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[The Gay Warden]

Exactumundo. We must abide for Awakening.

[AdorableAnarchist]

Ooo, I like this tons!!! Good luck with Lelianna... Man, she's my least favorite character... Ugh.

[Sisimka]

Questions
 
A steady stream of visitors occupied every waking moment of the next day. Aedan was exhausted. Finally only Wynne and Leliana remained. Wynne had just finishing ushering an exuberant Oghren and chastened Alistair from the room, along with the bottle they’d carried upstairs with them. She paused in front of the couch where Aedan reclined and he looked up at her, a tired smile at the corners of his mouth. “You look as tired as I feel.”

She chuckled, “Not the most flattering line I’ve heard, young man.”

Aedan flushed, his smile immediately replaced by a more contrite expression. He cleared his throat, “I…didn’t mean to say…”

Wynne leaned forward and patted his hand, “Now, now, I know what you meant. I am weary, Aedan, but you’ll not see the last of me quite yet.”

Aedan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, he could never quite get over the candour with which Wynne regarded her own mortality. He stumbled over his words again, “I…Wynne, you shame me.”

“Which was not my purpose, dear boy, but I intend to take your unspoken advice and seek my own rooms. If I can remember where they are,” she smiled again at her own weak joke.

Wynne glanced toward the window where Leliana stood. Aedan followed her gaze. Leliana had been uncharacteristically quiet most of the evening and was now leaning against the sill of the window, staring out at the moon. 

He looked up again at Wynne’s voice, noticing the old mage had moved to the door. “Goodnight you two,” she said quietly, with a small wave as she stepped through, closing the door gently behind her.

Stifling a yawn, Aedan let his head flop against the high back of the couch a moment, closing his eyes. He was tired, but only that, simply tired.  He no longer felt drained and weak, or disoriented. He felt surprisingly normal. He shook his head gently, what was normal anymore?Opening his eyes he patted the cushion beside him and called to Leliana, “My love, what’s on your mind?”

She glanced over at him, the soft moon light shining across her pale face, illuminating her bright eyes. Her face was sad, thoughtful. She stepped toward the couch, but dropped into the chair facing him instead, and drew her knees up under her chin, wrapping her arms about her legs. She looked at him a long moment before clearing her throat quietly to speak.

“You have had many visitors this day.”

“That I have, though none whose company I enjoy as much as yours,” he said with a quick smile. He could feel her tension and though he didn’t know what she was thinking, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He attempted to distract her, “would you stay the night with me tonight?” Suddenly feeling shy, he added, unnecessarily, “You could sleep here.” 

Besides the close embrace they had shared last night when he’d finally awakened and a few chaste kisses, Leliana had been oddly distant, and he was beginning to suspect her mood had little to do with his injuries. He yearned to hold her again, to feel her soft skin against his own.

Leliana smiled briefly, then her eyes clouded and Aedan felt cold. He felt a creeping over his scalp and knew that what they talked about next would change everything between them. Why now? What was she trying to tell him? He felt sadness well up within him and he looked down at his hands. His skin was all but healed now, still slightly sensitive and he’d have to earn back a few of his callouses, but he was otherwise whole. Who did he have to thank for that; the healers, or Morrigan?

As if she had sensed his thoughts, Leliana said, “You have not asked after Morrigan.”

The creeping sensation traveled down his spine, raising goose bumps along his arms and Aedan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping aloud. Before he could speak, Leliana continued.

“She was never found, you know, after the battle. No body, and no one saw her leave. Surely you did not care so little for her that you are not curious as to her fate?”

Aedan glanced up from the intense study of his fingers, curious to see Leliana’s expression. She sounded angry, why was she so angry? He knew that though little affection had existed between the two women, they’d developed a grudging respect for one another. Did Leliana suspect…? He’d told no one of the ritual, not even a hint! It had been so hard not to tell Alistair, but deep down he’d been sure the honourable man would disapprove. Even though he’d done it to save the king’s life, Maker, to save both their lives it if came to that, he still didn’t think Alistair could have lived with the knowledge that Morrigan was carrying a child with the soul of an old god. 

Not for the first time, Aedan entertained his doubts. A child, his child. He’d questioned Morrigan endlessly about the child until she’d held up her hands, putting him off with a firm, “Enough!” He’d felt it then and it gripped him again now, the odd longing for this unknown child, his first born, that he’d likely never meet. He felt weak and despised the feeling. Had he compromised his values again, for the sake of his life? What was his life worth? Was even Alistair’s life worth this? Yes! It had to be…they hadn’t fought this long, this hard, traveling the length and breadth of Ferelden to build an army simply to sacrifice their king, the last of the Thierin blood line to an arch demon! He’d made his choice and now he had to live with it.

