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[sylvanaerie]

AN: While this is a stand alone tale, it takes place in the world of “Threshold,” my ‘canon’ Dragon Age realm. It is not necessary to read the other stories I have written in this series to enjoy this tale, since it takes place prior to the events in those, during the game.
 
My thanks go to Lady Damodred for her beta reading skills and creative input, and to the developers and writers at Bioware for their engaging world. All rights and properties to the world of Thedas, Dragon Age and its wonderful characters belong to them, not I.
 
All My Secrets
 
The Usurper
 
Teagan shifted from foot to foot, standing in the Landsmeet chamber with most of the banns, trying to hold back his agitation. Cailan had called for troops from all over Ferelden—Highever, the arlings, the Bannorn—to engage the darkspawn at Ostagar. There, with the Grey Wardens’ aid, they had intended to meet the darkspawn forces and end the Blight that threatened to overrun the country.
 
Teagan had closed up his estate and was heading south to Ostagar to meet up with Redcliffe’s troops when he passed Lothering and learned that the early promising excursions had ended in a disastrous defeat. Survivors trickling in to Lothering painted a bleak picture of the final battle to the south, which had been, by all accounts, a slaughter.
 
It had surprised him to learn that Redcliffe’s forces hadn’t been seen traveling through Lothering, but perhaps for some reason Teagan didn’t know yet, they hadn’t passed through on the Imperial Highway.

From the accounts he’d been getting, the forces under the general’s command had withdrawn from the fight, and passed through Lothering not a day before. He learned Loghain himself was heading to Denerim, presumably to call for more troops. Hopefully, he would at the very least be offering up some explanation as to why he had quit the field while his king was fighting and dying.
 
Once he had learned this, he turned his mount northward toward Denerim, trying to catch up with the general and his army.
 
Upon arrival in Denerim, his seneschal and friend, Andrew, had filled him in on matters. Having numerous contacts throughout Ferelden, Andrew knew perhaps more than anyone else what was going on.  Cailan’s death was confirmed, along with most of the Grey Wardens. Loghain had declared himself regent. Even more troubling, the troops from Redcliffe had never arrived at the battle.

Teagan wished one of the numerous skills Andrew could boast was reading minds. He could relate facts, but could do little more than guess at the motivations of the people involved. And those were the things Teagan wanted to know. Cailan was more than just his king, he was Teagan’s family, and Teagan did not suffer such losses in his family lightly. More than anything else, he needed to know why things had happened as they had.

Thus, Teagan found himself standing in the Landsmeet chamber, waiting with the rest of those who had been on hand to assemble to see what Loghain would say.  The teyrn’s address was abrupt and harsh. He offered up little about what had happened in Ostagar, only that the Grey Wardens had betrayed the king, leading him down a disastrous path to his doom, and that Loghain had only just managed to pull the rest of the army out before they were lost, too.
 
Looking around at his fellow noblemen, Teagan could see some of the banns believing the teyrn, but Loghain’s explanations didn’t ring true to Teagan. It didn’t make sense that the Wardens would do something so counter to their very purpose.
 
Then Loghain issued his demand for more troops to replace the ones lost so senselessly.
 
“And I expect each of you to supply these men,” said Loghain. “We must rebuild what was lost at Ostagar and quickly. There are those that would take advantage of our weakened state if we let them. We must defeat this darkspawn incursion but we must do so sensibly and without hesitation.”
 
“Your lordship, if I may speak?” Teagan called. At Loghain’s nod, Teagan continued. “You have declared yourself Queen Anora’s regent and say we must unite under your banner for our own good.”
 
His anger was getting the better of him, but Teagan couldn’t stop now. No one was speaking out and someone had to.
 
“But what of the army lost at Ostagar? Your withdrawal was most…fortuitous.”
 
There. It was said. Broaching this was difficult though it needed to be addressed. Teagan, like many Fereldans, admired Loghain. He was a hero, one who had taken a ragtag army of rebels, and with Maric and Teagan’s sister, Rowan, had freed his nation from the iron grip of Orlais. What Teagan had said was tantamount to calling this national hero a traitor. He was aware of more than one set of eyes burning into him.
 
The words that emerged from the teyrn were tightly clipped with indignation and fury. “Everything I have done has been to secure Ferelden’s independence. I have not shirked my duty to the throne and neither will any of you!”
 
This was worse than Teagan could have imagined. Loghain offered up thin, unsatisfactory answers for his actions at Ostagar. In fact, he was slandering the Grey Wardens and demanding the obedience of the bannorn!
 
The bastard, as if the Bannorn were going to just roll over and do what he said simply because he demanded it! Fereldans were a proud and independent people—the blood of their barbaric ancestors ran hot in their veins. The nobility weren’t common foot soldiers—these were educated men and women, and Loghain had to learn the Landsmeet wasn’t the type of battlefield he was used to.
 
Yes, he had managed to hold Ferelden together when Maric had gone into his depression following Rowan’s death, but that had been years ago, and Ferelden was now facing a crisis of unprecedented proportions. It needed a real ruler—not a regent, but a king or queen who could see beyond their prejudices and do what must be done to defeat the Blight and Teagan feared Loghain, for all his skill, might not be up to that challenge. He would better serve his country by attending to the army and engaging the darkspawn.
 
Teagan didn’t understand why Loghain was doing this. Anora was a good queen, had proven herself so for the past five years, and she was very popular with the people. As much as Cailan was loved, everyone knew it was Anora who had ruled in his name since Maric’s death. She was more than capable of gathering the troops they needed and leading the nation during the Blight. What was Loghain thinking?
 
In his disbelief, he blurted the first words that popped into his head. “The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!”
 
“Understand this, I will brook no threat to this nation from you,” Loghain’s eyes swept over the assembled banns. “Or anyone!”
 
With that, the teyrn swept from the balcony. Teagan’s demand for answers for Ostagar—for Cailan’s death, for the fate of the Grey Wardens, one of whom Teagan hadn’t seen in years, but felt a fondness as if he were an uncle for, for Loghain’s actions now at the assemblage—went unheeded, and he was left with nothing. No answers, and only more battle on the horizon.
 
A voice from the balcony called him back. “Bann Teagan, please…”
 
Teagan swallowed back his anger. It was not directed toward his queen.
 
“Your Majesty, your father risks civil war. If Eamon were here….” His unspoken words hung between them.
 
“Bann Teagan, my father is doing what is best.”
 
The taste of his anger and helplessness in the face of this situation left bitter ashes in his mouth. He could no more stop the next words out of his mouth than he could stop the tide.
 
“Did he also do what was best for your husband, your Majesty?”
 
As Teagan left the Landsmeet chamber, he heard other banns talking. Loghain did have some support here aside from Anora. Quite a few regarded him a hero, and would follow him unconditionally, but he had managed to ****** off at least half the Bannorn. Shaking his head angrily, he left the palace and rode out of the gates. This was going to end in bloodshed, and not all of it spent on the field against the common enemy they now faced.
 
Once outside Denerim and away from the growing tension in the city, his thoughts turned to his brother. Why hadn’t the troops from Redcliffe gone south?  What was happening in his brother’s arling? He needed answers that hadn’t been forthcoming here and he knew where he had to go now. Teagan turned his mount southwesterly toward Redcliffe and, hopefully, some answers to his burning questions.
 

Modifié par sylvanaerie, 29 août 2011 - 07:50 .

[sylvanaerie]

AN: Sometimes, leaders don’t lead by virtue of ‘they want the position’, or that they even know what they are doing. Sometimes they can just ‘fake it’ better than others around them. Bravery isn’t necessarily an absence of fear, but merely how we respond to the fear inside us. Does it make us turn and run, or do we face our terrors, and don’t allow them to paralyze us?


Flirtation

Redcliffe was doomed.

When Teagan arrived in the village several days ago, he'd found the villagers in a state of panic. He couldn't get very much information from them, just that the arl had fallen ill some time ago. Arlessa Isolde, despairing of a cure, had sent out Redcliffe's knights to search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Then, as everyone waited for word, the castle's gates had been lowered. Since then, nothing had been heard from inside, no matter how loudly they called.

Shortly after that, the attacks had begun. Walking corpses had streamed from the castle night after night, rising from the ground to continue fighting with even the most grievous wounds. That state of siege had been going on several days before Teagan arrived. Upon learning what had befallen Redcliffe, Teagan had called and called to the castle in the light of day from the gates, but no response came from the castle.

The villagers had learned early on not to try to escape. Those first few who tried to leave to get help or to simply get away were seen later that night as part of the undead army. Worse, those in the militia who fell rose up upon their deaths to attack their former fellows.

Teagan had placed the mayor, Murdock, and Eamon’s most senior knight present in Redcliffe, Ser Perth, in charge of the defense of the village. They were doing their best, but morale had been devastated and sinking even more as their numbers dwindled and the forces arrayed against them swelled. If only Isolde had not sent out all the knights in search of the Urn, they might have stood a chance of saving the village, but Teagan feared no one would survive these assaults.

He was in over his head, but there was no help to be found elsewhere. The bannorn were gearing up to fight Loghain in a senseless civil war. No one in the castle had answered his desperate calls. No one was coming to their rescue. Redcliffe was on its own.

