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The Rescue -- Completed 8/1/11
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Sialater
, janv. 17 2010 07:16
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#127
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 03:15
Phoenix Swordsinger
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Zevran, Minister of Foreign Affairs. Love it!
#129
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 01:49
Sialater
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Part 13
Fergus Cousland had been startled to find the Chancellor of Ferelden on his doorstep two hours after sunset on the first day of the Remembrance Day festivals. The Teryn had recovered quickly, his handsome but heavy-featured face breaking into a grin at his visitors. The Cousland family had a history of being friendly to elves and Moira knew she and Zevran wouldn’t be looked at askance unlike in some of Bannorn holdings.
Teagan had introduced them, blood spattered and out of breath as they all were from the mile-long sprint through the city. “Teryn Cousland, may I present Chancellor and Warden Commander Moira Surana,” Moira bowed, slightly. “Zevran Aranai, Ferelden’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Cullen of Lake Calenhad, Grey Warden recruit.” Perrin barked, not to be forgotten, “Oh, and last but not least, Lady Surana’s Mabari, Perrin,” Teagan finished, laughing.
Fergus laughed, and grasped Moira’s arm in greeting as she grasped his. “Greetings, Chancellor. My house is yours. Are you here for Remembrance Day?”
“No, Teryn Fergus, I am not, sadly.” Moira shook her head, “If you have somewhere private we might meet, I am afraid I have unpleasant news.” Fergus looked at Moira and her companions. In all her studies, she’d read of the Couslands and their unfailing kindness and loyalty to the throne of Ferelden and the Thierin bloodline with only a couple of notable exceptions. Their judge of character was usually infallible, as well; one of only miscalculations had been Rendon Howe. But then, even Loghain Mac Tir had fallen victim to that worm tongued serpent.
Fergus had ushered them into his study and shut the door, “What can I do for you, Chancellor?”
Moira stood, somehow, after all this time, still slightly uncomfortable in a room full of humans and men she outranked, even if they were friendly. It made her feel like she was fresh out of the Tower again. “The King is away from the country at the moment. He was called away during the winter to Weisshaupt.”
Teagan cleared his throat, “But why? I thought you were the Warden Commander?”
“I do not know. I can only speculate on their reasons. We did communicate with them, after the Battle of Denerim, to ask for reinforcements and to tell them the fates of the other Ferelden Grey Wardens. We sent the same letters to Orlais and Tevinter and the Free Marches. Everyone else replied, saying they would send reinforcements eventually, but they were glad to know Alistair and I had everything well in hand. Weisshaupt only sent a letter back demanding the Warden Commander Alistair Thierin attend them.” She looked up at the two men, she could hear Zevran’s leather armor creak as he crossed his arms behind her – he’d come to the same conclusion she had, after all. “I’ve had no letters from him since last one, which was a tersely worded ‘I’m here.’ He may be a Grey Warden, but he is the King of Ferelden first.
“The King of the Anders is weak. The Grey Wardens rule there. If, in fact, they’ve taken the King of Ferelden prisoner….”
Fergus growled, Teagan said, his voice angry, “Why would they declare war on Ferelden?”
“Why did Orlais invade? Their cattle stock is low? They need more sheep? We’re dreadfully weak after a Blight and a Civil War and think they can get away with it? Alistair wouldn’t break and hand them the keys to his kingdom so they could have control of a second country in Thedas?” Moira shrugged her shoulders in her armor. He wouldn’t tell them why we both survived? She added silently.
Zevran cleared his throat and stepped forward, “It could also be only one part of a larger plan we cannot yet see.” Fergus and Teagan both looked rather alarmed at that thought.
“There is also trouble still in the Tower. Either blood mages reinfiltrated, or we missed a few during the Cleansing. There is also a large underground lyrium trade we’ve come across. I do not yet know if these are related to Alistair’s disappearance. Oghren has had some trouble with bandits, Teagan. They were trying to shake him down for lyrium, assuming that because he’s a dwarf and near the Tower, he’d have a large supply. I told him to go to Redcliffe if things got too hot.” Moira had begun to pace while she spoke. Once again, she felt as much out of her element as she had at Lothering, taking command, wondering if anyone would listen to a woman, a mage, an elf. And this time, she didn’t have her fellow Grey Warden, her love, watching her back. “Lyrium smuggling is always going on, but this is the worst I’ve seen it since the Blight.”
Teagan nodded at her, “I’ll stop at Lake Calenhad on the way back home and check on him.”
Relief washed over her, a large weight she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders. She really had been worried about Oghren and his family. “Thank you, Teagan.”
Fergus cleared his throat, “What can Highever do, Chancellor?”
“Well, for starters, I need a fast ship to the Anderfels,” she told him.
“Tough to do this time of year with the spring storms, but I should be able to find one within the week,” he assured her. She wanted to snarl at the delay. A week!
“There’s nothing to be done about the rest of it at the moment, I don’t think. I do ask that you both watch for anything unusual in your respective provinces. The Tower will have to fend for itself for now. I cannot help Irving and Greagoir until I’ve gotten Alistair back. The king is the priority,” Moira told them.
Fergus excused himself, “I must see to your accommodations, Chancellor. And get started on that ship.”
“At this hour?” Teagan asked, surprised.
“Truth be told, my friend, the captains that are in dock are probably awake and carousing at this hour,” Fergus laughed. “Which is where we should be, if the news wasn’t so dire.” The Teryn excused himself.