Leliana was studying him and though her expression had softened somewhat, her eyes held him still and he knew there was no evading her questions. He shivered and she hopped up from her chair, immediately concerned and grabbed a throw from the back of the couch. Settling it about his shoulders, she sat next to him and asked, “You are so pale and cold, Aedan, do you not feel well?”

He felt a rush of relief at her concern and thought perhaps she could be put off after all. Then he shook his head, to her and at himself. No, he needed to deal with this now or it would haunt him, haunt them. If he lost Leliana now, would it hurt any more or any less than if he lost her later? This he could not fathom and memories of her flooded his mind, taking his breath away as he realized the intensity of his feelings for this woman. He felt the insane urge to grab at his head, his thoughts were sliding again and he could feel his panic building as his feelings for Leliana mingled with his fear as he remembered the dreams prior to his awakening. What could he possibly tell her that she would understand?

“She is gone,” he suddenly blurted out, surprising himself as much as Leliana. He turned to look at her and saw the worry in her face, but also the question.

“Gone? Where, how do you know this?”

Aedan drew in a breath and composed himself. He thought a moment, then choosing his words carefully, continued, “We talked, at Redcliffe Castle, the night before we marched to battle.” He hesitated here, taking the time to say just enough without revealing the whole awful truth.

“She had a plan…” here he paused and shook himself mentally. He couldn’t tell her! He felt simultaneous relief and dread as he realized how close he had come to revealing Grey Warden secrets. He’d found the ‘loop in his hole’ as Morrigan had so eloquently put it. He couldn’t tell Leliana about the ritual without revealing what happened to a Grey Warden who delivered the final blow to an arch demon. Thinking quickly, he started again.

“She had plans for after the battle, she had Flemeth’s real grimoire and she planned to study it.” His words came faster now and though he despised himself for lying, he couldn’t stop. “I think she was afraid any goodwill extended her, as a maleficar, would evaporate once order was restored to Ferelden.”

Leliana nodded, slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Yes, I can see that. I understand. I am hurt she did not consider me enough of a friend to say goodbye.” She paused here and looked Aedan directly in the eyes, “Obviously she felt differently toward you.”

Aedan couldn’t help it, he blushed, stammered and then could think of no suitable response. Leliana was smiling at him then, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, then drew back and said, “Ah, a little colour becomes you, my Warden.”

Modifié par Sisimka, 25 janvier 2010 - 04:30 .

[Freckles04]

Oh, Aedan. You KNOW Leliana's going to find out...somehow. And although Alistair has a talent to shrug and look stupid, he isn't. He's going to know something's up, too. Confess now! It will go much easier!

LOL. Good job. I'm eager for more!

[Sisimka]

I was pretty sure he was going to up and confess, he's not naturally a coward. I'm going to put it down to tiredness on his part right now. But the Orlesian Wardens will be arriving soon and they will not be so easily put off...

Modifié par Sisimka, 25 janvier 2010 - 05:30 .

[AdorableAnarchist]

Ooo, nobody expects the Orlesian Inquisition!



I'm really liking this... Can't wait to see what happens!

[Freckles04]

AdorableAnarchist wrote...

Ooo, nobody expects the Orlesian Inquisition!

You win an internet!

::three cheers::

[bl00dsh0t]

Very interesting fic, looking forward to more

[AdorableAnarchist]

Freckles04 wrote...

AdorableAnarchist wrote...

Ooo, nobody expects the Orlesian Inquisition!

You win an internet!

::three cheers::

YAY ME!

[Sisimka]

Here is today's chapter. A little less emotion and intrigue, a bit more fun, I hope! Enjoy...



__________________________________________________________________________________

Restoring Order



The city of Denerim appeared all but destroyed by the final battle, but once workers began clearing away the rubble, it was discovered that the vast majority of her buildings still stood, requiring new doors and windows, some structural repairs and in dire cases a new roof. The worst damage had occurred in the market place and the alienage, where the arch demon’s generals had marshaled their forces. The bridge between these two districts had been destroyed by the arch demon itself and had to be completely torn down and rebuilt. Many of the mustered army remained in Denerim, pitching in where they could as debris was cleared and homes declared safe once more. Outside the city gates the vast encampments slowly shrank as accommodations were restored within. Despite the losses and the wreckage, it was an optimistic time, folk of all races working together once more to restore order.

Alistair toured the city as often as he could, always accompanied by two or more of his companions. Oghren and Zevran were his most constant companions, and they were often joined by the golem Shale who was popular among the workers as she lent strength to their efforts, or by the stoic Sten, whose very presence provided enough security that Alistair’s guards quickly overcame their superstitions and began actively campaigning for the Qunari to be permanently installed.

The Landsmeet clamoured for the king’s attention and Alistair grudgingly spent the rest of his time closeted with the Arls and Teryns planning and learning the art of governance.

