Repercussions - complete novella (contains spoilers)
Débuté par
Freckles04
, janv. 22 2010 02:13
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#303
Posté 15 février 2010 - 05:14
Freckles04
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I think I'm pretty much the only one who's dreading it, because I have to write the damn thing... 
#304
Posté 15 février 2010 - 05:43
AndrastesKnickers
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Very good, I can't wait either.
#305
Posté 15 février 2010 - 06:35
amethyst_rose2009
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Wow, Freckles, I finally got the chance to read this and it's amazing. I love it! And Alistair finally found out who his mother is. I can't wait to read more! 
#306
Posté 16 février 2010 - 12:10
odiedragon
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Poor Fiona. Alistair's gonna have even MORE guilt-like-woah. Poor guy!
#307
Posté 16 février 2010 - 12:51
Jannamarie
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Ohhhh, poor Alistair you are really torturing him into maturity, and rather nicely too.
#308
Posté 16 février 2010 - 12:56
AdorableAnarchist
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Woot!! I got to read a bunch of updates all at once. This is wonderful! Wants more NAO! Ahem...
I am loving this tons.
I am loving this tons.
#309
Posté 16 février 2010 - 10:44
Freckles04
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Part 24
Alistair looked up at a soft tap on the door. Isabela poked her head into the room, and he was surprised to see the genuine concern wrinkling her forehead. "How is she?" she murmured.
"Resting. Her wound is healed, but the blood magic influence is still there." He looked at the mage sitting on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. Had he made the right choice, trusting Fiona to help? His gaze dropped to the slack hand gripped in his own.
"What's she doing?" Isabela asked with a jerk of her chin in Fiona's direction.
"I don't know." It pained him to admit it. For the first time in his life, he wished he had the talent for magic, so he could be the one to help Bryn through this. Instead, he felt like a little boy pressed against a window pane, dreaming of the toy just on the other side. "It seems to be keeping her calm, though, so I'll take it." He regarded the captain. "Did you need something, Isabela?"
Something flickered in her eyes. "I hate to pull you away, your Majesty--"
His eyes closed briefly and he nodded. "Right. Official business, then." He dipped his lips to Bryn's hand. "I'll be back soon, love," he murmured.
He felt like an old man as he rose and stretched muscles cramped from sitting too long in one position. The adrenaline that had sustained him had long ago fled, leaving him painfully aware of the fatigue rippling through his body. He stifled a yawn as he followed Isabela out of the stateroom and down the corridor to her quarters.
A slight breeze behind him was the only indication that they were no longer alone. Alistair glanced back, unsurprised to see Zev slipping through the door.
A corner of Isabela's generous mouth quirked upward. "Zev. I'm hurt. Don't you trust me?"
"Of course not, dear Isabela." He softened his words with an elegant bow and a genuine smile.
She chuckled. "You were smart to keep this one with you," she said to Alistair.
Maybe if he weren't so tired, he would have rejoined with a witty remark. As it was, all the King said was "I know." He sank into one of the chairs opposite Isabela's ornate wooden desk with a sigh. "How can I help you, Captain?"
"It's not so much how you can help me, your Majesty," Isabela said, retrieving something from her desk. "But how I am going to help you." She tossed an envelope at him.
Alistair caught it without thinking. At Zev's sharply indrawn breath, Isabela frowned. "For Andraste's sake, it's not poisoned, Zevran. Do you think I'd be so foolish?"
"Foolish isn't quite the term, no," Zevran admitted.
Alistair turned the envelope over in his hands. It carried no address, but the seal… "This is Eamon's seal." His brows drew down. "And it's broken. You opened it?"
"I did, as it was intended for me." She lowered herself into the chair behind the desk and crossed her arms. "We'd been about to leave Highever for Marnus Pell, the port town near Weisshaupt, as agreed. You and your companions had already departed on that other ship, bound for the Free Marches. I'd been about to cast off, when a messenger arrived with this envelope, and the instructions not to open it until we reached Marnus Pell."
A shiver of foreboding wound its way through Alistair's limbs. His fingers hesitated on the flap. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"No, love." Isabela sighed. "You're not."
#
Zevran hovered at Alistair's shoulder as the King withdrew the letter from the envelope. He could see a few lines of black script contrasted against the stark whiteness of the paper, but he had no chance to read the message before Alistair crumpled the paper in his palm. Without a word, he tossed the letter on Isabela's desk and stormed out of the room.
The elf retrieved the paper from the desk and smoothed it out. Isabela didn't protest, strangely enough; she sat there, quietly watching. Zev spared her but a glance before turning his attention to the letter.
The seas at this time of year are treacherous, are they not? Teyrn Fergus tells me that his sister is not well-used to travel aboard a ship. I hope that you will take every precaution for her safety, but Ferelden will understand should an accident occur.
Fury swept through Zev, and he spat an Antivan curse. "Don't tell me you didn't read between the lines," he growled at Isabela.