“Cullen, please help the Teryn,” Moira ordered quietly. With a scowl, knowing he was being gotten rid of, Cullen followed Fergus.
“You need to watch your back, my friend. If it was known you were friends of the King and his Chancellor, things might not be safe for you, either,” Zevran said once Cullen had closed the door.
“Are you really the Minister of Foreign Affairs?” Teagan asked Zevran, grinning.
The Antivan shrugged, “If it is prudent to give me such a title, I’m sure I’ll answer to whatever it is our dear Warden calls me.”
Moira rolled her eyes at both of them, “How is Redcliffe, Teagan?”
“Quiet, since Arl Eamon took his wife to Denerim,” he chuckled at Moira’s shudder. “Ah, I see Isolde is still winning friends and influencing people.”
“She keeps trying to be the ‘society leader’ of Denerim. She picks out one more dress for me…,” she said, chuckling.
“The fearsome Grey Warden mage conquered by silk and crinoline? That would be a sight to see!” Teagan chuckled. “I imagine you looked lovely, however.”
“Like something out of a bard’s tale,” Zevran said. The elf had taken up a position near the fireplace where he could watch both the large window and the door.
“The high heels were worse,” Moira made a face. “If it weren’t for Alistair and Zev, I’d have fallen on my ass.”
Teagan raised an eyebrow at Zevran who grinned, “She leaned on one or the other of us all evening. At least until she could take the heels off and hide them.”
Moira shook her head sadly, “You are a cruel, cruel man, Zev. Telling my secrets like this.”
“I have far more wild horses could not drag from me, my Warden,” he bowed with an entertainer’s flourish.
Teagan laughed, “I think I will go back to the festivities. My Lady? Ser Aranai?” They returned his mock formality, laughing.
When the Arl had left, Moira turned to Zevran. “I have a favor to ask you and you’re not going to like it.”
“When have I ever not liked doing something for you, my fair Warden?” Zevran asked.
Moira sighed, “Find Cullen and get cleaned up. Then take him down to that festival and find someone to take the edge off. Someone experienced enough to deal with him should he get violent.”
Zevran frowned, “You realize he’ll try to find someone that looks like you.”
“Steer him away from that. He needs to stop thinking about me like that, especially if I’m to be his commanding officer. Not to mention, I already belong to someone.”
“And don’t I know it,” thought Zevran. Aloud, he said, “You’re right, I don’t like this. This estate is hardly secure. That was proven before Ostagar.”
Moira nodded, “I know, Zev. I’ll have Perrin with me, though. But I think getting him to relax is a priority here. We’re going to be stuck on a ship with him for a month, at least. That’s awfully close quarters for him to continue thinking like he is.”
Zevran shook his head, “A woman of loose morals isn’t going to cure him, you know. He is confused on whether you’re his savior or his damnation, not just a woman.”
“We take the mystery of sex out of the equation and maybe he’ll come down on the right side of that fence, Zev. But being on a ship with him is not going to be comfortable in his current state,” Moira pointed out.
Alarm bells were still ringing in Zevran’s head for Moira’s plan, but he had to admit her logic was sound. He looked at the woman to whom he’d pledged his life and his freedom one strange day what seemed a long time ago. She hadn’t yet learned to wear armor, so she’d been in one of those scanty mage robes that still seemed to protect the wearer no matter how few strips of cloth were placed on the body. Her shorter black hair had been tied up in the back in a tail, but strands still fell to frame her face. Her storm-cloud blue eyes had been wide with anger, her small, full lips were tightened in a narrow, furious line. She’d had the beautiful Lelianna standing behind her, and the wonderful Wynne. But most importantly, looming over her and forever at her back, was Alistair. He’d been wearing the armor she now wore and glaring down at Zevran. Zevran had been utterly impressed by the imposing contrast of the sunlight and moonlight in the Grey Wardens; it would have taken a less poetic soul than his to not be stuck by it. The elf wondered, not for the first time, if he’d known how thoroughly she’d confuse him and wrap him around her little finger, if he’d not just begged for her to finish him off instead of begging for his life. And knowing, would he really have chosen differently? His voluntary service to her was far less onerous than his previous masters, and she genuinely cared for him, just not in the way he would prefer.
“If this is what you wish, I know of a few places that can accommodate our former Templar,” Zevran said. He wasn’t really able to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Moira closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Then what do you think we should do about it, Zevran?”
“Pressuring him to ‘relax,’ as you so poetically put it, my Warden, is a bad idea,” Zevran said, crossing to her. He put his hands on her armored shoulders, “It would just make him uncomfortable. And possibly much angrier with you.”
Moira dropped her hand and looked up at her friend, “All right, I’ll trust you on this. I already trust you with my life, after all.”
She looked so tired, suddenly, that Zevran gave into the urge to hug her and say, “It will all work out, my dear Warden.”
Fergus Cousland had been startled to find the Chancellor of Ferelden on his doorstep two hours after sunset on the first day of the Remembrance Day festivals. The Teryn had recovered quickly, his handsome but heavy-featured face breaking into a grin at his visitors. The Cousland family had a history of being friendly to elves and Moira knew she and Zevran wouldn’t be looked at askance unlike in some of Bannorn holdings.