It was nearly a week before Aedan could convince his attendant mages, Taren and Wynne that he was able to leave his rooms unaccompanied. Wynne had scolded him fiercely when she found him missing the morning of his third day of recovery. She had tracked him to the courtyard where he was sparring lightly with Zevran. Her raised voice turned every head, including Aedan’s causing him to miss a parry, the elf’s blade landing with a smart slap against his wrist. Wynne’s face turned an interesting colour and Aedan felt like a young boy again as he meekly allowed her to check his small collection of bruises and listened to her rant. Unable to convince her of his health and returned vigor, he agreed to let Taren follow him around. The young mage was a quiet man, more suited to the palace library than the armory and Aedan chafed at being so coddled.

Leliana teased him mercilessly by day, enjoying the return of the young man she had fallen for and he was gratified to see the shadows start to fade from her eyes. At night she was warm and attentive, if somewhat reserved. Though he knew her questions had only been put aside for now, he made the most of her good humour and involved her in his many schemes to slip the noose, knowing she had more tricks to evade the mages than he could ever hope to learn. He envied Leliana and Zevran’s ability to melt into shadows and move soundlessly.

On the fifth day, it became obvious that Wynne and Taren were more in need of rest than Aedan and Alistair was called in to mediate the final argument. Alistair rebuked them all for wasting his time and beckoned Aedan to follow him outside.

“If you’re well enough to rile up the mages, you’re well enough to accompany me today,” he said. Aedan sighed with ill-concealed relief and Alistair laughed aloud. “You will have to apologise to them, you know, irate mages are not useful mages.”

Aedan nodded his acquiescence and asked his king, “So where do we go today?”

Oghren and Sten awaited the pair at the foot of the palace steps. Aedan brightened at the sight of the Qunari and joyously greeted him, “Sten!” Sten had visited briefly that first day, but he’d not see the big man since.

Sten nodded his head, replying in his deep voice, “Kadan.”

Aedan clapped Oghren’s shoulder then just stood still and savoured his freedom. He felt like hopping up and down he had so much energy. The other three companions laughed at his attitude and commented amongst one another about how a good days’ work would soon dampen his enthusiasm. The four men set off.

They were heading toward the warehouse district and as they left the shadow of the palace an honour guard fell in behind them at a not so discreet distance. Though all the companions were armed, tales of opportunists and thugs were coming from back alleys and side streets behind The Pearl with increased frequency, hence the extra guard. Alistair explained his plans to Aedan as they walked, he hoped that by being accessible and visible to the people of Denerim he could inspire confidence in his rule as well as being seen to oversee the rebuilding of his capital. Aedan smiled, it was so like Alistair to want to be among all these people.

Aedan asked the king, “Speaking of ruling, has a date been set for your coronation?”

Alistair growled and said, “Not you too!”

Aedan was taken aback, “Me too what?”

Alistair grumbled an apology as Oghren explained, “The Chantry has been after him for days, all but chasing him down the streets crown in hand, waitin’ for him to fall so they can land it on his head.”

Aedan laughed at the mental image, then put a hand on Alistair’s arm, stopping the man and turning him slightly. The companions stopped and Aedan looked at Alistair’s face carefully, gauging his mood before saying, “Should we let Anora out of the tower and have her race you to the throne?”

Alistair tried to scowl, but laughed instead, clapping Aedan on the back, his usual good humour restored. “It’s good to have you back, Aedan. I’ve missed your…unique perspective.” Alistair paused and with a heavy sigh, answered the original question. “Soon, Aedan, perhaps sooner than I’d like, but I needed to make the effort to see Denerim restored first. I will not be crowned while the city is still so marked by the passage of the blight.”

The men had not noticed the crowd that had started to gather about them until one of the guards called nervously, “Alright folks, stand back, you can pay your respects to His Majesty from that distance right there.” Then louder, “Order please!”

Aedan looked up and a silence swept the crowd. Every face was turned upon him and he had a moment to wonder why they were looking at him, not Alistiar, before the first voice called out, “It’s him, the Grey Warden.” Another followed with, “It’s the Hero of Ferelden!” and “He lives!”

The crowd surged forward as people started to reach for him, their hands outstretched. A small boy slipped between the nearest guard’s legs and stood before Aedan, a look of awe on his upturned face. Aedan smiled down at the boy and the boy reached forward, wrapping his skinny arms around his armoured knees. The guard reached down to pry the boy from Aedan’s legs and the gap he left was quickly overrun with people who reached in to touch Aedan from all directions. The hands were reverent at first, but as more people pushed forward the companions and the guards were torn between protecting the king and keeping Aedan on his feet as folk shoved and crawled forward.