Ser Perth had insisted he stay in the chantry. The knight had tactfully couched it in terms of right of succession. As brother to Eamon, it would be to him the people would turn if Eamon, Connor and Isolde were all dead. And he would act as a last line of defense against the enemy. However, Teagan knew he was no great warrior, no hero striding triumphantly through some bard’s tale to save the day. He was just one man trying to do what was right in a situation beyond his control. Ser Perth was trying to protect him as well as the villagers, though his words did manage to assuage some of the blow to Teagan’s masculine pride.

The chantry was sturdy, its walls stone, but Teagan doubted even that would protect those who sought shelter in there. They had barricaded as best they could, and it had held up until now, and now it was a matter of waiting. Waiting to die. It wasn’t a possibility, it was a certainty. Time was not on their side. They would probably lose everyone tonight. But he couldn’t abandon these people to that fate.

Looking around at the faces of the townspeople, so hopeless, so fearful, Teagan’s heart was filled with sorrow. It was all he could do to prevent his own despair from showing through.

He had set Tomas at the bridge to watch for the creatures if they attacked early, and he was a little displeased to see the man walking back into town with several strangers.

Well, several strangers and Alistair. Maker’s breath, it was good to see him! The rumors that the Grey Wardens had all died in Ostagar had hurt as almost as much as losing Cailan had. He’d always had a fondness for the boy, viewing him as much a nephew as he had Cailan or Connor.

Then his attention turned to the young woman with Alistair, a fellow Warden he was told, and the leader of their small group. She was an elf, certainly an unusual person to be a Warden, but not the only one to have joined the order. She had shoulder length dark red hair and hazel eyes that made her seem much older than her young face told. She was dressed in dark blue robes with little silver vines and leaves embroidered along the neck and hemlines.

A mage.

Teagan knew others distrusted mages, but they had always held a certain fascination for him. And the situation they were facing was doubtless caused by magic. It was reassuring that they had someone well versed in magic and its lore on their side in this battle.

Upon learning what was happening, Neria determined that they would remain and help with the defenses. For the first time since this nightmare began, Teagan felt a flicker of hope.

It didn’t take long for Neria to settle some disagreements in the village, getting the blacksmith to do repairs and galvanize the militia to the defense. She even convinced that dwarven merchant, Dwyn, to pitch in and help.

Once the militia was prepared and the knights stood ready, there was still some time left until sundown. So far, the creatures had only attacked at night, but everyone was on the alert. He was sitting in one of the pews that weren’t blocking windows in the chantry and waiting just like everyone else.

That’s where Neria found him. He stood when she approached and smiled at her.

“It’s all done, we’re as prepared as we’ll ever be,” she said.

“I thank you, my lady. You’ve no idea how much this means.”

She smiled then. The situation was as serious as it could be, but it was nice to see her smile despite the gravity around them. Not only did it reassure him and add some confidence to his thoughts, but it softened her face. She was really quite pretty when she smiled. No, not pretty, beautiful. Something, some trick of the light, transformed the planes of her face, light and shadow working to make her lovelier than she might normally appear.

Now that he had more of a chance to study her, he returned her smile, and looked more closely at her. She had the cutest row of freckles across the bridge of her nose, peppering a slight sunburn that also extended to her cheeks and the tips of her gracefully tapering ears. Redheads seemed to have the most delicate skin.

There was a smudge of dirt or oil on her cheek from the work she had done to ready the village for the assault which was now probably only an hour or so away. Her dark red hair had been pulled up off her neck, but loose strands escaped the leather tie to brush her cheeks and the back of her neck. All in all, she presented a picture of charming dishevelment that added to her appeal rather than detracted from it. The only thing that wasn’t messy about her was her hands, which had been washed, even to removing dirt from under the nails.

“Do you mind if I sit with you a while?” she indicated the pew he had been sitting in.

“Not at all,” he replied, and took her elbow to seat her, then settled himself beside her.

She sat there, one leg tucked under her and facing him. Her hands were in her lap and the fingers of one drummed on the other. For all her calm demeanor, the action betrayed her nervousness about tonight. At first, it made him want to ask her to remain in the chantry, under his protection, but he decided against that. As a Grey Warden, she would doubtless be insulted by that, and surely she was far more capable than he at defending the village.

She studied him with her large, catlike eyes, their hazel depths unfathomable, and he wondered what was behind them.

“So, Bann Teagan, do you have any family yourself?” she asked.

Well, aside from Eamon, Isolde and Connor, which she already knew about…. Ah, she wanted to know if he had a family of his own.

“Oh, you mean…am I married? I…no…no, I’ve never had the pleasure.” That was a peculiar out from nowhere question. He grinned, the gentlemanly courtier emerging as he responded to the question despite the circumstances they found themselves in. Courtly flirtation was an interesting diversion, but most elves didn’t play it, certainly not with him, and he was delighted at the thought she might be up to the challenge. “If I did, I’d be lucky to find someone as lovely as yourself.”

Grinning, she responded, “Flatterer.”

He affected an expression of mingled hurt and polite amusement. From her dubious expression, she didn’t seem to believe him, especially in her current disheveled state. “Flattery? Why no, my lady, I am the very soul of sincerity. If I may be so bold, what of you, my lady? Do you have anyone back at home? Children or a sweetheart? Or are you married?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m a mage.” She made it sound like he should know what she meant. At his confused expression, she clarified. “Those sorts of relationships aren’t encouraged in the Circle.”

“Well that seems a shame.” She was actually quite nice, he couldn’t imagine she didn’t have someone who cared about her that way. “Mages can marry,” he added. “Or so I’m told.”

“They can, indeed, if the man is brave enough.”

Caught up now in the game, he couldn’t stop his next words. “I can think of several reasons a man would be so brave.”

One of the young children in the chantry cried briefly before being hushed, and Teagan frowned worriedly, his mind going back to the more troublesome thoughts of the night to come. On the heels of that realization, came the embarrassment that he had gone too far. This wasn’t a garden party. She wasn’t a noblewoman, and this was hardly the proper setting for this kind of talk. Doubtless, she had come to ask him about security and he turned it into some kind of silly flirtation.

“But I am too bold, my lady. This is hardly the time for such banter. Please, accept my apology.”

She smiled again, but this time the worry was back in her eyes. “That’s all right, Bann Teagan, I’m not offended. Life’s too short not to enjoy it as much as you can.”

“You are too kind, my lady, amongst many other things.”

She looked over toward the back of the room and his glance followed hers to see Alistair had reentered the chantry. “Alistair is giving me ‘that look.’ It’s time, and I guess I’d better get going.”

He rose and inclined his head toward her as she stood. “Good, then my secrets are still safe.”

She giggled and walked toward the door, and he settled back down in the pew once she stepped away. Then he heard the confident steps behind him hesitate and stop. Half turning, he caught her in an awkward side embrace as she came back and hugged him. He didn’t miss the frightened tremble in her hands as she squeezed him gently. Her warm breath fanned his ear, and for a moment his heart raced in response.

“I swear I will do everything I can to ensure no one else dies here tonight. Take heart, Bann Teagan, by tomorrow this will be done, and then we go face what’s happened to your family,” she whispered in his ear fervently.

He patted her arm and nodded, trying to reassure himself as well as her.

“Good luck, Neria. All my prayers go with you. Maker watch over you.”

“Maker watch over us all….”

She gave him another squeeze and then she ran back over to Alistair. Watching the way Alistair placed his hand to the small of her back to guide her out the door, and the look he shot Teagan, the older man sighed. Jealousy didn’t suit the situation as neither of them took that exchange very seriously. However, it was quite obvious how smitten Alistair was by the girl, and Teagan wouldn’t make things difficult.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have options of his own and he supposed if he was getting this moon-eyed over a young woman half his age that he’d barely known for a few hours, it had obviously been too long since his last tumble between the sheets. He would go see Bella later, after all this was done, if they all survived.

Still, she was very nice. Most elves were understandably not comfortable in discussion with him, let alone flirtation, being aware of their relative stations to his. But she had spoken to him as if he were just another person in the chantry. And he had always been fascinated with mages and magic. He’d have to take some time later once this mess was done to get to know her a little better. He vowed he would, if they were still alive after tonight.

Modifié par sylvanaerie, 15 août 2011 - 10:27 .

[sylvanaerie]

I originally planned on posting this M/F, but it isn't that long a story and LD got it all beta'ed for me.  So , its M/W/F until it's done.


AN: Frankly I usually go the Blood Ritual route with this.
 
Mind Games
 
Dawn arrived and they all survived.
 
Neria and her companions had saved Redcliffe and no further lives were lost. The militia and the knights’ morale was high, and there was no small amount of cheer as the sun rose the next day over a Redcliffe that seemed brand new to Teagan.
 
With the village in such dire straits, he had nothing more valuable to offer her than the helm he’d been using. It was old, but it had been in his family for several generations, and it was magical and his most prized personal possession. He knew she herself could not use it, but hoped that it could benefit her small group, and that the personal nature of the gift would show his gratitude. At first she had declined, but he insisted and she graciously allowed him to bestow it on her.
 
Now all that remained was to find a way into the castle and figure out what had happened to his family. He bade Neria and her companions to rest, and to seek him out when they were ready to face what came next.
 
In the interim, the fortifications were reinforced. Owen, the village blacksmith, made repairs to damaged weapons and armor, and the militia got some much needed rest as the village prepared itself for another night of potential battle. The army had been dealt with, and now Teagan, the Warden and her companions needed to deal with the cause. 
 