Teagan had introduced them, blood spattered and out of breath as they all were from the mile-long sprint through the city. “Teryn Cousland, may I present Chancellor and Warden Commander Moira Surana,” Moira bowed, slightly. “Zevran Aranai, Ferelden’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Cullen of Lake Calenhad, Grey Warden recruit.” Perrin barked, not to be forgotten, “Oh, and last but not least, Lady Surana’s Mabari, Perrin,” Teagan finished, laughing.
Fergus laughed, and grasped Moira’s arm in greeting as she grasped his. “Greetings, Chancellor. My house is yours. Are you here for Remembrance Day?”
“No, Teryn Fergus, I am not, sadly.” Moira shook her head, “If you have somewhere private we might meet, I am afraid I have unpleasant news.” Fergus looked at Moira and her companions. In all her studies, she’d read of the Couslands and their unfailing kindness and loyalty to the throne of Ferelden and the Thierin bloodline with only a couple of notable exceptions. Their judge of character was usually infallible, as well; one of only miscalculations had been Rendon Howe. But then, even Loghain Mac Tir had fallen victim to that worm tongued serpent.
Fergus had ushered them into his study and shut the door, “What can I do for you, Chancellor?”
Moira stood, somehow, after all this time, still slightly uncomfortable in a room full of humans and men she outranked, even if they were friendly. It made her feel like she was fresh out of the Tower again. “The King is away from the country at the moment. He was called away during the winter to Weisshaupt.”
Teagan cleared his throat, “But why? I thought you were the Warden Commander?”
“I do not know. I can only speculate on their reasons. We did communicate with them, after the Battle of Denerim, to ask for reinforcements and to tell them the fates of the other Ferelden Grey Wardens. We sent the same letters to Orlais and Tevinter and the Free Marches. Everyone else replied, saying they would send reinforcements eventually, but they were glad to know Alistair and I had everything well in hand. Weisshaupt only sent a letter back demanding the Warden Commander Alistair Thierin attend them.” She looked up at the two men, she could hear Zevran’s leather armor creak as he crossed his arms behind her – he’d come to the same conclusion she had, after all. “I’ve had no letters from him since last one, which was a tersely worded ‘I’m here.’ He may be a Grey Warden, but he is the King of Ferelden first.
“The King of the Anders is weak. The Grey Wardens rule there. If, in fact, they’ve taken the King of Ferelden prisoner….”
Fergus growled, Teagan said, his voice angry, “Why would they declare war on Ferelden?”
“Why did Orlais invade? Their cattle stock is low? They need more sheep? We’re dreadfully weak after a Blight and a Civil War and think they can get away with it? Alistair wouldn’t break and hand them the keys to his kingdom so they could have control of a second country in Thedas?” Moira shrugged her shoulders in her armor. He wouldn’t tell them why we both survived? She added silently.
Zevran cleared his throat and stepped forward, “It could also be only one part of a larger plan we cannot yet see.” Fergus and Teagan both looked rather alarmed at that thought.
“There is also trouble still in the Tower. Either blood mages reinfiltrated, or we missed a few during the Cleansing. There is also a large underground lyrium trade we’ve come across. I do not yet know if these are related to Alistair’s disappearance. Oghren has had some trouble with bandits, Teagan. They were trying to shake him down for lyrium, assuming that because he’s a dwarf and near the Tower, he’d have a large supply. I told him to go to Redcliffe if things got too hot.” Moira had begun to pace while she spoke. Once again, she felt as much out of her element as she had at Lothering, taking command, wondering if anyone would listen to a woman, a mage, an elf. And this time, she didn’t have her fellow Grey Warden, her love, watching her back. “Lyrium smuggling is always going on, but this is the worst I’ve seen it since the Blight.”
Teagan nodded at her, “I’ll stop at Lake Calenhad on the way back home and check on him.”
Relief washed over her, a large weight she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders. She really had been worried about Oghren and his family. “Thank you, Teagan.”
Fergus cleared his throat, “What can Highever do, Chancellor?”
“Well, for starters, I need a fast ship to the Anderfels,” she told him.
“Tough to do this time of year with the spring storms, but I should be able to find one within the week,” he assured her. She wanted to snarl at the delay. A week!
“There’s nothing to be done about the rest of it at the moment, I don’t think. I do ask that you both watch for anything unusual in your respective provinces. The Tower will have to fend for itself for now. I cannot help Irving and Greagoir until I’ve gotten Alistair back. The king is the priority,” Moira told them.
Fergus excused himself, “I must see to your accommodations, Chancellor. And get started on that ship.”
“At this hour?” Teagan asked, surprised.
“Truth be told, my friend, the captains that are in dock are probably awake and carousing at this hour,” Fergus laughed. “Which is where we should be, if the news wasn’t so dire.” The Teryn excused himself.
“Cullen, please help the Teryn,” Moira ordered quietly. With a scowl, knowing he was being gotten rid of, Cullen followed Fergus.
“You need to watch your back, my friend. If it was known you were friends of the King and his Chancellor, things might not be safe for you, either,” Zevran said once Cullen had closed the door.
“Are you really the Minister of Foreign Affairs?” Teagan asked Zevran, grinning.
The Antivan shrugged, “If it is prudent to give me such a title, I’m sure I’ll answer to whatever it is our dear Warden calls me.”
Moira rolled her eyes at both of them, “How is Redcliffe, Teagan?”
“Quiet, since Arl Eamon took his wife to Denerim,” he chuckled at Moira’s shudder. “Ah, I see Isolde is still winning friends and influencing people.”