Just as Aedan began to panic, fearing for his safety and Alistair’s, a clang of steel followed by a mighty roar rang above the massed people. Silence befell the crowd, most of which began to step back nervously allowing the guards to reinforce their position. At the centre of the group, Sten stood tall and mighty, his huge sword raised above his head. He turned, his purple eyes glowing, and stared out over the heads of the crowd. The spell was broken and the guards quickly restored order, working simultaneously to disperse the people and move the companions forward out of the square.

Alistair turned to Aedan and commented dryly, “Perhaps we should make you king, the crowd loves you.”

Aedan laughed, partly from relief, and replied, “Oh no, you aren’t wriggling out of it that easily.”

The companions enjoyed the rest of the afternoon, even stopping to lend a hand on several occasions when extra muscle was required. Aedan endured several more worshipful gazes and whispered, ‘Hero of Fereldens’ before he was able to tune out the adulation and speculation and focus on the tasks at hand. He found the whole situation uncomfortable and finally began to understand some of Alistair’s reluctance to take the throne.

They returned to the palace, weary but in fine spirits and joined the rest of the companions for a hearty dinner. There was a festive mood in the air, this being the first time they had all dined together since camp the night before that final battle. Oghren immediately produced a cask of ale from Maker only knows where, and handing them all full mugs raised his in a toast.

“The Blighters!” he said, and they all raised their mugs.

Zevran, having heard of the afternoon’s outing, raised his mug again, “The Hero of Ferelden!” he called to a round of laughs, shouts and groans. They all drank again.

Aedan raised his mug next and looked directly at Alistair. He waited for the companions to quiet before he said, “To the King of Ferelden.” He and Alistair exchanged a long and thoughtful look as the rest of the companions made appreciative noises, raising their mugs and drinking again, before nodding to one another and drinking to Aedan’s toast.

Aedan set his mug down and leaned back in his chair, slipping his arm about Leliana’s shoulders as he hooked an ankle about her chair leg and scooted her closer to him. He had just leaned in to press a kiss to her temple when Oghren called out, “What’s the matter boy? Ale got the best of yeh already?”

The companions laughed together and Aedan was encouraged, with only the most mildly disapproving glance from Wynne to collect his mug and raise it again.

Oghren glanced slyly at Leliana and said, “So did the boy ever tell you about the night we got kicked out of Tapsters?”

Wynne coughed and sat back to swallow before asking, her voice incredulous, “How on earth did you achieve that in a dwarven establishment?”

Alistair groaned and buried his head in his arms, Zevran laughed in his unique and mischievous manner and Aedan discovered his horror that his cheeks were flushed, again. Must be the ale, he thought. Only Sten remained stoic, though his eyes might have betrayed a hint of amusement.

Oghren, having gained his audience, launched into his tale.

“So, Alistair here was telling our Aedan about the joys of being a Grey Warden, other than cleavin’ darkspawn in two, that is. He talked up a warden from the Anderfels, Gregor, or some such?” He looked at Alistair, who raised his head, grinning now.

The king picked up the tale, “Right, Gregor, his name was and he had challenged us all to a drinking game – him drinking a full pint for our every half.”

Wynne was shaking her head now and Aedan and Leliana were laughing as they’d both heard this particular story before. Aedan watched Alistair closely and was proud of how the man handled himself when he got to the part about Duncan finding all the wardens, except Gregor, passed out on the floor. Alistair kept it together, stopping only to smile fondly in memory of Duncan and the wardens, before gesturing to Oghren to continue with his own tale.

“So Aedan here, skinny runt he is, decides to challenge us all to a game of chance, the loser having to drink a pint of the best dwarven ale each round.”

It was Aedan’s turn to groan and he ducked his head to Leliana’s shoulder. She grinned and gently shrugged him off, saying to Oghren, “Yes, and then?”

Zevran leaned forward then and exchanging a glance and nod with the dwarf, continued the story. “I had told Aedan of a game we Crows had played in Antiva. It is simple to play as the only things required are a single dagger and plenty of ale! So Aedan draws his dagger and puts it on the table with a rather loud clatter,” the elf paused here to shake his head at Aedan, “you do not have our way with the dagger my friend.” Zevran winked at Leliana, who smiled.

“Nothing but an innocent round of ‘spin the dagger’” Alistair put in, looking at Aedan and laughing, “We’re all lucky our fearless warrior here is better at actually using his dagger than spinning it!”

Even Wynne was laughing now as the possibilities for mischief began to occur. She looked from one companion to the next, looking relaxed once again in the light-hearted atmosphere.

Oghren set his mug down with a thump and continued the story. “After losin’ too many rounds, Aedan gives the dagger a last almighty spin. The dagger flies off the sodding table landin’ upright in the bar, right between the barkeep’s fingers and Aedan flies back off his chair, his head fallin’ in the lap of the lass at the table behind him, taking her to the floor as well.”