It was mid-afternoon, about four hours before sunset and he was at the windmill, staring at the silent castle, when they joined him, having had a chance to sleep and eat. But before he could begin to discuss things, Isolde arrived, running down from the causeway, breathless and panicked.
 
His sister-in-law’s manner was secretive and suspicious, and Teagan didn’t trust that she spoke the truth. But if his family’s lives hung in the balance, then the only course of action was to enter the castle himself, perhaps distracting whatever was inside so Neria and her companions might get Eamon out. To that end, he gave Neria his family’s signet ring, and told them of the secret passage in the mill to the castle dungeons, so that they could enter the castle after he was gone. He would’ve preferred to go with her and her companions, but he couldn’t risk it. Isolde wouldn’t say what it was that had caused all this destruction, only that a mage had poisoned Eamon and summoned some sort of entity—perhaps a demon as Neria had suggested—and that it held Eamon, Isolde and Connor captive.
 
Isolde was near-frantic over Connor, and while she had always been over protective of the boy, Teagan couldn’t deny that her distress and worry seemed genuine. Whatever was wrong, Isolde truly feared for his nephew’s safety, and it made him deeply uneasy as he preceded her into the castle.
 
It wasn’t until he saw Connor that he realized just what kind of danger plagued Redcliffe. Fury such as he rarely felt overcame him as the real reason for what had happened became obvious. Damn that woman and her greedy, selfish ways! If only she’d gone for help earlier, all of the pain and suffering of Redcliffe might have been avoided. He remembered arguing with Isolde and Connor and then a red haze had come over him.
 
To his horror and shame, he clearly remembered talking and dancing for the amusement of his possessed nephew. He fought, struggled against the mental shackles, but could do nothing, not even when the situation descended into chaos and fighting erupted. He drew his sword and attacked the very people who had saved his life not even a day ago. Then he had found himself locked in an energy field, unable to move, watching as the guards were cut down. When the magical cage finally dropped, so too did the compulsion in his mind, and he found himself able to think again.
 
That’s when he learned everything that had happened.  
 
When she learned Connor was a mage, Isolde had kept it from Eamon. She hired an apostate blood mage sent by Loghain to teach Connor in secret. That apostate, Jowan’s, real agenda was to poison Eamon. 
 
In desperation, they removed Jowan from the dungeons below to try everything they could to save the boy, who was innocent of what the adults had caused through their machinations. 
 
Jowan suggested an alternate solution to killing Connor, one shot down immediately by Neria, and Teagan was inclined to agree with her. Even if he did trust the maleficar—and he didn’t—Jowan’s ritual required someone to die to fuel the spell. 
 
Now he stood in his brother’s hall, faced with the horrific choice of killing Connor—his nephew, a child—or sacrificing his brother’s wife in a blood magic ritual to cast the demon from the boy’s body. Before he’d left with Isolde to come to the castle, Neria had promised to get them all out of this alive. Teagan couldn’t see how that could happen now.
 
Teagan had never been so angry with his sister-in-law before. 
 
Neria stood frowning, looking at the hallway Connor had disappeared down. “I won’t use blood magic, but maybe we have time to get to the Circle. With enough lyrium, I should be able to enter the Fade and confront the demon.”
 
“But Connor will not stay passive forever,” Isolde fretted.
 
Teagan wondered if she was at all sorry for what had happened or if she just didn’t want to live with the consequences of what she’d done. But, if they could save his nephew and his brother’s wife, Teagan would take that chance.
 
“The tower can be reached by boat in a day. Go quickly and return. We may not have much time,” said Teagan. “Jowan says he wants to help. He can remain and keep an eye on Connor, help us deal with what comes out if the demon shows itself.”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The first few hours after they left, Teagan worried about his family and didn’t want to relax his guard again.  Connor seemed in control for the moment, and holding courageously to that control, but he was just a little boy, and Teagan worried they may not get back in time to help.
 
He ate, and when night fell, he was grateful he had managed to get some sleep earlier in the day. To keep his mind occupied and awake, he spoke to Jowan. He had just put Connor to bed, and now they waited for dawn.
 
“We have to be careful,” Jowan said. “Asleep his mind is especially vulnerable to her.”
 
Teagan nodded. Jowan paused, frowned, seemed as if he wanted to say something then shook his head, and finally spoke.
 
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know that means little now with the mess I’ve made of things, but I really am truly sorry. If it makes you feel better, know that Neria is the best, Irving’s star pupil. If it’s at all humanly possible to fix this mess, she’ll do it. She always gives you her best effort.”
 
“You speak as if you know her well,” Teagan noted.
 
“She is…was my best friend. I still consider her the best friend I ever had even if I’ve made a mess of that as well.”
 
There was silence for a bit, and then Teagan spoke quietly, “You know, she actually defended you to Isolde. She blames my sister-in-law and Loghain more than you. I wonder why that is. You certainly share quite a bit of the blame for this situation, yourself.”
 
“I don’t know,” Jowan admitted. “There is certainly nothing special about me to inspire such loyalty. I think that’s just how she is. If you want answers, I can’t give them to you. You’ll have to ask her.”
 
Teagan got the impression Jowan wasn’t telling him something, but as it seemed unimportant to the worries at hand, he didn’t press it. It seemed older, deeper and more personal than their current situation, and the last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument with the mage. Though it did make him curious just how close she was to the apostate and cast her motives in a slightly different light. Had he been more than just a friend to her, and her actions geared to save him from his fate? 
 
“I may just do that,” Teagan said, thoughtfully.
 
Somehow he managed to stay up the night, talking with Jowan about what they might expect should Connor slip into the demon again.
 
Once Connor woke again, Teagan managed to sleep, despite his troubled thoughts, with explicit orders to the guards to wake him if anything untoward happened. Surely the demon couldn’t control everyone in the castle all the time, but Teagan was taking no chances with his nephew’s life.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The bodies of the possessed had been gathered up and were burning while the corpses of the ones killed but not possessed had been stretched out along the shore for the living to attend and grieve.
 
Later that day the village began the first of the funerals, attending to the grief of those present and Teagan felt, as the ‘man of the family,’ that he should be in attendance in lieu of his comatose brother. Looking at the bodies of men, women and children as they lay out arranged and waiting to be pushed off in small burning boats, he again thought of all the villagers had lost, and grieved for them, but also extremely grateful there were people left to see to the bodies and grieve. So many dead, it would take a few days to properly see to all the corpses.
 
He looked to the horizon across the water. Neria and the others had set sail on Redcliffe’s fastest boat, but even if they went there, gathered what they needed and headed back immediately, he wouldn’t see its sails till tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.
 
Teagan suspected those last few hours before that moment were going to be the longest of his life.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Another day passed and as sunset drew near, there was still no return of Neria and her companions. Teagan tried not to let worry beset him, but as nighttime closed over Redcliffe, he paced nervously in his vigil.
 
“What can be taking them so long?” he grilled Jowan. “You don’t suppose they could have encountered trouble do you? I sent our best boatman with them to make the journey as swift as possible. The weather has held for optimum travel. They should have been back several hours ago.”
 
“I don’t know,” Jowan answered. “Maybe Greagoir is being stubborn, maybe they didn’t have enough lyrium on hand. It takes a lot to send mages into the fade. Maybe, I…I just don’t know….”
 
The way his voice broke off brought up new worries to Teagan’s mind.
 
“Maybe what? Is the Circle dangerous?”
 
“It can be. I got to those books on blood magic really easily considering how dangerous it can be. I was surprised to find them at all. If I could do it, others could and….”
 
No, Teagan definitely didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. Surely they just took a few hours to rest and recover from all that had happened. That’s all it was. Doubtless, sometime tomorrow he would see the boat return and all would work out for the best.
 
Looking at his nephew sleeping nearby, he couldn’t help the thought that she had to get back in time, because what he may just be forced to do otherwise was unbearable.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
It was late afternoon three days later when Neria finally returned. Despite his enormous relief to see them here, and that Connor hadn’t succumbed to the demon in that time, Teagan couldn’t miss their grim expressions, stilling the questions on his lips until they could be answered later. Something had happened at the Circle, and while the mages prepared, Alistair filled him in on the events they had found there.
 
“I’m sorry we worried you, Teagan,” Alistair said. “We had no way to get word to you and we had to free the Circle to get the First Enchanter here anyway. He was pretty beaten up, they all were, and needed some rest after their ordeal.”
 
“It’s all right, Alistair,” Teagan said with a smile. “Connor has been remarkably brave about the whole thing and he gave us no trouble while you were gone, though there were a few sticky moments on my part when you were gone longer than I had expected you to be. I’m glad that you all return safely, and I can sympathize with how they must have felt after their ordeal.”
 
“Alistair, Bann Teagan, we’re about to begin,” Neria called them.
 
As she prepared herself, Neria asked her mentor if he had any last minute advice. Teagan wasn’t sure he liked the old mage’s reply.
 
“From the sound of it, it is most likely a demon of desire, one of the more powerful in their hierarchy. It will likely try to engage you in conversation, make a deal with you. I would advise against it, it never ends well.”
 
Teagan had never seen lyrium before, but he knew about it and felt a stab of trepidation watching her. She approached the basin and passed her hand into the bowl, her fingers glowing blue.  When she slumped to the floor, Alistair barely had time to catch her, cradling her head in his lap. For just a moment, Teagan wanted to hold her and keep her safe, and it felt wrong to defer to Alistair.
 