“She keeps trying to be the ‘society leader’ of Denerim. She picks out one more dress for me…,” she said, chuckling.
“The fearsome Grey Warden mage conquered by silk and crinoline? That would be a sight to see!” Teagan chuckled. “I imagine you looked lovely, however.”
“Like something out of a bard’s tale,” Zevran said. The elf had taken up a position near the fireplace where he could watch both the large window and the door.
“The high heels were worse,” Moira made a face. “If it weren’t for Alistair and Zev, I’d have fallen on my ass.”
Teagan raised an eyebrow at Zevran who grinned, “She leaned on one or the other of us all evening. At least until she could take the heels off and hide them.”
Moira shook her head sadly, “You are a cruel, cruel man, Zev. Telling my secrets like this.”
“I have far more wild horses could not drag from me, my Warden,” he bowed with an entertainer’s flourish.
Teagan laughed, “I think I will go back to the festivities. My Lady? Ser Aranai?” They returned his mock formality, laughing.
When the Arl had left, Moira turned to Zevran. “I have a favor to ask you and you’re not going to like it.”
“When have I ever not liked doing something for you, my fair Warden?” Zevran asked.
Moira sighed, “Find Cullen and get cleaned up. Then take him down to that festival and find someone to take the edge off. Someone experienced enough to deal with him should he get violent.”
Zevran frowned, “You realize he’ll try to find someone that looks like you.”
“Steer him away from that. He needs to stop thinking about me like that, especially if I’m to be his commanding officer. Not to mention, I already belong to someone.”
“And don’t I know it,” thought Zevran. Aloud, he said, “You’re right, I don’t like this. This estate is hardly secure. That was proven before Ostagar.”
Moira nodded, “I know, Zev. I’ll have Perrin with me, though. But I think getting him to relax is a priority here. We’re going to be stuck on a ship with him for a month, at least. That’s awfully close quarters for him to continue thinking like he is.”
Zevran shook his head, “A woman of loose morals isn’t going to cure him, you know. He is confused on whether you’re his savior or his damnation, not just a woman.”
“We take the mystery of sex out of the equation and maybe he’ll come down on the right side of that fence, Zev. But being on a ship with him is not going to be comfortable in his current state,” Moira pointed out.
Alarm bells were still ringing in Zevran’s head for Moira’s plan, but he had to admit her logic was sound. He looked at the woman to whom he’d pledged his life and his freedom one strange day what seemed a long time ago. She hadn’t yet learned to wear armor, so she’d been in one of those scanty mage robes that still seemed to protect the wearer no matter how few strips of cloth were placed on the body. Her shorter black hair had been tied up in the back in a tail, but strands still fell to frame her face. Her storm-cloud blue eyes had been wide with anger, her small, full lips were tightened in a narrow, furious line. She’d had the beautiful Lelianna standing behind her, and the wonderful Wynne. But most importantly, looming over her and forever at her back, was Alistair. He’d been wearing the armor she now wore and glaring down at Zevran. Zevran had been utterly impressed by the imposing contrast of the sunlight and moonlight in the Grey Wardens; it would have taken a less poetic soul than his to not be stuck by it. The elf wondered, not for the first time, if he’d known how thoroughly she’d confuse him and wrap him around her little finger, if he’d not just begged for her to finish him off instead of begging for his life. And knowing, would he really have chosen differently? His voluntary service to her was far less onerous than his previous masters, and she genuinely cared for him, just not in the way he would prefer.
“If this is what you wish, I know of a few places that can accommodate our former Templar,” Zevran said. He wasn’t really able to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Moira closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Then what do you think we should do about it, Zevran?”
“Pressuring him to ‘relax,’ as you so poetically put it, my Warden, is a bad idea,” Zevran said, crossing to her. He put his hands on her armored shoulders, “It would just make him uncomfortable. And possibly much angrier with you.”
Moira dropped her hand and looked up at her friend, “All right, I’ll trust you on this. I already trust you with my life, after all.”
She looked so tired, suddenly, that Zevran gave into the urge to hug her and say, “It will all work out, my dear Warden.”
#130
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 03:12
ReubenLiew
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Yay updates!
I bet you it was Teagan, that sneaky bastard *nods*
I bet you it was Teagan, that sneaky bastard *nods*
#131
Guest_Oomagh_*
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 06:50
Guest_Oomagh_*
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... I only stumbled onto this story today... I wonder how I could have missed ..
it is 11:45 am and I have been reading all morning, and slowly, so I would not miss a thing.
Sia, I have to thank you for a terrifficly entertaining story! you have a wonderful imaginition and your style is exactly how I like reading it.
I hope it never ends and you write book...
it is 11:45 am and I have been reading all morning, and slowly, so I would not miss a thing.
Sia, I have to thank you for a terrifficly entertaining story! you have a wonderful imaginition and your style is exactly how I like reading it.
I hope it never ends and you write book...
#132
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 07:07
Sialater
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Oomagh wrote...
... I only stumbled onto this story today... I wonder how I could have missed ..
it is 11:45 am and I have been reading all morning, and slowly, so I would not miss a thing.
Sia, I have to thank you for a terrifficly entertaining story! you have a wonderful imaginition and your style is exactly how I like reading it.
I hope it never ends and you write book...
Thank you! It's certainly turning out to be longer that I thought!