Aedan buried his burning cheeks in his hands and rocked back on his chair, nearly losing his balance again as he laughed. Oghren had lost control of his faculties, leaning back in his own chair, clapping his hands to his belly in an all out laugh. He dropped forward again, taking up his mug and finished the tale.

The ‘lass’ had been a noble’s daughter visiting with her father at the tavern. The Lord had stood up, outraged, and his guards had swept Aedan off the dwarven lady and outside the tavern before his companions had even recovered their sensibilities – all of them having had one too many rounds of ale at this stage. “Well, except for perhaps Sten. That Qunari is damned unreadable,” Oghren glanced at Sten with respect. Sten nodded back, his eyes glowing that curious violet in the lamplight. The big man was smiling, ever so slightly.

Aedan been deposited in an unceremonious heap out the side door, where vertigo finally caught up with him. The companions found him on his hands and knees, heaving his guts up into the gutter – which at the time had been cause for more hilarity and amusement as the very sight and smell had turned Alistair green, causing the king to grab his own abdomen and clutch at his mouth in a vain attempt to ward off the same fate. Oghren, Sten and Zevran had discovered a shared camaraderie as they shook their heads sadly at one another, Oghren supplying the word, “Humans.”

After while the companions began to sober, and one by one tendered their good nights until only Alistair and Aedan were left sitting at the table. Alistair glanced at Aedan, lifting his mug as if to ask if Aedan needed a refill. Aedan shook his head vehemently, “Nooooo, I think Wynne might slay me all over again if I fall off my chair and hit my head tonight.”

Alistair chuckled, putting his own mug aside as well. He turned back to look at Aedan then, with a calculating expression and Aedan returned his gaze, eye to eye. They sat like that a moment before Aedan broke the silence, speaking quietly to his king, “Whatever it is you’re going to tell me, I’m not going to like it, am I?”

[Freckles04]

No! Don't stop there! More, please. What is Alistair going to reveal....?

[MarcusDeVarro]

gah! must...stop...reading...must...get...ready...for...class...can't...stop...reading...usless...to...resist

[bl00dsh0t]

Moar, mooaaarrrrr

[Sisimka]

I'm sorry, I had to stop there as I was already an hour late leaving the house today. Tsk, tsk. I'll try and pick it up again this afternoon...but I just picked up ME2...so torn.

[AdorableAnarchist]

LOL ME2 is going to be evil for a lot of us. Can't wait, though!

[Sisimka]

Okay, I finished the chapter, here is part 2. I tore myself away from ME2 to finish this, I hope it measures up! Thanks for all the kind comments and encouragement!

__________________________________________________________________________________
Restoring Order (part 2)

“That depends,” said Alistair, “on your taste in clothing.”

Aedan’s eyebrows shot up and he stifled a laugh, “This is one of those jokes of yours I’m not going to get, right?”

Alistair joined his laugh with a chuckle and leaned against the back of his chair, folding his arms in front of him.

“As you know I’ve been spending quite a bit of time cloistered with Arl Eammon and the rest of the Arls and Teryns and Banns and perhaps all their personal cooks, for all I would know, making plans,” Alistair paused, cocking one eyebrow in a silly expression before shaking his head and continuing, “Why anyone would actually want this job, I don’t know.” He sighed. “They are, of course, pushing for the coronation and soon. I actually agree with them, now that the rebuilding of Denerim is underway, and I will delay no longer.”

Aedan nodded carefully, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well…after the Landsmeet I named you Commander of my Armies, correct?”

Again, Aedan nodded, carefully.

“I want to appoint you as my Chancellor.”

Aedan’s mouth dropped open, “What!?” He quickly envisioned the life of court attendance, endless meetings in closed stuffy rooms, shirts with buttons and collars! He’d never see day light, he wouldn’t be holding a sword in defence of his country, his king. He pictured himself stuck at a desk with ink stained fingers. Shaking himself, he slapped his hands down upon the table top and uttered the first word that came to mind, “No!”

Alistair, taken aback by Aedan’s outburst, looked surprised, then hurt, “Does your word mean so little? We talked of your plans after the Landsmeet, you said you would remain at my side.” The king’s voice was raised and Aedan felt the man’s anger.

Aedan shot back, “As Commander of your Armies, yes, not some court adviser!”

“The position of Chancellor is not just some court adviser!” Alistair responded.

“I don’t want to be Chancellor!” Aedan yelled.

“I didn’t want to be King!” Alistair all but roared.

Aedan rocked back in his chair at this, his anger evaporating as suddenly as it had built. His face burned with shame and he dropped his head, sighing heavily. He rubbed his eyes, then pressed his hands to his forehead, afraid to look up. He suddenly felt like a boy again and a small part of him hoped that if he hid his face like this, kept quiet long enough, Alistair might just get up and walk away in disgust.