Long minutes ticked away, no one spoke for fear of breaking the mages’ concentration as they kept her in the Fade. Teagan’s eyes had gone from Neria’s prone form to Isolde’s worried face to the faces of her companions, watching helplessly. There was only enough lyrium to send one mage into the Fade and Neria had volunteered. Would she have what it took to defeat the demon plaguing his nephew?
 
She seemed so tiny, surely she would be overwhelmed by whatever was in there.
 
After what seemed an eternity of waiting, she opened her eyes and sat up.


“Oh, Maker, I have the worst headache…” she murmured.
 
And it was done.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The mages had decided to stay a while to ensure Eamon’s sleep was untroubled and he didn’t slip further toward his demise. Isolde wasn’t comfortable with it, but she was overruled by Teagan. She had caused enough damage to his family, he wasn’t following her lead.
 
Neria and her companions would be departing for Denerim in the morning to meet with Brother Genitivi to try to find clues on the location of the Sacred Urn. He still half expected it to be a wild goose chase, but appreciated that Neria was at least going to try and find it. And she seemed to have the Maker’s own luck. He certainly hadn’t expected to survive to this day or for his family to remain intact. Perhaps even in this, her luck would hold.
 
Teagan had returned from riding Eilir, an activity that always settled him. Now that things with the demon were resolved and his brother’s family yet lived, he had been unable to think beyond that problem. A short hour’s ride in the pasture had cleared his head, and allowed some of the worry to move to the back of his mind for the moment, so he could work out what needed to be done.  
 
The days ahead would be filled as they continued to deal with the bodies, grieving families, and preparing Redcliffe for the fight against the darkspawn. Teagan didn’t want to contemplate the idea that his brother might not wake up, and it would be left to him to take the reins of Redcliffe, but it was just that overwhelming thought that had sent him to the stables seeking a respite, however fleeting, from his worries.  
 
Passing the library, he saw her sitting and reading within. She was alone and Teagan thought now was as good a time as any to get better acquainted with the woman who had saved Redcliffe. He knocked on the doorframe to get her attention.
 
She smiled up at him and once again it struck him how her face, pretty enough, could be transformed into something beautiful by the change of light or texture.
 
“Can I help you, Bann Teagan?” she asked.
 
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable and didn’t need anything. You’ve already done so much for me and my family, Neria. That you are willing to do even more…I find I can’t stop thanking the Maker for you.”
 
A blush spread becomingly along her cheeks and to the tips of her pointed ears.
 
Grinning, he pressed his advantage. He moved in to sit next to her on the sofa. She set the book she was reading in her lap and looked at him.
 
“I’m fine, thank you. I really enjoy your library here. I’ve only seen the one in the Circle tower—which is much bigger, of course—and the one in Lothering’s chantry, but this one is nice.”
 
“Leaving the tower after growing up there must have been very strange for you. What was it like? Your first glimpse of the world outside?”
 
“Everything seems so different. From inside the tower, the world seems so much smaller, yet larger at the same time. That first taste of freedom, it’s like chugging a huge lyrium potion as fast as you can.”
 
“I’ve never drank a lyrium potion before,” he said.
 
“How to describe it…?” Murmuring, she placed a finger to her lips, tapping them, thoughtfully. “First you can feel the tingling all over you, then a rush of warmth that quickly follows. Your heart races and then you feel the headache from doing too much magic at once subside. That moment, the rush of giddiness when the pain subsides, that’s what freedom felt like.”
 
He smiled, understanding the exhilaration she must have felt. That’s how he felt when he went riding, all troubles slipping away, the world consisting only of him and the animal beneath him becoming one in a physical activity that took away his worries if only for a time.
 
“At first, I half expected the templars to hunt me down anyway, even though Duncan kept assuring me they wouldn’t pursue us. Apprentices aren’t even allowed outside the tower walls. I had only just become a full fledged mage the night before.”
 
Duncan, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Teagan knew the name. Once things had settled down and they had a chance to, he and Alistair had caught up on all that had happened. He had spoken of Duncan with obvious affection.  But then Alistair had wanted to be in the Grey Wardens. What of Neria? Had she wanted to be a Grey Warden?
 
“A Circle mage among Grey Wardens. How did this come to be, if you don’t mind me asking?”
 
She frowned as if the memory wasn’t pleasant. Then, with a sigh, “You know the mage in your dungeon? Jowan?”
 
Teagan nodded. It would seem the answers about her and Jowan that he wanted would be coming, and far easier than he had anticipated.
 
“They were going to make him tranquil and he was terrified. Tranquil mages are cut off from their magic and the Fade. There’s no danger of possession then, but they also lose all their emotions, and for him that was a fate worse than death. And he…he loved a girl in the tower.”
 
“Another mage?”
 
“An initiate.”
 
Teagan blinked in surprise, he hadn’t expected that. But then even priests were only human, with human urges.
 
“I was taken to the tower when I was very young, I think maybe I was five. Jowan was a year older than I and had been there for a little while. He was the only one aside from Irving who made me feel like I belonged. I don’t remember my life before then. My earliest memory is of the tower. I don’t even remember them taking my blood for the phylactery.”
 
She smiled, obviously remembering better times.
 
“He was so clumsy and he tried so hard, but he would never let me help him. He insisted he wanted to do it all on his own.
 
“All my life that I could remember, he was the only friend I had. He swore that he was innocent, that he wasn’t a blood mage. He begged me to help him escape. I knew helping him was punishable by death, or at the least they would be making me tranquil, but I was the only one who would help him. And so I…helped him destroy his phylactery….”
 
Frowning, he realized what she was talking about. Jowan had made his escape and come to Redcliffe, wreaked havoc here with his actions and endangered everyone. Teagan felt the lion’s share of blame rested squarely on Isolde and Loghain’s shoulders, but Jowan was no innocent in the situation, and when he had learned what had happened Teagan had been tempted to execute the young man himself. At least now, with Neria filling in some of the blanks in the situation, he understood better why Jowan had done what he did.
 
What wouldn’t a man do for the woman he loved?
 
“I’m so sorry he came here Teagan, and that Loghain had the opportunity to hurt your family through him. I feel partly responsible for what happened here.”
 
Angry as he was with the apostate, Teagan couldn’t find it in him to be angry with her. She had been deceived, and she had risked death, or worse, for the sake of a friend. And she had worked so hard to undo the damage that had been done by her choice.
 
“Nonsense, I won’t hear of this kind of talk. You didn’t know what would happen when you helped him, and you risked much to do so yourself for the sake of friendship and love. And now you continue to undo all that has been done by risking much for my brother’s sake. But how does this relate to you becoming a Grey Warden?”
 
“Duncan was there looking for recruits for the Order and took me away before Greagoir, the Knight-Commander in the tower, could punish me.”
 
“Do you regret becoming a Grey Warden?”
 
“I helped a blood mage escape the tower. Even if I felt I had done nothing wrong, that I had been deceived, it wouldn’t have mattered. What awaited me there was death, or worse. Duncan told me it was a waste of my talents which could be better used against the darkspawn. So, no, I don’t regret becoming a Grey Warden, though I do regret the circumstances that led to it. And what has been done by Jowan since.
 
“I never would have had the chance to do all I’ve done, seen the things I’ve seen if I hadn’t been a Warden. If not for how I came to them, I would have been quite happy to be there. But I was so worried about Jowan that I was vexatious with Duncan and everyone I met. I must have been miserable to be around at first. But it’s not so bad now really. I also kind of wished I had gotten to know Duncan better. Alistair is wonderful, but I don’t think I am getting a wholly accurate picture from him as to the Grey Wardens.”
 
“I don’t think you’ve done so badly for yourself so far. You freed the Circle from rampaging blood mages and abominations. Now, you’ve saved Redcliffe and all that remains is restoring Eamon. That’s a lot for anyone, even a Grey Warden, to accomplish. I hope the rest of your efforts aren’t met with similar obstacles, but I suspect they will be no easier to accomplish than this had been.”
 
She shook her head. “I’ve just done what I have had to do to get the troops I need for the Blight. Right now, I can’t think beyond that. It’s all that matters.”
 
“Well, I can scarce credit it, though I know it’s true. I have faith in you, my lady. If anyone can restore Eamon, it’s you.”
 
She nodded and indicated the book, stuffed with note papers. “That’s why I’m in here, trying to figure out what Genitivi was doing or where he might have been going. I think this will require going back to Denerim after all. I should have known that if the answers were that simple, the knights wouldn’t have wandered so far off from Redcliffe. Still, I had hoped there would have been some clue someone might have missed.”
 
“If there is anything I can do to aid you, my lady, please tell me,” he said, earnestly.
 
She opened her mouth to speak, but then Alistair came in and Teagan sighed. When he had her by himself, she devoted her attention to him. When Alistair walked into the room it was as if he wasn’t there anymore. Teagan hooded his eyes so neither of them would see the disappointment there.
 
When he drew near her, Alistair put a hand to the nape of her neck and bent to kiss her. For just the briefest moment, Teagan saw the proprietary gleam in the younger man’s eyes as they flickered over to him.
 
The demon was dead, but the green-eyed monster was rampant in Redcliffe tonight.
 
“There you are, my dear. Hello, Bann Teagan. I’m bushed, Neria. Ready for bed?” Alistair asked. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
 
She nodded and rose from her seat.
 
