance, she deserved better from him. One day he had casually suggested to Howe one day that Ellie rule the north in his stead. The Amaranthine lord laughed, replying with a derision likely more honest than he intended, "I know that you are fond of your little spitfire, but we are men of reason. She does well enough playing at politics here at court and likes to brandish her sword, but Elissa is weak. You really ought to take that toy away from her."

The misjudgment of Ellie had made Loghain smile a sly smile. It was better that Howe think she was no threat. Though Loghain did not share Howe's assessment of Ellie, it had not been a serious suggestion. They were on war footing, and she was untried and was the mother of a small child. Men would follow a woman like that into battle. Swordplay was one thing, but leading men in war quite another, a lesson Cailan had never learned. When the peace was secured, that would be another matter. If the younger Cousland was alive and could be extracted from the Wardens' influence, so much the better for their chances of restoring a Cousland-Mac Tir alliance. That was the best chance they had to secure all of them and Anora's throne as well.

Loghain stared a while longer at the portrait, until the emptiness it wore in him made him turn away. He sank slowly into an easy chair and nursed the whiskey a short while, watching the fire die down. Never a great drinker, he soon set the bottle aside. The palace grew quiet. This was the best part about lack of sleep, the stillness. It amplified worry, but sometimes brought clarity, too. Decisions could be made. Towards the middle of the night, Loghain made one. It was not as much as Ellie what she wanted, but he could give her something. A quick end to what threatened all of them would mean a quicker end to the arrangement that had driven her away.

The following morning, he appeared at Howe's door early and ordered the guards to wake their lord. Loghain was already dressed and armored. Howe appeared quickly, pulling on a dressing gown and bleary-eyed. Wasting no time, Loghain commanded, "You're to shore up our support in the eastern Bannorn. Make sure there are no wolves at my back, do you understand? I'm going to see to Bann Bronach myself."

By the time Howe could mumble "yes, sire," the regent was already gone.

**

28 August, 9:30 Dragon Age. Iachus Valley, Central Bannorn.

On a hay field above the dale, with a good view of the village and the bann's estate beyond, Loghain's army assembled and made rendezvous at midday with a small force commanded by Rendon Howe. The farmer's first cutting of hay had been brought in and the second would now be trampled, but that could not be helped. The farmer himself, surrounded as he was by armed men, was being generous to a fault.

Loghain and Howe met at the center of the field, both in good spirits.

"Sire, how marvelous to see you in excellent health," Howe greeted him, clasping his arm. "Word is already spreading of the surrender at Grannis Falls. Not a man of ours lost? Can that be true?"

"It is. A few slit throats can be very persuasive. What news do you bring from the eastern Bannorn and Denerim?"

"Trouble. But first you should hear something." Rendon turned and gestured at one of his men. From further back in the ranks, a man was brought forward, hands bound. Blood seeped from bandaged wounds on his head and leg. Loghain surveyed him critically as Howe continued, "We encountered resistance in some of the smaller holdings, sire, but this one had a tale to tell when he was taken." He turned to the prisoner. "Speak up, cur. This is the regent before you."

The man blanched and nodded, shooting Loghain a fearful glance. "I don't know much, sers, honest. But I heard the bann and his sons talking. They said the Cousland ****- begging your pardon, m'lords, but that's what they said- was still alive and her brat, too, how they was in Gwaren, and how if the bann's men could get them for ransom then the regent would have to listen."

Loghain's jaw set. "And?"

"The men argued. Ser Tristan said it was too dangerous, that the regent would come down on 'em like a ratter on the scent. But Bann Cormac called him a coward, said Loghain Mac Tir bleeds like any other man and his wife is no better than any common wench. Ser." The prisoner's hands shook. He wasn't happy to be a bearer of such volatile news.

"Bann Cormac? So it's ap Feil." Loghain glanced from the prisoner to Howe, who nodded confirmation. It was the slippery bann who had been trying to convince Bryce Cousland to do greater business with the Orlesians, a plan revealed to Loghain by the bann's wife, Regan.

"And Bann Matthus, sers," the prisoner added. "From Oswin. He was there, too."

Loghain turned again to Howe. "Do you credit this threat? Is there any news from Gwaren?"

"None that I have heard, your grace. I am abroad as you are. As for whether to take the threat seriously... well." Howe shrugged. "The banns talk."