Taking a deep breath he looked up, Alistair was looking at him and the expression on the man’s face made Aedan cringe. For a moment he barely recognised the young warden he’d had met in Ostagar just over a year ago. The easy going, wise-cracking youth had been replaced with a man whose face was currently set like stone, eyes glinting in anger, frustration and regret.

“Alistair…I’m sorry.” Aedan said quietly. He shook his head, spread his hands on the table top and said, “I don’t know what else to say, I…was totally out of order, after all you’ve done, for us, for me.” He stopped, full of self-loathing then. He could not believe he had yelled at the king like that, at the King! Alistair was so silent, why didn’t he speak? Aedan felt hollow, and as the last of his anger drained away, it left him feeling incredibly weary.

Alistair finally moved then, bracing his hands on the table top he scraped his chair back and stood up, stepping away from the table and pacing to the windows along one wall of the room. Aedan got to his feet and turned to face the windows. He didn’t want Alistair to walk away, he wanted to fix this now before either of them left this room.

He tried again, “Alistair, please talk to me, tell me why…” he paused, trying for the right words, the right tone.

“I’m just a warrior…I kill things.” Here he had to pause again as the word ‘kill’ caught in his throat. He didn’t used to ‘kill’ things. That same year ago the biggest thing he’d ‘killed’ was a practice dummy. Now he’d killed things he’d never even known existed, darkspawn, werewolves and tainted animals. He’d killed dwarves, elves and men. He’d never forget the first man he’d killed, a bandit on the road outside Lothering. He’d tried to intimidate, then to merely injure, but the bandit would not back down and he’d been forced to kill or be killed. From there it had been one after another, cultists, bandits, blood mages, all men and women. Then he’d killed Lord Howe, and finally Teryn Loghain. His ears were ringing faintly and he was starting to feel sick.

He barely heard Alistair’s voice.  “Hasn’t there been enough killing?” Alistair turned to face him and Aedan saw it in his face too, the memories, those same battles, those same deaths. He continued, “We’re so young, and yet we’ve seen more bloodshed and mayhem than most see in an entire lifetime.”

Aedan merely nodded.

Alistair sighed and continued, “Aedan, to tell you the truth, I know you don't want…”

“Then why?” Aedan asked again.

Alistair looked him in the eye, “Because I need you there, at my back. I need someone I can trust without reservation. I need my Brother, my fellow Grey Warden, the only man who truly knows me here. I’m drowning in a sea of old men. They all mean well, but it’s obvious they all think I’m an idiot and have no idea how to rule.”

“You are not an idiot.”

Alistair immediately countered with, “And neither are you. You’re probably more educated than I am. You know these men, and they know you. You’re a noble, by the Maker, you speak their language.”

Aedan nodded, grudgingly accepting this as fact. Though he’d been the youngest son, and again he felt the pang of loss the deaths of his family would cause every time he thought about them, he’d had the same education as Fergus.

“I accept.” He nearly whispered.

He looked up at Alistair and the king nodded, briefly, and turned away from him. Alistair started to walk away, took a few steps, then turned around. “The ‘official’ appointment will be made following the coronation, but Arl Eammon would have you meet with us tomorrow.” He turned again and walked toward the door.

Aedan called to him again, “Alistair…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, I have no excuse to give you.”

Alistair looked back once more, “Neither do I.” He sighed, turned to face Aedan across the empty room. “We’re both tired, it’s been a really long day.” He looked at his hands and up again, “I could have handled this better. We’ll talk in the morning?” He offered a weary half smile and it was nearly the saddest expression Aedan could remember seeing on the king’s face. He nodded. Alistair turned and left the room.

Modifié par Sisimka, 26 janvier 2010 - 11:03 .

[bl00dsh0t]

Great chap again, moar moar moar xD And thank you for dropping ME2 for this, much appreciated

[Sisimka]

Thanks bloodshot! There is a lot more drama going on here than I expected, so the chapter got a bit long. Now I'm really torn, play DAO, ME2 or write more. There's also a stack of DVDs from Netflix I haven't even opened yet...

[Freckles04]

I just picked up my copy of ME2, so I'm sure I'm about to feel the same indecision as you, Sisi...! Nicely written ending to that chapter. I liked the tension between Alistair and Aedan, and its resolution. But I'm anxiously awaiting fallout from the Morrigan issue...!

[Sisimka]

Thanks Freckles! I'll be writing up the Coronation itself tomorrow and hopefully for all involved it will go off without a hitch, I'm all drama'd out right now. But I plan to introduce the Orlesian Wardens at the end of the Coronation and they will be asking questions...

[Drax_Lyonsbane]

Well written Sisimka

I am looking forward to the next chapter.



Oh tell the Orlesian Wardens they are a bunch of sodding dusters and to sod off...or something.