“We’ll be departing early tomorrow, Bann Teagan. If I don’t see you then, farewell. We shall be back as soon as we can.”
 
“Of course, my lady, sleep well tonight.”
 
From the way they teased each other as they left the room, Teagan doubted sleep was on either of their minds.

[sylvanaerie]

Departures
 
Teagan didn’t really have time to miss them. Over the next several weeks he sent missives to the absent knights of Redcliffe and organized the militia, preparing Redcliffe for the conflict to come. He also began hiring mercenary companies for the coming fight, and there were disputes over the farmlands that remained to be resolved.
 
The stench of burning bodies continued to hang over Redcliffe for the next several days as the funerals continued, and they disposed of the bodies left from the raids. Fortunately, the prevailing winds eased that up after a few days until only the lingering smell of smoke remained along with the ever present smell of fish that was normal for Redcliffe village.
 
During those early days of waiting for Neria’s return, successful or not, Isolde’s expression when she did emerge from the rooms she shared with her husband was wretched. She blamed herself for what had happened and Teagan, without words, had left her with no doubts that he, too, blamed her for this. 
 
When he had first learned all that she had done, he wanted to throttle her, but he’d calmed down considerably as days passed, enough to where he could stand looking at her. It was made considerably easier to deal with when she spent most of her time locked in Eamon’s room, tending her husband.
 
Jowan had been locked in the dungeon again to await Eamon’s decision as to his fate. Neria had actually asked that he be released since she felt he had changed, but Teagan had refused that request. For one, it wasn’t his place to determine the young man’s fate, and for another Jowan had to face the consequences of what he had done. In his conversations with the young man, he realized whatever Jowan had been prior to the situation, he was a man willing to accept his culpability, and the punishment for it, whatever it was to be. It came as a bit of a surprise to him, and Teagan actually respected Jowan’s desire to make amends and accept responsibility for what he had done.
 
It had also eased his mind a bit to learn from Neria Jowan’s motives for doing what he did. While it didn’t excuse him, and Teagan was still angry at what had happened to Redcliffe and his family, he at least was able to feel some sympathy for the young man.
 
Nor did Teagan intend for Loghain to get away with this attack on his family. He prayed for the safe and quick return of Alistair, Neria and their friends. Eamon’s Landsmeet was Ferelden’s last hope to unite under one general and battle the Blight. Clearly, considering the debacle that had been Ostagar, and the chaos of the months following, Loghain wasn’t the general they needed in this crisis. But was a young woman, barely more than a child herself, and a mage-child at that, more capable? Having seen her accomplish so much in Redcliffe, he felt confident she was.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Three weeks later, he was in the main hall talking to Ser Perth about Redcliffe’s defenses. There was no telling when or where the next skirmish with the darkspawn might happen. There had been sightings in the bannorn and it was just a matter of time before Redcliffe would also be hit.
 
The lookout he had posted signaled the return of the Warden and her companions, and Teagan was eager for some good news after all the hard work of the past few weeks.
 
Turning his attention from the knight to the young mage, Teagan saw her striding over to them with confidence, head held high, her dark blue robes swishing around her feet, the silver embroidered vines and leaves dancing light from the torches on the walls.
 
Smiling, overjoyed to see her, Teagan was almost afraid to hope she might have just managed to pull off the impossible and found the last remains of a prophet missing for a millennium.
 
“You’ve returned! Have you found the ashes?”
 
In answer she smiled and pulled from her belt a small pouch.
 
“Time to wake him up,” Neria grinned.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
After two days of consciousness, Eamon was refusing to take any further rest after his ordeal, and already his politically geared mind was working toward dealing with Loghain and the darkspawn issues. Though Teagan was an adequate substitute, he knew he wasn’t the statesman his brother was and to his immense relief, he didn’t have the burden of that responsibility on his shoulders anymore. Though he was worried Eamon was taking on too much too soon after his brush with death, too much needed doing that only Eamon himself could attend to and so little time was left to them.
 
Retiring to his room for the night, Teagan heard raised voices from the room Alistair and Neria shared. Concerned for them both, he paused to listen.
 
“I can’t believe you lied to me about this, Alistair!”
 
The look of shock on Neria’s face when she had learned of Alistair’s parentage had made Teagan regret bringing it up in the manner he had. It wasn’t his fault Alistair hadn’t told her before then, and Teagan would have found a more tactful way to tell Neria about Alistair’s father than just having it blurted out in discussion with Eamon.
 
But the deed was done, and all any of them could do was deal with it as best they could.
 
“I didn’t…exactly. I meant to, I really did, but the right time just didn’t present itself. Neria, I didn’t want to lie to you, it’s just, all my life whenever someone did find out who I was, who my father was, they always treated me differently. I wasn’t ‘just Alistair’ anymore but the ‘bastard prince.’ I…I liked it that you treated me like just another person you knew, a brother Grey Warden, as just the man you wanted to be with. I wanted you to like me for me. I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”
 
“A lie by omission is still a lie! This is big, Alistair! You’re Maric’s son, I…I don’t see how this can end happily,” she said.
 
“So…what are you saying? That we should just end it?”
 
“Loghain is our biggest obstacle to stopping the Blight, and Anora is doubtless in support of her father. You’ll have to be made king if anything is to be done. Neither one of them is going to listen to reason. From what Eamon says, she clings to that throne like it’s all she’s ever wanted, and Loghain can’t be reasoned with, even if we wanted to.”
 
“Please tell me I didn’t just hear you talking about compromise with Loghain!” Alistair snapped.
 
“Alistair, that’s not my point, and stop trying to distract me. Let me finish,” she sighed. “I’m an elf, and a mage. Once you’re king, I’ll have no place in that life, especially as a Grey Warden.”
 
Alistair didn’t sound so sure himself, and Teagan could hear the desperation in his voice. Beyond losing the girl he obviously loved, Alistair was terrified of the prospect of becoming king.
 
“Neria, that’s not going to happen, Eamon made it very clear to me growing up that I was a threat to Cailan, had no place on the throne, and that I’m a commoner. How many more ways do I have to say it? I know he’s singing a different tune now, but that’s not going to happen.”
 
“I’m just…afraid…I’m afraid things are changing too fast and I can’t keep up.”
 
Suddenly ashamed of eavesdropping, he continued walking down the hall to his own room a few doors down from theirs. Retrieving a book from a shelf along the wall, he sat on his window seat to read a bit. It was one of those hot, midsummer evenings and the castle could be stifling. Perhaps the evening breeze would offer some respite before he went to sleep.
 
He had left his door ajar to allow as much air to flow through as possible and he heard a door slam in the hallway. A moment later, Neria walked past, and didn’t seem to notice where she was going. Teagan frowned, put down the book, and went into the hall after her.
 
“Neria,” he called.
 
She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
 
“I’m sorry, Bann Teagan, I’m not very good company right now.”
 
There was something about the set of her shoulders that told him she really shouldn’t be alone right now. He followed her into the hall, took her elbow, and guided her back to his room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Remarkably, she didn’t fight him on it, and when he shut the door to the rest of the keep she turned around and laid her head on his shoulder, sobbing.
 
Tears made Teagan distinctly uncomfortable as many noblewomen used them as weapons against their men. Isolde could weep at the drop of a hat, and Eamon never saw the expression that came over her face once she had her way with him. After seeing that not long after they’d been married, Teagan swore he would never abide that kind of behavior in a wife. It was tears she had used to get him into the castle, and nearly cost them all their lives. It was one reason, not the only one of course, that he was still a bachelor at almost two score years of age.
 
He got the feeling, though, that tears didn’t come easily to Neria. Certainly she felt things as other women did, and doubtless expressed them, but he was having trouble reconciling tears with the image he had of her. Part of his discomfort was that it was so unexpected from her now.
 
Momentarily at a loss for what to do or where to put his hands, he put his arms around her in a reassuring hug, and let her cry on his shoulder. After a bit, she cried herself out, and just stood there, sniffling and getting her feelings back under control.
 
“Feeling better now?” he asked.
 
For a moment, she nodded, and then shook her head. That she was very conflicted was easy to see.
 
“He lied to me about who he is. He let me fall in love knowing who he was, and with Cailan dead, he’s the last of the Theirin line.”
 
He could have taken advantage of the situation and lied. It would have been so easy to play on her pique and seduce her, ridding himself of this maddening fascination once and for all by going to the source for relief instead of a very willing substitute. Here she was, in his arms and vulnerable, beautiful and ripe for the taking.
 
He closed his eyes, his conscience struggling with his need. He’d never had a woman unwilling, and wasn’t about to start now, and taking her in this state would be as bad as taking her against her will.
 
Somehow he had to find the words to ease her pain.
 
“In his defense, Eamon has told him all his life he would never be king. I don’t think Eamon or Alistair ever expected this situation to come up. If Anora had given birth to a child, it wouldn’t have had to.”
 
She sighed and swatted his shoulder peevishly. He raised one brow at her thinking she had gone mad.
 
“Thanks for reminding me. I know what I have to do, I just don’t want to do it. I wanted to live in the lie just a little longer.”
 
He said nothing just holding her as long as she let him. After a bit, with a sigh, she stepped away, her feelings back under control.
 
“It’s been a long day, I think,” she mused. “I should find somewhere to sleep tonight that isn’t with him.”
 
Maker’s breath! Was she saying what he thought she was? No, it wasn’t an invitation, she was moving toward the door to leave.
 