Reuben: It's not Teagan.
#133
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 07:12
Sialater
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I would like to thank the ladies (and gents) in this thread:
http://social.biowar...47/index/515188
without whom Zevran would be a shell of a character. Reading their interpretations of him has really helped the characterization.
http://social.biowar...47/index/515188
without whom Zevran would be a shell of a character. Reading their interpretations of him has really helped the characterization.
#134
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 07:13
ReubenLiew
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Damnit! You got away this time, Teagan, but I'll get you yet, mark my words!
#135
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 07:25
Herr Uhl
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Aww, no sexytime?
And 'twas Teagan for sure, he is trying to usurp the Therin bloodline once and for all *shakes fist at him*
Edit: Damn my slow reading skills, and you are just in denial anyways.
And 'twas Teagan for sure, he is trying to usurp the Therin bloodline once and for all *shakes fist at him*
Edit: Damn my slow reading skills, and you are just in denial anyways.
Modifié par Herr Uhl, 27 janvier 2010 - 07:26 .
#136
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 07:25
AdorableAnarchist
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Yay, Sia! Thanks for giving me something pleasant to look at while at work! This is such a great story.
#137
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 10:35
Sialater
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I'm thinking I'm going to have to move this to another site with just a link. Part 14 may raise some mods' eyebrows.
#138
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 11:05
AdorableAnarchist
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Wooo and Hooo!!! Can't wait to read it!
#139
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 11:08
Tasmen
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ReubenLiew wrote...
Damnit! You got away this time, Teagan, but I'll get you yet, mark my words!
Better watch out for the Bannhammer!
#140
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 11:10
Tasmen
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Sialater wrote...
I'm thinking I'm going to have to move this to another site with just a link. Part 14 may raise some mods' eyebrows.
By all means...hurry up and move it if that means sexybits.
#141
Posté 27 janvier 2010 - 11:12
Miliat
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I am very very curious about the next part now more than I was before, since you say you are going to need to link it. lol
#142
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 12:51
Kulkodar
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As usual, this installment is enthralling and such a tease! Linky linky! Next part please 
#143
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 12:54
AdorableAnarchist
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Mmm, sexy bits... Need something to read so I can forgo chores while Hubby is playing ME2.
#144
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 02:13
Sialater
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Well, I can't do anything on ff.net till Saturday, so I'll be posting part 14 here. It is NSFW (I don't think it's that bad, but I have no idea what the mods' standards are). You have been warned. (And my Cousland Rogue has a cameo.)
Part 14
Moira stayed hidden in the Teryn’s estates. She had no desire to cause more of Teagan’s men, or Fergus’, to lose their lives because of her. She also had no desire to join in the apparently raucous celebration whose cacophony seemed to reach even the Cousland estates. She’d taken to wandering the halls, restlessly, unable to sit still and wait for a ship. She’d have read, her sole comfort when she was stressed, but the Teryn hadn’t yet replaced all the books that had fallen victim the fire that had ravaged the estate after Howe's treachery. Another reason for Howe to burn in the Black City, she supposed. She saw no real reason to wear dresses around the estates, but every time she turned around, her pants were missing for one reason or another and a dress was in their place. Today, she’d found a wide-necked navy blue gown laid out for her with silver embroidery climbing the sleeves and sprawling around the hem and up the front of the dress to the arrow-waisted bodice. The bodice had enough boning in it a corset was unnecessary, thankfully, but the wide, low-cut front made her feel like she was on display and that drowning in her own chest might be a danger. Fortunately, at least the shoes were silver slippers, not heels. She doubted Fergus was responsible for this torture, but she had every intention of finding out who had decided to dress her up like some sort of doll. At least no one had come to do her hair, it was free to hang down her back.
As she wandered down one of the main halls, she found a portrait gallery. Silently, she stared at the progenitors of one of the oldest families in Ferelden. There was the first painting, the Cousland who’d stood up to Alistair’s ancestor when he united Ferelden. She wandered further down the hall, examining a family that had existed long before the country she’d been born in was formed at the point of a sword. Fergus caught up to her, at the end of the hall and the last two portraits. “My family,” he said, quietly over her shoulder.
“I know.” Bryce Cousland stood proudly in the rear, looking over his family, his son at his side. Fergus’s dead wife sat next to her dead daughter in law, a small boy, Fergus’ son, if she remembered correctly, sitting cross-legged at their feet. A daughter, not yet sixteen, stood with her long auburn hair unbound at her mother’s side. The next portrait was of this girl, a little older, a little more experienced, standing facing a young man with flame red hair, his face unlined and smiling.
“That was my sister. She died in Howe’s attack. Emma. She and Ser Gilmore died in the main hall, trying to give my mother and father time to escape. They’d been in love. It irritated father no end, since he was a commoner, but mother was happy with the idea. All she wanted was grandchildren.” Fergus let out all the information in a rush, as if he’d been saving this story for someone to tell it to.
“I killed him. Or rather, we killed him. Alistair, Zevran, Wynne and I. I don’t know which of us landed the killing blow, but he died cursing and gasping. Vitriolic to the end. He was a snake. And his family is no more, Fergus. When Alistair found out what he’d done, he wanted to dig him up and kill him all over again,” Moira said quietly.
Fergus let out a loud breath, “I’m glad to hear that. Wish I could have been the one to kill him, however.”