[Kulkodar]

So many talented authors here. This is a lovely story. Keep up, when you can. I'll be checking back for more

[Sisimka]

The Coronation

(For the actual coronation I will be using a lot of Alistair’s speech directly from the game. There is no need to improve upon perfection! I found his words to be both profound and an accurate representation of his character. I have added only some texture to the scene and then expanded upon the celebration afterwards.)



Aedan dreamed:

He was walking through flying snow and the wind was whipping his cloak about his legs in the most annoying fashion. As if the snow were not hard enough to get through, the damp wool threatened to trip his every step. He looked up and saw the vague outlines of a building ahead. He trudged on until the building resolved itself into a hut, beyond which he could just make out several rooflines, a village.

He edged around the hut, out of the wind and leaned against the wall a minute, catching his breath. The wall was cold and still and he sensed even before investigating that the hut was deserted. Despite the snow, it was too quiet here, too still. However, the hut offered shelter and he continued around the next corner until he found the door.

The hut was indeed abandoned and not the cleanest abode he’d visited – but the roof was solid, the door shut after him and there was wood stacked next to the hearth. It wasn’t long before he had the small space warmed enough that he could abandon the wet cloak and boots and settle before the fire, warming his toes and fingers. Such small hands and feet…he stared at them wonderingly, not his hands and feet. He heard a voice, a familiar voice.

“So there you are, sticking your nose in where it does not belong.” Morrigan said. “Why do you persist in following me?” She asked then raised a hand and continued, “No, no, don’t answer me, for I know you cannot.”

Aedan could feel her tiredness and oddly, that same touch of loneliness he’d sensed last time he’d ‘traveled’ with her. He waited for her to push him away and was surprised that she did not. ‘They’ sat still, contemplating the flames silently a few minutes longer, and then Morrigan simply said, “Time for you to go.” And he was gone.

Aedan opened his eyes. He was so warm! He tried to catch the lingering traces of his dream, feeling as if he was forgetting something, but it was gone. The windows were tinged with grey, it was just before dawn. He sighed and turned his head. Leliana was asleep beside him, the source of his warmth no doubt as her arm was flung across his chest, her forehead against his shoulder. It wasn’t often that he woke before her, it was more likely he’d open his eyes to find her watching him. She seemed to enjoy watching him sleep. He smiled, and shifting his shoulders slightly, turned to take her in his arms, pulling her against him. He started dropping soft kisses on her face, moving down over her closed eyes to her lips. He had plans for her and they included a lot more than simply watching her sleep.

It was some time later before Leliana tried coax Aedan from bed. Her expression was wistful, belying the crisp tone of her voice as she said, “Not that I wouldn’t spend all day in bed with my Warden, but today is Alistair’s big day!”

Aedan pulled the sheets over his head with a groan, and Leliana attempted to pull them down again resulting in a quick tug of war, the warrior’s superior strength winning out, Leliana ending up tangled in the sheets and clasped in his arms once more.

“Aha!” he cried, “I have you now!”

Leliana laughed delightedly, wriggling in the sheet, her remaining strength sapped by her mirth. She tried to look stern, but it was very hard to pull off with her hair flying around her head and her arms trapped in twists of bedclothes.

Their play was interrupted by a brisk knock at the door. Aedan growled and gently disengaging himself from Leliana and sheets, grabbed a robe and went to investigate. Their baths had been prepared, it was time to start the day.

+++++

It had been two months since the Final Battle and the slaying of the Arch Demon. The entire city of Denerim turned out to greet its new King as he made a ceremonial tour to the palace, starting at the city gates. The parade moved slowly along clean swept streets, Alistair resplendent in his golden armour at the head, flanked by Aedan in his recognizable Warden Commander Armour at his left and Oghren, head held high and proud, his best Dwarven dragonbone plate polished to a high gloss, at his right. They were followed by the King’s Guard and Zevran and Leliana, the last two companions to remain in the city. Sten had suddenly bid them farewell a month ago, ready to report his answers to the Arishok. Wynne had accompanied Shale on a quest to the Tevinter Magi, seeking magics that might restore the golem to her former self.

The entire collected Ferelden nobility awaited their King at the Landsmeet chamber, the vast hall fully restored and bedecked with ribbons and flowers in honour of the occasion. The procession acquired an air of solemnity as they passed through the wide doors and into the hall. The Kings Guard stopped at the doors, arraying themselves to either side of the entrance chamber. Alistair nodded to their captain and glanced quickly to either side of himself, as if checking Aedan and Oghren were still with him. The Grand Cleric awaited Alistair at the top of the dais and the King paused before the lowest of the six stone steps. Aedan and Oghren stepped back and Alistair mounted the steps alone, stopping to kneel before the Grand Cleric. She gently placed a hand on his head and conferred the blessings of the Maker on Ferelden’s new King. It was done. Alistair stood, bowed his head to the Cleric and turned to face the hall.