“Stay in my room,” he offered, quickly.
 
“I’m…not comfortable with that, Bann Teagan. I do appreciate the sentiment, though.”
 
Despite his earlier feelings, that hadn’t been his intent when he made the offer.
 
“No…I mean…well, you take my bed and I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
 
“I can’t do that. This is your home, I don’t want to put you out.”
 
“Well, technically, it’s Eamon’s home, not mine. I see to Rainesfere….”
 
“Now you want to split hairs with me?” she snapped. “I just went a round with Alistair, I don’t have it in me to go any more with anyone else tonight.”
 
“Then, please, my lady, I owe you so much and I consider you my friend. Take this room, I’ll go elsewhere tonight.”
 
Then she giggled, as if the silliness of their dance of manners amused her. He grinned, at least he’d broken through the tears.
 
“Maybe you can bunk with Alistair,” she offered.
 
He laughed. “I think not, the boy makes more noise than an Archdemon when he sleeps.”
 
“He’s not that bad…and he only snores when he’s overtired.” Then her eyes lit up with humor, too. “Oh, I see, you’re just teasing me! Thank you, Bann Teagan.”
 
She cast another glance at his bed, frowning.


“It really isn’t a good idea, Teagan, though I appreciate the offer. I’ll find another room.”
 
“I really don’t mind, but it’s your choice, of course. I was going to read a bit until I get tired, I never sleep well when it’s this warm out. If you just need to talk, now or later, I’ll be awake for a while.”
 
“I’m so exhausted I think the Archdemon could land on the castle and I wouldn’t hear it.” She cast a glance at the door, then stepped toward it.
 
He moved towards the door, pausing as he reached for the handle to open it for her. “Good night, Neria. Try to get some rest.”

“Good night, Bann Teagan.” She paused to turn her large eyes on him. “Thank you for listening. I think I really needed someone to talk to tonight. I don’t know how you knew that when I didn’t know, but thank you.”
 
He stood for a moment watching her go, a frown of concern creasing his brow. Her quiet whisper floated back to him, though he didn’t think she intended for him to hear it, it was that still tonight.
 
“I know what I have to do. Maker, give me strength….”

[sylvanaerie]

AN: Yes, I know Teagan isn’t in the Denerim Landsmeet scenes, but I figured he would be there for the Landsmeet to support Eamon and Alistair, as he would have a vote as well. I don’t know why Bioware forgot to put him in there. Most of the dialogue is taken from the game itself, with some original stuff by me, mostly mirroring my own thoughts as I was playing the game.
 
The dance of politics can be as deadly as war, and frequently leaves as many casualties.
 
Conflict
 
Upon arrival in Denerim that morning, they barely had time to settle in before Loghain arrived with Arl—Teyrn Howe, an appellation that stuck in Teagan’s throat like bile—and Loghain’s lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien. Teagan watched as they exchanged words with Eamon, Alistair and Neria in the estate’s main hall.
 
The general wasn’t looking too well. The angles of his face were sharper, the eyes peering almost feverishly bright from within sockets surrounded by dark circles. It would seem the weight of what he had done, and was continuing to do, was taking its toll on his peace of mind. At least Teagan hoped it was. No sane man could do what Loghain had done and not be troubled by it.
 
As the regent and his escort approached, Eamon greeted them. “Loghain. This is…an honor, that the regent would find time to greet me personally.”
 
Loghain’s voice was tight with animosity, his tone critical. “How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord away from his estates when a Blight claws at the land?”
 
At least he recognizes that this was a Blight. Better late than never, I guess, Teagan thought.
 
“The Blight is why I’m here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden must have a king to lead it against the darkspawn.”
 
“Ferelden has a strong leader, its queen. And I lead her armies.”
 
Beside Eamon, her voice very quiet, Neria spoke, “Considering Ostagar, perhaps we need a better general.”
 
Loghain turned and looked at her, studying her for a moment, his brows knitting together.
 
“And who is this, Eamon? Some new stray you picked up on the road? And here I thought it was only royal bastards you played nursemaid to.”
 
Alistair muttered something under his breath Teagan couldn’t quite catch, making out only the word ‘royal,’ but his expression was a strange mixture of horror and animosity.
 
“I’m Neria, of the Grey Wardens,” she replied.
 
Loghain paused, then, “You have my sympathies on what happened to your Order. It’s unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden.”
 
Neria sighed, her tone betraying her impatience. “Enough of this, when does the Landsmeet begin?”
 
Cauthrien frowned. “Don’t interrupt, churl, your betters are speaking.”
 
Loghain put up a hand. “Enough, Cauthrien, this isn’t the time or place. There is talk your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some feel you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden.” 
 
Now it was Eamon’s turn as he responded in tightly clipped words, barely controlling his outrage. “Illness? Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these…” he gestured dismissively at Howe and Cauthrien, “sycophants.”
 
“How long you’ve been gone from the Landsmeet, Eamon. Don’t you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Teyrn of Highever?”
 
“And current arl of Denerim, since Urien’s unfortunate demise at Ostagar. The regent has been…generous to those who prove loyal.”
 
He heard Neria mutter under her breath. “Bootlicking appears to be profitable these days.”
 
Loghain sighed softly, his tone more reasonable, though Teagan was unsure how much of that was an honest desire to find common ground, or simply to patronize his brother. “I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened. Our king is dead. Our land is under siege.
 
“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?”
 
Teagan’s brows knitted together in outrage. How dare he invoke her name?! He had no right, not after what he did to her son! It was all he could do not to snap angrily at the man, but this was Eamon’s show, and Teagan trusted his brother to do what was right.
 
Loghain’s anger was slipping through, as he punctuated the statement with frustrated gestures towards Eamon, “You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne.”
 
Teagan stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough when he heard Neria mutter under her breath, “Pot, meet Kettle.” Then she said louder, “You’re the one who divided Ferelden.”
 
Loghain didn’t seem to appreciate her pointing that out. He turned on her, no longer even attempting to disguise his contempt. “I was not talking to you.”
 
“I cannot forgive what you’ve done, Loghain,” Eamon sounded so old and tired to Teagan. “Perhaps the Maker can, but not I.” His voice gained strength as he spoke. There was conviction in it now. “Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight.” 
 
“Oh, is that all I have to do? No pressure,” Alistair replied.
 
Loghain stepped very close to Eamon in an attempt to invade and dominate the other man’s space, his eyes narrowing.  Eamon held his ground, returning Loghain’s glare. Teagan could almost see the invisible gauntlet being tossed in Eamon’s face.
 
“The Emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down. Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland.”
 
With that, the battle lines were drawn. Loghain turned and departed with his escort. Once they were gone, Eamon let out a breath.
 
“Well, that was…bracing,” he said in obvious relief. He regarded Neria. “I didn’t expect Loghain to show himself so soon.”
 
Neria closed her eyes, a frown between her brows. “So, where do we go from here?”
 
“Calling the Landsmeet is just the beginning,” Eamon replied, almost matter-of-factly. “Now we must ensure that every noble here sees Loghain’s duplicity. It is no small task we have ahead of us. We need eyes and ears in the city. Loghain has been here for months building his support. The roots of all his schemes must begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage.
 
“I would suggest going out, speak to the other nobles, see where they stand, what kind of support we can expect.”
 
A maid approached them. “Arl Eamon, you have a visitor. She’s says it’s urgent.”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The visitor proved to be Erlina, Anora’s handmaiden. The queen was presently being held in the Arl of Denerim’s estate as a prisoner of Howe. Although none of them trusted Anora, the trap—if such it was—had already been laid, and if they could get her to ally with them, it was a risk worth taking.

It was decided that a small group might be able to slip in, under disguise as guards to find and free Anora, preferably with as little bloodshed as possible. Thus, Neria took three of her companions and left for the arl’s estate.
 
Neria and her group had been gone most of the day by the time Teagan finally decided to go get something to eat at the Gnawed Noble and maybe find out who among Ferelden’s nobles would be supporting them.
 
It was a clear evening, the sun beginning to dip low toward the horizon. They had maybe another hour or two at most of daylight left, the late afternoon shadows beating back the oppressive heat of summer’s last days, making it a pleasant walk through the market. He saw Habren arguing with a silk merchant and shook his head. Bryland really needed to rein in that girl. There was more to nobility than rich clothing, and looking down your nose at everyone.

Entering the cooler interior of the tavern, he saw Arl Wulff sitting near the door, his wife next to him, her plate untouched, and their lovely daughter, Edwina, trying to coax her mother into eating something. He’d already spoken to Edwina and learned that West Hills was overrun and the Wulff family had lost both their boys to the darkspawn. He wouldn’t intrude on them, he didn’t need to. Even in his grief, Wulff was blunt and no nonsense. Teagan knew the arl would be voting with whomever he felt would deal with the Blight most effectively. 
 
His eyes moved past them to Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak, sitting with Bann Ceorlic. Ceorlic was a lost cause because of the bad blood between his family and the Theirins and would most likely support Loghain. Sighard, however, wasn’t as easily read. He would start there.
 
“Good evening, Sighard, Ceorlic,” he greeted them as he approached the table.
 
“Good evening, Teagan,” Sighard smiled as he approached. “It’s good to see you, despite the circumstances that bring us here. Perhaps you can tell us what Eamon’s playing at here? He really hasn’t found a long lost bastard son of Maric’s has he?”
 