Thinking of Uldred and Loghain, Moira shook her head, “Revenge is never the answer you think it is. “
Fergus shrugged, “Still would have made me feel good. My mother and sister, my wife, Howe’s men made them suffer.”
“I know.” She decided not to tell him how much worse it would have been. The Blight unchecked, the women taken below ground. “But the hangover from revenge is a ****.”
He laughed, “I did find you for a reason. I think I’ve found a ship. The Siren’s Call. I’ll tell you about it on the way to dinner.”
Moira felt the blush start at her feet and hit the top of her head in 2.3 microseconds. She looked away and cleared her throat. “Captain by the name of Isabella?”
Fergus laughed and slapped Moira on the back, heartily. “Oh, ho! You’re acquainted with the good captain, I see! You saucy minx!”
“Uh, she taught me a few things a while back.” Taught Alistair a few things, too, she thought to herself. If it were possible, she felt the blush deepen.
Fergus roared with laughter, “She said she’d leaving in two days, with or without you.”
“I suppose I should go let her know we’ll be joining her then,” Moira replied, her voice resigned. Meeting Isabella again was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least.
She and Fergus began walking down the hall together, Fergus laughed. “When she heard it was a Grey Warden from Ferelden she’d be transporting, she left her ship to come meet you. I didn’t tell her which of you it was, though.” He laughed as she blushed again.
The two of them entered the dining room where Zevran, Cullen and Teagan stood at Moira’s entry. She’d been unable to find any of them today, not that she’d looked very hard. But Zevran at least, had always been there, it was puzzling that he’d been avoiding her. There was a fourth person there, Moira turned red for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes upon seeing Isabella rise at her entrance, too. The roguish pirate captain was standing next to Zevran and both of their eyes started at her head and traveled down then back up, wearing identical possessive grins. Cullen merely looked thunderstuck as if he had nothing left to think with and Teagan just grinned, widely. Moira froze in embarrassment, wondering if she could yank the tablecloth off the table and cover herself with it.
Isabella sauntered over and Fergus went to take his place at the head of the table, leaving her alone with the pirate captain. The auburn haired woman grinned at Moira’s expression, “It’s so good to see you again, my dear.” And before Moira could move, the captain’s hands stuck out and cupped her chin. Moira found herself being thoroughly kissed hello. In spite of herself, she kissed back, the woman was just that good of a kisser. However, when Isabella’s tongue touched her lips, Moira jerked away. “Pity,” Isabella said, running a finger across Moira’s décolletage, causing her to shiver. Grinning, she turned and put her arm around the smaller elven woman and led her to the empty spot at Fergus’ right hand, directly across from Teagan and next to Zevran. Isabella sat at the foot of the table.
She glared at Zevran out of the corner of her eye, he grinned impishly but under the table took her hand and squeezed it. Cullen glared at her from his place next to Teagan as if she was the one who’d done something wrong. Teagan was carefully spreading butter on a roll and not looking at her. Fergus was grinning as if he’d just seen the funniest thing ever. She wondered if Isabella would have done the same thing if Alistair were here and decided they’d have both probably gotten the same greeting. The pirate captain slouched in her chair, a tankard of ale in her hand. “I come ashore to find a passenger or a party and end up with both! I love my life! Thank you for your hospitality, Teryn Fergus.”
Fergus laughed, “I had no idea you knew the Chancellor that well, Isabella. I’d have introduced you sooner!”
Moira resisted the urge to unleash a blizzard on the room and escape. Ale. Ale would help. Flashes of how she’d learned the finer arts of Dueling so she could show Zevran and Lelianna intruded as she swallowed her ale, quickly. It had been a one-time thing, and she was never supposed to run into Isabella again. Isabella’s hand ran up Moira’s inner thigh while Alistair kissed Moira. She met Isabella’s gaze and the pirate’s sun-and-wind-weathered eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. Oh, Maker give her strength to get through this meal. She. Would. Not. Run. She clutched Zevran’s hand harder. The assassin came to her rescue, “So, Isabella, what brings you to Highever?”
“I’d heard about this week-long party the Teryn was throwing. You know me, Zev, I can’t turn away the chance to carouse a little!” Isabella took a drink of her ale. “I just got lucky two old friends happened to be in town looking for a ride.” Moira and Teagan both choked on their ale, Zevran and Fergus both laughed loudly. Cullen stared at his plate, studiously stirring his soup.
Isabella finally noticed the ex-Templar, “Introduce me, Zev, Moira?”
Zevran grinned, Moira hadn’t yet recovered her voice. “That is Master Cullen of Lake Calenhad, Grey Warden recruit.” Moira didn’t know where Cullen had gotten the clothes, but the blue shirt and light grey vest went well with his dark blond curls. It seemed to make his shoulders broader, too.
“Let me guess, another ex-Templar?” Isabella was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
Zevran chuckled, “That he was, yes. Late of the Circle Tower.”
Isabella’s smile became absolutely predatory. Cullen flushed, starting at the base of his neck, “I see you haven’t taught this one anything yet, Sweetness,” she said to Moira. “Your other one came to me mostly trained.” Fergus and Zevran roared with laughter.
Moira grinned, in spite of herself. “Well, I’ve decided to limit myself to just the one ex-Templar, Isabella. It’s so tiring breaking in new ones.” Moira winked at Cullen, the more embarrassed he acted, the worse Isabella would get. The other three men laughed at that verbal riposte.