They did indeed, and were quick to make threats. In Grannis Falls, Bann Bronach's demand that Loghain step down from the regency had also been big talk, too. He had thought his keep too well defended to be taken. Fluid alliances could work for the goose as well as the gander in the Bannorn, however. Rather than try to assault the keep from its protected valley, Loghain found a rival neighbor who showed them how to approach it from behind and above. The keep was set against a sheer cliff face, requiring a treacherous descent using ropes. Loghain and four other men had done it at night, dropping onto an abandoned tower and from there making their way into the main halls. No alarm was ever raised. The following morning, servants found the bann and his guards with throats cut. The bann's nephew and heir immediately surrendered Grannis Falls and its fighting men to Loghain. These were sent westward to join Riven's forces at the border. It all had taken more time than Loghain had hoped, but they had lost no men. By then there was news that Bann Torval of Iachus Valley was also declaring against him.

Loghain paced a few steps away, weighing what to do. From his high vantage, he could see the scurry of activity around the keep in the valley below. They were preparing for battle. The strategy here was show of force, not stealth. Even with many of Loghain's men at the western border, it should be an easy fight. Both Oswin and ap Feil's lands were on the way back to Denerim. With decisive victories at Grannis Falls and Iachus Valley, by the time they reached him, Cormac ap Feil would likely be singing a different tune. He and his kin had always had more mouth than courage.

Turning back to Howe, Loghain said, "Rest your men. There will be a battle tomorrow, unless Bann Torval grows some sense overnight."

"And Elissa?"

"It's just talk. The threat is here. We will bring these dogs to heel, down to the last man, and put an end to all this. That is the best thing I can do for my wife and son." Loghain cast a last glance on the doomed keep below them before turning back toward his tents.

As he walked away, Howe called, "What of the prisoner? I had thought to hang him."

Loghain looked back at the man, who was sputtering and begging for his life. "Give him quarter. Perhaps we'll find a use for him."

When he reached his tent, Loghain glanced back and saw that the prisoner had been taken away. Howe was still watching him, arms crossed.

Modifié par Addai67, 07 mai 2011 - 03:12 .

[Maria13]

And no-one commented? Well, allow me.

You have sucked me in. I don't care so much for the Ellie bits but love the politics between Howe and Loghain. It is still beautifully written.

And I am still tempted to set up a poll as to how Loghain meets his end. Surely Aedan will not make him a warden...

[Addai]

Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. 

Modifié par Addai67, 17 mai 2011 - 04:57 .

[Costin_Razvan]

When's the next chapter coming out...or are you tangled with a white wolf right now?

[Addai]

I'm working on it. Hopefully this weekend.

Haven't played much TW2 yet- too challenging for the mental fog I'm in after the workday.

Modifié par Addai67, 19 mai 2011 - 05:32 .

[Esbatty]

Yay *claps*

I've been neglectful of mine own stories on FF.net too. But I'm workin' on some original pieces and also uhh... trying not to scream in horror as I play Dead Space 2.

[Maria13]

@ Addai I'm using an XBox controller, you don't even have to set it up...

@Esbatty, go us!!!

[Addai]

Officially given up on TW2, but not on the chapter. It's just cracking my nut a little more than the usual. I think I got over the hurdles, though it will probably be another week before I can get it finished and beta'ed. Thanks for caring, anyone. lol

Modifié par Addai67, 24 mai 2011 - 07:20 .

[Maria13]

Some chaps are easy some are definitely not... I'm sure it will be well worth the wait.

[Esbatty]

I know exactly where I want to go with each my pending ff serials but I have no idea how to begin any of the continuing chapters, just want to hop right to the juicy parts but I find they're less juicy without some framing first. That and the damn Javelin Gun is AWESOME in Dead Space 2.

...

And I care, Addai! Sorry I haven't commented on previous chapters but I read the Chapters on my PSP during my work commutes since BSN isn't PSP compatible, thus no comments in the thread here. But I'm lovin' the story... and I just feel so bad for Gareth. I don't want him to end up like 'Nora, or Cailan.

[Addai]

Heh, it's ok. Ah the days when I could read on the commute. Now I read Silicon Valley's obnoxious vanity plates on the freeway.

I should have the chapter ready this weekend!!! (promises, promises)