“Indeed he has,” Teagan said. “Alistair is a good man, he’ll be a fine king, and he’s a Grey Warden. He takes this Blight seriously, and he’ll get things done.”
 
Ceorlic scoffed. “Surely Anora can deal with this as capably. I’d much rather see her on the throne than some unacknowledged bastard. Who’s to say the Mac Tirs can’t rule as capably as the Theirins?”
 
It wasn’t Anora so much as Loghain’s actions that condemned her chances in Teagan’s eyes. “Yes, because the Mac Tirs have been doing such a fine job at stopping the Blight themselves up to now.”
 
Sighard slid over to let Teagan sit down and order a meal while they chatted.
 
Sighard frowned. “To be honest, I don’t care who rules Ferelden as long as we stop the Blight. There’s been too much upheaval, and I’m missing both my children now.”
 
“What’s happened to Oswyn and Leah?” Teagan asked.
 
“Oswyn disappeared and Leah insisted on looking for him. At least I received a letter from her the other day letting me know she was in the Bannorn, and safe, but I worry. I wish she would come home, whether or not she found her brother.”
 
“At least you know she’s alive. Wulff lost both his boys when West Hills was evacuated.”
 
“I heard. Poor man,” Sighard sighed.  
 
“I understand the ones putting forth this ‘bastard’ are the Grey Wardens. Aren’t they supposed to stay out of politics?” Ceorlic sniffed.
 
Teagan shrugged. “I think they’re more concerned about the general and the queen’s lack in dealing with the Blight than in actually grasping at the throne.”
 
Ceorlic stood, his stiff posture betraying his anger. “Sighard, I need to go rest a bit. I’ll be in my rooms if you wish to discuss this further.”
 
Sighard grinned. “Well, it isn’t hard to see where your loyalties lie, Teagan.”
 
“They will always be with my brother. You’ve known me a long time, Sighard. Trust me when I say Alistair is the man for the job.”
 
The front door opened behind them and Sighard looked up, surprise, shock, anger and relief running the gamut across his face. Teagan’s eyes followed his as he turned to see the young man entering the tavern. Standing, Sighard ran over to embrace the tall, blond man who entered—his son.
 
Oswyn could barely walk, and was being assisted by a young elven man who also looked like he’d seen better days. Most of his superficial wounds and bruises looked as if they had been healed already, but by the limp, Teagan wondered if any amount of healing was going to restore his mobility. Supporting Oswyn from his other side, he helped the elf, whom Oswyn called Soris, take the young man to the rooms the Dragon’s Peak contingent had rented for their stay. Once he had been given something to drink, and propped up comfortably on some pillows, and those nobles who gathered to gawk had been shooed back out the door, he told his tale.
 
“When Damian went missing, I went out to find him, and the trail led to Denerim. But I got careless, one of Howe’s men drugged my drink and kidnapped me. I thought I was going to die in those dungeons.”
 
“How did you escape?” Sighard asked.
 
“The Grey Wardens found me. There was a woman, an elf. She healed me so I could get back here.” His gaze turned to Teagan. “Howe told me the Landsmeet had been called off, that Arl Eamon was dead. She said this wasn’t true. Was she right?”
 
“She’s right,” Teagan affirmed. 
 
“Howe did this? Who else?” Sighard’s voice was dangerously close to exploding. “Was Thomas involved as well?”
 
“No, I didn’t see him, just his father. I heard Teyrn Loghain talking to someone in one of the other cells down there too.  They were looking for information on the Wardens, and on the banns rebelling against the regent. There were others in the dungeons as well. I saw Ser Irminric down there. At least I think it was him.”
 
“Alfstanna will want to know,” Teagan said. “Why Irminric I wonder? He hasn’t been involved in politics since he joined the templars ten years ago.”
 
“That’s a good question,” said Sighard.
 
Enilda, Sighard’s wife, entered with a tray for her son, shooing out the others. “Enough questions, he needs some food and rest now.”
 
Pausing in the hall, Sighard took Teagan’s arm. “I swear, Eamon will have my full support at the Landsmeet, Teagan. I’m taking dinner with Reginalda of White River bannorn tomorrow, and we will discuss this. Howe will pay for what he’s done!”
 
Entering the common room, Teagan saw Alfstanna and Bryland were gone. Bann Regina of Southern Plains approached him, a curious light in her jade green eyes.
 
“So, what was all that business, Teagan?” she asked. “Oswyn makes a dramatic entrance, and not long after that an elven woman came in and said something to Alfstanna and she and Bryland raced out of here like an ogre was on their heels.”
 
Teagan smiled. “I think what you saw was Loghain’s support crumbling.” He regarded the lovely, dark haired woman. She seemed well, but then, Regina always presented her best face forward. “So, Regina, how have you been?”
 
She chuckled. “Not so bad. Southern Plains hasn’t been hit that hard.” Her eyes darkened. “Though some of the other bannorns we passed through were not as lucky. We just have some minor bandit problems, nothing much to worry about. Harland is taking care of that while I deal with this Landsmeet.”
 
He recalled Southern Plains had been one of the few bannorns who hadn’t chosen sides in the civil war. Harland Williams was an older gentleman farmer, about his brother’s age and a good, reliable man, and frequent ally of Eamon in the Landsmeet. “And Harland?”
 
“He’s well, thank you, if that’s what you’re asking. We hope to have that issue resolved by the time I return home so we can all deal with this Blight.”
 
“As do I. Speaking of returning home… if Neria’s returned, I need to go home and see what’s happened,” Teagan said. “Forgive me, Regina, I’d stay and chat, but….”
 
“Go, Teagan, I’ll see you at the Landsmeet. And, Teagan, let your brother know he has our full support,” Regina assured him before he left.
 
Alistair, Neria, their companions and Anora were eating in the dining hall when Teagan returned. Anora hadn’t been mistreated in Howe’s dungeon. He doubted even Howe would harm Loghain’s daughter, at least not unless he thought he could get away with it. Once he sat down to listen, Teagan got the full story from the others. 

Not only was Howe dead, but Cauthrien as well. Vaughan and Irminric were both free from the dungeons, earning Eamon support from Waking Sea, Denerim and South Reach.
 
With Anora present, Teagan resolved to talk with his brother later about what he’d learned in the Gnawed Noble. Watching Anora, who ate quietly, chatting in polite tones, Teagan tried to gauge her mood. She seemed none the worse for her adventure in Howe’s estate, but she was always an enigma to him, hiding her emotions well. He wondered what game she was playing now.
 
“Tomorrow we go deal with whatever it is that’s going on in the Alienage,” Neria said. “Frankly, I just want this done and over with. I pray the archdemon doesn’t decide to march the horde on us while we all sit around with our heads up our—”
 
Alistair coughed, “Neria!”
 
Teagan chuckled. At least he felt more optimistic than she did.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The next day, they had their answers. 
 
Slavery. Maker! Loghain had been selling the elves to Tevinter magisters to pay for his mercenaries. They weren’t sure exactly how many had already been shipped out, but it was confirmed that nearly two score men, women and children were gone. Perhaps more, but Neria was unsure how many had been lost to slavers, and how many to the illness sweeping through the Alienage. He claimed to be doing all this for Ferelden, but to resort to kidnapping, murder, torture, slavery? Where did he plan to draw the line? How much of Ferelden was going to be left to deal with the Blight if he continued unchecked? And if they did deal with the Blight, and succeed, how much of their way of life was already lost by Loghain’s heinous actions?
 
It was as if the Orlesians had never left.
 
Madness! 
 
Teagan was glad the Landsmeet was convening today. With luck, they would carry the day.
 
In the carriage ride, Alistair for once was quiet, his face pale. That he was nervous was evident. Neria seemed upset as well, and her eyes were red as if she had been crying all night. Eamon was coaching Alistair on what to do and say, and Teagan smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging fashion at Neria.
 
“It’s going to be all right, you’ll see,” he said to her. 
 
Her smile was tremulous and nervous, and she looked away from him to stare out the window, making him wish he could do more to ease her distress. He glanced at Alistair who watched him with the expression of a drowning man and tried to smile reassuringly at him. The poor boy looked like he was going to throw up.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Neria failed to win Anora’s vote, but she had the full backing of the gathered nobles, and the voting was almost unanimous in the Grey Warden’s favor, only a few of the older banns supporting Loghain.
 
Despite his daughter’s support, Loghain was removed as regent. The entire proceedings then dissolved into a free for all between Eamon’s knights and Loghain’s troops as Loghain refused to yield, until the Grand Cleric stepped in and called for peace. A duel of honor was called for to settle the dispute and Alistair served as his own champion. Once Loghain yielded, Teagan breathed a sigh of relief. Now, they could deal with the Blight, and hopefully soon the archdemon would show itself and it would be over. 
 
To the surprise of everyone present, once the duel was done, Alistair removed Loghain’s head from his shoulders. Although execution was typically a traitor’s punishment, and Alistair was certainly within his rights, something about the way it was done bothered Teagan. At the very least, he felt Loghain should have been removed from the Landsmeet chamber to the tower to await his fate.
 
Perhaps it wasn’t the most auspicious way to start Alistair’s rule, but it was definitely decisive. He’d certainly changed since Teagan had last seen the frightened, heartbroken child sent to the Chantry. From the letters Alistair had sent, he doubted it was the Chantry that had done this. Perhaps it was the time he had spent with the Wardens, coming into his own as a confident, and decisive young man. Or maybe that had been Neria’s doing. Love changes a man.
 