The noise was deafening as the gathered crowed cheered and clapped and Alistair allowed himself an awkward smile before schooling his features into a more regal expression. He raised a hand and silence fell.

Alistair said a few words of acceptance, his eyes alighting on near every face in the hall. The man was a natural leader of people and it showed. Aedan was impressed with Alistair’s composure and confidence. This man was a far cry from the young warden he’d encountered riling up mages that day in Ostagar. This man was every inch a king. His thoughts were dragged back to the present as Alistair’s voice changed tone.

“My friends, we are also gathered here to celebrate those responsible for our victory.” Alistair’s gaze touched on Zevran, Leliana and Oghren before finally coming to rest upon Aedan.

“Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation. The one who led the final charge against the arch demon remains with us still, an inspiration to all he saved that day”

Alistair beckoned and Aedan walked forward to the stone steps, mounting them slowly before coming to stand at the king’s side.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the hero of Ferelden, the first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel four centuries ago.”

The crowd erupted in cheers once more and Aedan looked down to the one face whose expression he cared about. Leliana was beaming at him, her eyes bright. He smiled back to her, and only her as the applause slowly subsided.

Alistair spoke again, “My friend, it is hard to imagine how you could have served your country more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favour. Is there any boon that you might request of Ferelden’s king? If it is within my power, I will grant it.”

Aedan had turned to look at his king once more, listening quietly and attentively to Alistair’s words. They had exchanged no more harsh words since that night after dinner when Alistair had announced his plans. In fact beyond Aedan’s contributions to policy and governance and his discussions with Alistair and his former regent, Arl Eammon, they’d not had many chances to just talk. Time had soothed their hurts and they had regained most of their former easy going friendship. Now Aedan felt he finally had a chance to let Alistair know that he was his man, and that his loyalty and friendship were to be counted upon, without question.

He looked at Alistair directly and said without hesitation, his voice loud and clear, “I only wish to continue to serve the crown, Your Majesty.”

He saw the light in Alistair’s eyes and knew with a certainty that his message had been delivered. He nodded, smiled and spoke, “Then I hereby appoint you chancellor, to serve as my advisor in the years to come.”

A murmur of appreciation rippled through the packed hall and Aedan heard Alistair’s voice beneath it, “Maker knows I need it.”

Aedan grinned and accepted Alistair’s outstretched arm, the two men grasped each other about the forearm, their armoured gloves clanking slightly at the gesture.

Aedan stepped aside then, allowing Alistair to continue his speech.

“I have one more appointment and only a few more remarks if your patience will indulge me a little further.” This was met with general amusement and approval and Alistair gestured Oghren to step forward.

“I suddenly find myself without a commander for my armies,” a rueful glance over his shoulder at Aedan, “I’d be honoured, Oghren, if you would accept the position.”

The dwarf was grinning ear to ear and he bounced up the stairs to grasp Alistair’s arm, his head bobbing in a bow of acceptance. All of Denerim knew of Oghren’s leadership at the city gates, how the dwarf had marshaled the forces at his disposal and held the horde back, allowing Ferelden’s allies to find the arch demon’s generals and sweep the city of darkspawn. They accepted the appointment with cheers and appreciation.

The crowd quieted again and Alistair cleared his throat, his expression becoming serious once more, “Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them.”

Alistair bowed his head a moment, the nobility following suit, every heart and mind giving silent thanks to the Wardens who had fallen at Ostagar.

“Finally, I would gift the land south of Ostagar to the clans of the Dalish, who allied themselves with all of Ferelden against the Blight. I hope this is the beginning of a new friendship between our two peoples, a true uniting of all Ferelden.”

This final pronouncement met with mixed, but for the majority, genial reaction from those assembled. It had been a sticking point in Alistair’s negations with the nobility leading up to the coronation and therefore came as no great surprise. The attendant Dalish wore cautiously optimistic expressions, graciously accepting the congratulations and goodwill of those people standing near them.

Then the official business was over and with a wave and final cheer from the crowd, Alistair stepped from the dias, followed by Aedan and Oghren, and went to join Arl Eammon, accepting the man’s hug and congratulations.

The former regent began talking earnestly with Alistair and has the pair moved away, Aedan caught sight of a familiar face. He blinked and gasped, his ears ringing as all colour drained from his face. He did not hear Leliana and Zevran approach from behind, calling to him.

[Freckles04]

Who?? Who did he see? Morrigan? Or was it a trick of the mind...? Aedan, you're going to need to reveal your secret soon...

[Sisimka]

Alright Freckles *evil grin*, I have to admit that last para was for you. I'll make it up to you, I promise!

*gets busy writing the next bit*

Modifié par Sisimka, 27 janvier 2010 - 04:20 .