“Ah, but once they are trained, they never forget, do they.” Isabella grinned at Moira.
Isabella’s tongue in her mouth, Alistair’s hands roaming over her body… Moira shivered slightly but grinned back, “They do tend to stay trained if trained properly, that is true.” Isabella laughed, raising her tankard in acknowledgement of Moira’s point.
“To Remembrance Day,” Isabella called out, raising her tankard in a toast.
The rest of the meal passed companionably, once Moira’s composure returned. She kept catching the occasional speculative gaze from Fergus and Teagan, however, and Cullen couldn’t look at her without glaring at her. Under the table, Zevran kept his hand on her knee.
Part 14
Moira stayed hidden in the Teryn’s estates. She had no desire to cause more of Teagan’s men, or Fergus’, to lose their lives because of her. She also had no desire to join in the apparently raucous celebration whose cacophony seemed to reach even the Cousland estates. She’d taken to wandering the halls, restlessly, unable to sit still and wait for a ship. She’d have read, her sole comfort when she was stressed, but the Teryn hadn’t yet replaced all the books that had fallen victim the fire that had ravaged the estate after Howe's treachery. Another reason for Howe to burn in the Black City, she supposed. She saw no real reason to wear dresses around the estates, but every time she turned around, her pants were missing for one reason or another and a dress was in their place. Today, she’d found a wide-necked navy blue gown laid out for her with silver embroidery climbing the sleeves and sprawling around the hem and up the front of the dress to the arrow-waisted bodice. The bodice had enough boning in it a corset was unnecessary, thankfully, but the wide, low-cut front made her feel like she was on display and that drowning in her own chest might be a danger. Fortunately, at least the shoes were silver slippers, not heels. She doubted Fergus was responsible for this torture, but she had every intention of finding out who had decided to dress her up like some sort of doll. At least no one had come to do her hair, it was free to hang down her back.
As she wandered down one of the main halls, she found a portrait gallery. Silently, she stared at the progenitors of one of the oldest families in Ferelden. There was the first painting, the Cousland who’d stood up to Alistair’s ancestor when he united Ferelden. She wandered further down the hall, examining a family that had existed long before the country she’d been born in was formed at the point of a sword. Fergus caught up to her, at the end of the hall and the last two portraits. “My family,” he said, quietly over her shoulder.
“I know.” Bryce Cousland stood proudly in the rear, looking over his family, his son at his side. Fergus’s dead wife sat next to her dead daughter in law, a small boy, Fergus’ son, if she remembered correctly, sitting cross-legged at their feet. A daughter, not yet sixteen, stood with her long auburn hair unbound at her mother’s side. The next portrait was of this girl, a little older, a little more experienced, standing facing a young man with flame red hair, his face unlined and smiling.
“That was my sister. She died in Howe’s attack. Emma. She and Ser Gilmore died in the main hall, trying to give my mother and father time to escape. They’d been in love. It irritated father no end, since he was a commoner, but mother was happy with the idea. All she wanted was grandchildren.” Fergus let out all the information in a rush, as if he’d been saving this story for someone to tell it to.
“I killed him. Or rather, we killed him. Alistair, Zevran, Wynne and I. I don’t know which of us landed the killing blow, but he died cursing and gasping. Vitriolic to the end. He was a snake. And his family is no more, Fergus. When Alistair found out what he’d done, he wanted to dig him up and kill him all over again,” Moira said quietly.
Fergus let out a loud breath, “I’m glad to hear that. Wish I could have been the one to kill him, however.”
Thinking of Uldred and Loghain, Moira shook her head, “Revenge is never the answer you think it is. “
Fergus shrugged, “Still would have made me feel good. My mother and sister, my wife, Howe’s men made them suffer.”
“I know.” She decided not to tell him how much worse it would have been. The Blight unchecked, the women taken below ground. “But the hangover from revenge is a ****.”
He laughed, “I did find you for a reason. I think I’ve found a ship. The Siren’s Call. I’ll tell you about it on the way to dinner.”
Moira felt the blush start at her feet and hit the top of her head in 2.3 microseconds. She looked away and cleared her throat. “Captain by the name of Isabella?”
Fergus laughed and slapped Moira on the back, heartily. “Oh, ho! You’re acquainted with the good captain, I see! You saucy minx!”
“Uh, she taught me a few things a while back.” Taught Alistair a few things, too, she thought to herself. If it were possible, she felt the blush deepen.
Fergus roared with laughter, “She said she’d leaving in two days, with or without you.”
“I suppose I should go let her know we’ll be joining her then,” Moira replied, her voice resigned. Meeting Isabella again was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least.
She and Fergus began walking down the hall together, Fergus laughed. “When she heard it was a Grey Warden from Ferelden she’d be transporting, she left her ship to come meet you. I didn’t tell her which of you it was, though.” He laughed as she blushed again.
The two of them entered the dining room where Zevran, Cullen and Teagan stood at Moira’s entry. She’d been unable to find any of them today, not that she’d looked very hard. But Zevran at least, had always been there, it was puzzling that he’d been avoiding her. There was a fourth person there, Moira turned red for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes upon seeing Isabella rise at her entrance, too. The roguish pirate captain was standing next to Zevran and both of their eyes started at her head and traveled down then back up, wearing identical possessive grins. Cullen merely looked thunderstuck as if he had nothing left to think with and Teagan just grinned, widely. Moira froze in embarrassment, wondering if she could yank the tablecloth off the table and cover herself with it.