Regardless, for better or worse, the Landsmeet was done.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
The forces gathered in Redcliffe, but news reached them via Riordan that the archdemon and the darkspawn horde were marching on Denerim. There was no way they could reach the city in time, but they had to try. 
 
Teagan was supposed to remain in Redcliffe to defend it, but he felt he would be needed more in Denerim. So he planned on getting a good night’s sleep and sneaking among the soldiers in the morning. With any luck, by the time anyone found out, they would be too far on their way to Denerim to send him back. Eamon was just coddling him anyway. With Connor a mage, Teagan was even more important now to the Guerrin bloodline. He could just hear Eamon’s lecture on bloodlines and duty to family in his head.
 
He passed by Alistair’s room and thought of the two young people who had given up so much for the sake of Ferelden. Teagan knew Neria and Alistair were no longer together. Both of them looked miserable, and Neria looked as if she hadn’t slept since the Landsmeet. 
 
Teagan felt the tragedy of it.  It was a shame that politics and duty should come between them.
 
Neria stood in the hall, waiting for him outside his room. He raised a brow at her.
 
“Teagan, I have a question for you.”
 
“If I can answer it, of course.”
 
“Am I selfish? I mean, is it selfish to want to live? To want…someone…else to…not die…when you know you can do something about it?”
 
“Everyone wants to live, Neria. That’s not selfish,” he said. “Might I ask what this is about?”
 
“I asked Alistair to do something he won’t like because I…know what he’ll do in the battle if I don’t stop him.”
 
“Right…clear as mud, my lady,” was his baffled response.
 
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I’ll go to my room now.” She stepped away from him.
 
“Neria.”
 
She paused at the sound of her given name. 
 
“If you ever want to just talk, I’ll listen,” he tried to reassure her.
 
She didn’t turn and her voice floated over her shoulder to him. “It’s too soon, Bann Teagan, though I appreciate it. And thank you for your answer.”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
When they got the news, the horde was two days out from Denerim. Forcing themselves, they were able to reach the capitol in five days.
 
The city had seen heavy battle, but the damage wasn’t nearly as bad as Teagan had feared it would be. He also saw some of the troops fighting in Gwaren’s colors with its wyvern standard on their shields. Anora at first refused to take an oath of loyalty, but after a week in the tower, she changed her mind, swore her fealty and returned to Gwaren. She must have sent Gwaren’s army here when she heard, buying time for the full army to reach the city.
 
He threw himself into battle, trying not to think of Neria and Alistair in the city, fighting the horde. He tried not to think beyond the next thrust, the next parry, driving back the enemy.
 
When a brilliant light flashed from the top of Fort Drakon, he looked up. Light and force rippled away from the roof in an ever increasing wave. Earlier, he’d seen the archdemon crash on top of the tower, and wondered if the explosion heralded its demise.
 
The horde began to break and run almost immediately, without direction, no longer a galvanized force. He felt someone bump into him, but he barely felt it, his attention rapt upon the spreading ring of light from the rooftop.
 
Who had made it to the final battle? And who had survived?

[sylvanaerie]

AN: With this update the tale comes to an end, and returns full circle to the first story I wrote of this pair. Should you wish to read more, the story of Teagan and Neria continues in “Threshold”, which can also be found here.
 
My thanks to Lady Damodred, who always keeps me from making some pretty silly mistakes in my tales, helping me find the words I want to express in a gracious manner that is always helpful and encouraging. Though we don’t always see eye to eye, we usually find an accord somewhere in the middle, and quite often she is the muse behind some of my more inspired ideas. 
 
My thanks to those who read my story, I hope you’ve enjoyed it. 
 
Disclaimer: All rights to Dragon Age and its associated properties belong to Bioware, not I.
 
A New Dawn
 
Two weeks later, Alistair strode up the steps to receive his crown and the Maker’s blessings on his reign. It felt strange to Teagan, the man was so like Maric it was uncanny. For a moment, seeing Alistair on the dais, it was as if they’d slipped back in time.
 
He knew Alistair was nervous, but Teagan suspected he was going to be all right. With Eamon to ease some of the awkwardness of his initial few weeks on the throne, the qualities the new king shared with his father would come to the fore. Alistair was going to make a fine king.
 
Neria was there as well. It was said by those on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, with some awe, that it was she who had struck the killing blow on the Archdemon. The poor girl should’ve been celebrating along with everyone else, but she looked as if she hadn’t a friend in the world, though everyone spoke about her with such glowing praise.
 
Teagan knew fame wasn’t the same as friendship. He wanted to offer her consoling words, but after their talk outside his room the night before they marched to Denerim, she had been closed off, letting no one get past the misery she wrapped around herself like a suit of armor.
 
The Blight was over, and he had hoped she would be relieved and happy like the rest of the kingdom. Maybe she was, about that at least, but in her personal life, she wasn’t. She was trying to hide it, but the dark circles under her eyes persisted, and she wasn’t eating like she should. 
 
Alistair, normally gregarious, had said maybe ten words to him since this had all been resolved.  He spent most of the past two weeks in quarters with Eamon coaching him on the coronation and what needed to be done those first few months following the Blight. As king, Alistair could expect to bury his concerns in a mountain of duties, and responsibilities. People needed goals, purpose, and ties to the world of the living to give them hope and a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
 
He wished he could do more to help them both.
 
Teagan also had duties of his own in Rainesfere that he would be leaving to attend to tomorrow. A messenger arrived from Rainesfere about troubles with continued darkspawn raids, nothing too serious, but it would need looking into once he returned. Compared to such world shaking events as a Blight, it would be easily enough attended to.
 
He could only watch helplessly as Neria walked up the steps to the throne where Alistair stood nearby. Her brave front crumbled when she took Alistair in her arms and kissed him, making the room go quiet in stunned surprise. It was a desperately poignant gesture. Then she stepped away from him, looked at him for a long moment, and then walked out of the room.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Alistair summoned Teagan after the proceedings to speak to him, and he began without preamble as soon as they were alone.
 
“Teagan, I’m worried about Neria,” he said.
 
Breathing a sigh of relief that they could be honest with each other, Teagan nodded. “As am I.”
 
“She won’t let me in anymore. When we were dealing with the Blight, she was able to keep her mind off…things…but now that we aren’t…I’m worried for her.”
 
“I had thought of that. Duty often gives you something to focus on when you’re troubled.”
 
“Exactly. I have the whole country to run, but with no Blight, the darkspawn will be going back underground soon. She may decide to go to Orzammar and….” He frowned. “That would be bad, very bad, Teagan.”
 
“But I thought Grey Wardens delve into the deep roads all the time?”
 
“Not solo…not…well, I don’t know her plans for sure, but I’m worried about her,” Alistair explained.
 
Was he saying she would do harm to herself? Was she really that depressed?
 
“What can I do to help?”
 
“Eamon tells me there are troubles in Rainesfere, possibly darkspawn troubles.”
 
“So my seneschal tells me. I thought darkspawn go back underground after a Blight.”
 
“Usually they do, sometimes there are stragglers though,” Alistair confirmed. “I’m not looking for a long term distraction, just something to give her a little push until she can come to terms with all that’s happened. Maybe a little time in the country, some distance from the pressures of court and unwanted attention here, leading us against an archdemon, and it might get her mind off…other…things. I think it will do her some good. I was hoping you might keep an eye on her, get her mind off…things. An investigation might be just what she needs for it.”
 
“It may indeed. But don’t you think it might be better for you to keep an eye on her?” Teagan inquired.
 
Frowning, Alistair shook his head. “I’d love to keep her close. Not just because I still care for her, but because I’m worried about her. She isn’t taking care of herself. But she begged me to give her some distance and time. As much as I hate it, I have to admit she may be right. I think we both need this separation.”
 
“I assumed she would be rebuilding the Wardens? Setting up things in Amaranthine with the Orlesians? That would get her out of Denerim for a while, and still keep her close enough to you that you can check up on her on occasion.”
 
“The last time I spoke the word ‘Warden’ to her, she broke into tears, Teagan. She spent this past year holding us all together. Including me. She became the Wardens for me after Duncan died. I was grieving, but that’s no excuse. It really wasn’t fair of me to do that to her. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a young, sheltered mage from the circle.
 
“With a break, she’ll get her head on straight, and be good as new before too long. But until then, she needs something to do that isn’t going to put her in Amaranthine around a bunch of other Wardens.”
 
“Where she’s just reminded every day about what’s happened. I see.”
 
Teagan nodded. Alistair seemed to be taking this well, but he could tell that his heart was breaking, too.   Alistair was right, maybe they both needed a little time apart to come to terms with the way things had ended.
 
Teagan pondered what might be done to address this concern. “Connor is heading to the tower tomorrow. I was going to accompany him, and she can come along with us. Having a friendly, familiar face on hand will hopefully ease his transition into the circle. I’ll ask her to help me once we’re away from Denerim and she’s had a chance to breathe.”
 
Alistair breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Teagan, I knew I could count on you.”
 
To be honest, Teagan wanted to help, but he really wanted to spend more time with Neria. Beyond that, she was a good woman, and he, like all of Ferelden owed her so much. 
 
Maybe it was time to help the Hero of Ferelden, even if she didn’t realize she needed it.