Isabella sauntered over and Fergus went to take his place at the head of the table, leaving her alone with the pirate captain. The auburn haired woman grinned at Moira’s expression, “It’s so good to see you again, my dear.” And before Moira could move, the captain’s hands stuck out and cupped her chin. Moira found herself being thoroughly kissed hello. In spite of herself, she kissed back, the woman was just that good of a kisser. However, when Isabella’s tongue touched her lips, Moira jerked away. “Pity,” Isabella said, running a finger across Moira’s décolletage, causing her to shiver. Grinning, she turned and put her arm around the smaller elven woman and led her to the empty spot at Fergus’ right hand, directly across from Teagan and next to Zevran. Isabella sat at the foot of the table.
She glared at Zevran out of the corner of her eye, he grinned impishly but under the table took her hand and squeezed it. Cullen glared at her from his place next to Teagan as if she was the one who’d done something wrong. Teagan was carefully spreading butter on a roll and not looking at her. Fergus was grinning as if he’d just seen the funniest thing ever. She wondered if Isabella would have done the same thing if Alistair were here and decided they’d have both probably gotten the same greeting. The pirate captain slouched in her chair, a tankard of ale in her hand. “I come ashore to find a passenger or a party and end up with both! I love my life! Thank you for your hospitality, Teryn Fergus.”
Fergus laughed, “I had no idea you knew the Chancellor that well, Isabella. I’d have introduced you sooner!”
Moira resisted the urge to unleash a blizzard on the room and escape. Ale. Ale would help. Flashes of how she’d learned the finer arts of Dueling so she could show Zevran and Lelianna intruded as she swallowed her ale, quickly. It had been a one-time thing, and she was never supposed to run into Isabella again. Isabella’s hand ran up Moira’s inner thigh while Alistair kissed Moira. She met Isabella’s gaze and the pirate’s sun-and-wind-weathered eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. Oh, Maker give her strength to get through this meal. She. Would. Not. Run. She clutched Zevran’s hand harder. The assassin came to her rescue, “So, Isabella, what brings you to Highever?”
“I’d heard about this week-long party the Teryn was throwing. You know me, Zev, I can’t turn away the chance to carouse a little!” Isabella took a drink of her ale. “I just got lucky two old friends happened to be in town looking for a ride.” Moira and Teagan both choked on their ale, Zevran and Fergus both laughed loudly. Cullen stared at his plate, studiously stirring his soup.
Isabella finally noticed the ex-Templar, “Introduce me, Zev, Moira?”
Zevran grinned, Moira hadn’t yet recovered her voice. “That is Master Cullen of Lake Calenhad, Grey Warden recruit.” Moira didn’t know where Cullen had gotten the clothes, but the blue shirt and light grey vest went well with his dark blond curls. It seemed to make his shoulders broader, too.
“Let me guess, another ex-Templar?” Isabella was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
Zevran chuckled, “That he was, yes. Late of the Circle Tower.”
Isabella’s smile became absolutely predatory. Cullen flushed, starting at the base of his neck, “I see you haven’t taught this one anything yet, Sweetness,” she said to Moira. “Your other one came to me mostly trained.” Fergus and Zevran roared with laughter.
Moira grinned, in spite of herself. “Well, I’ve decided to limit myself to just the one ex-Templar, Isabella. It’s so tiring breaking in new ones.” Moira winked at Cullen, the more embarrassed he acted, the worse Isabella would get. The other three men laughed at that verbal riposte.
“Ah, but once they are trained, they never forget, do they.” Isabella grinned at Moira.
Isabella’s tongue in her mouth, Alistair’s hands roaming over her body… Moira shivered slightly but grinned back, “They do tend to stay trained if trained properly, that is true.” Isabella laughed, raising her tankard in acknowledgement of Moira’s point.
“To Remembrance Day,” Isabella called out, raising her tankard in a toast.
The rest of the meal passed companionably, once Moira’s composure returned. She kept catching the occasional speculative gaze from Fergus and Teagan, however, and Cullen couldn’t look at her without glaring at her. Under the table, Zevran kept his hand on her knee.
#145
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 02:25
ReubenLiew
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- Members
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It's not THAAAT nsfw...
Alls the more the shame...
Love it! Isabella! Oh if only I didn't immediately just click the most convenient dialogue options...
Alls the more the shame...
Love it! Isabella! Oh if only I didn't immediately just click the most convenient dialogue options...
#147
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 03:07
Sisimka
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- 935 messages
Love it, plenty blush-worthy for me!
#148
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 03:48
higg1077
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- 38 messages
Your story just keeps getting better and better I can't wait for more as it is I check back several times a day to see if you have added more.
#149
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 04:10
Sialater
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- 12 600 messages
Well, Higg, just to save you some time: I only add the new parts on weekday mornings. I have two Beta Readers and a Proofreader who vet each part before I post. I also reread and proofread several times, myself. I've begun to treat this as professionally as I would something I'd send to a publisher. I figure it's good practice.
That being said, all mistakes are my own.
I'm glad y'all are enjoying this!
That being said, all mistakes are my own.
I'm glad y'all are enjoying this!
Modifié par Sialater, 28 janvier 2010 - 04:12 .
#150
Posté 28 janvier 2010 - 06:43
Tasmen
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- 1 793 messages
I would say that is quite safe for work 