"I'm not stupid, Zev," she said, her eyes narrowed. "I know exactly what that letter was telling me to do. Had it been anyone else, they might have found themselves accidentally cast overboard. But, no. Not her."
"Why not?"
She chuckled. "Truthfully? I'd been planning on it until you all came racing down the pier like a dozen rage demons pursued you. Until Alistair took me aside and asked me if I would marry them once Bryn awoke." She looked away, but not before Zev caught a slight glimmer in her gaze.
"Isabela," he said, startled. "You're a romantic!"
"Hush. I could still have you thrown overboard, and don't think I won't. You just keep your mouth shut about that." She flicked her fingers at him. "Go. Keep your King from doing something stupid."
Acknowledging the wisdom of that statement with a slight incline of his head, Zev tucked the letter into his jerkin and left in pursuit of Alistair. A quick glance in the royal stateroom revealed that he hadn't returned. Most likely on deck then, Zev decided.
He'd thought to find the King raging. Or even staring morosely at the horizon as the sun dipped into the last quarter of the sky. Not sitting in the corner, his back braced against the wall, looking utterly defeated.
For once, the elf held his tongue. Witty remarks would do nothing to help. He sat down beside the King, and waited.
"I shouldn't be surprised. I really shouldn't." Alistair swept a hand over his short, reddish hair.
"Why not?" Zev shrugged. "I am."
"Truly?" The King cast a sideways glance at him. His eyes were dark with weariness. "The great Zevran, caught off-guard by an aging arl?"
"No," Zev said soberly. "The great Zevran, caught off-guard by the man who raised a good friend of mine and helped us when we needed it most."
Alistair closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Sea spray coated his skin, but he didn't seem to care. "I am a tool to him. I saw it, back at Redcliffe, before the Landsmeet. I was the means by which to remove Loghain from power, nothing more. Maybe the means by which he can steer the country, I don’t know. He's only ever really cared about the blood that's in my veins, not the boy that was once in his care or the man I've become. I wonder, does he even see me when he looks at me? Or just the vessel for four hundred years of tradition?"
Zevran stared up at the masts and the sails rippling overhead, for once unsure of the best words for the situation. "Why would he want Bryn--"
"Gone? Simple. I thought you knew, actually. I thought everyone knew." He sighed. "Grey Wardens are all but infertile, because of the taint. One Grey Warden will find it difficult to have children. For two…it's nearly impossible."
"Ah." The elf nodded as many things began to fall into place. The tension between Bryn and Alistair, the discussions with Eamon...
"The line of Calenhad ends with me."
Zev's eyes flicked to Alistair's still form at the pronouncement. The elf wondered if the King heard the sorrow in his own voice, or the disappointment.
"He tried to get Cailan to put Anora aside just for that reason, you know. And he’s never supported my marriage to Bryn because of it." Alistair opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to look at the expanse of moist planks in front of them. "I suppose the idea of Maric's line ending here--again--was too much for him."
Zev's mouth twisted as he hesitated to share his revelation. "He is probably responsible for the assassination attempt at the Chantry, Alistair."
The King groaned. "Maker. Are you sure? No, of course you’re right. What are the chances of multiple factions scheming to kill my wife, right?"
“Given her reputation and prowess in battle, not to mention the love and admiration she inspires everywhere she goes,” Zev said, “I’d say we’re looking at the man responsible.”
Alistair thudded the back of his head against the wall, once, twice. “I don’t want it to be him, Zev.”
“I know, my friend.” Zev blew out a breath. “But it is. And, Alistair...you need to act.”
The King’s eyes drifted closed. “I expect I’ll need more proof than a vaguely worded letter given to me by an unscrupulous pirate captain. I don’t doubt her--do you?” His eyes snapped open to fasten on Zev’s.
The elf shook his head slowly. “Isabela will manipulate those she desires when it suits her, but she is not one to implement elaborate schemes. She would not go through the trouble to steal the seal of Redcliffe, or to pen a letter in Eamon’s hand. She has nothing to gain by lying to you about this, or by pitting you against the Arl; she has no political agenda, merely the need to keep her ship afloat and her crew happy.” Zev paused, considering. “So...no, I do not doubt her.”
“That was my conclusion as well,” Alistair said with a sigh. “I wanted to believe it was a ploy, but it didn’t make sense. Which means she’s telling the truth. Which means...Maker’s blood.” He drew his knees up and braced his elbows on them. Bitterness entered his voice, a tone Zev had heard all too often from him of late. He was stunned at the sudden sense of mourning for the naive young templar he’d met so long ago. “Arl Eamon is well respected through the land, more so now that he’s helped me so often. Decrying him publicly will not be an easy task.”
“Luckily, you have the great Zevran at your disposal, your Majesty,” Zev said with a wink. “I’m sure that between us and Leliana, we can come up with a plan.”
“What, you’re not going to invite Oghren?”
The elf sighed dramatically. “If you insist. He may bring the ale.”
“Now that is the best idea I’ve heard yet. Getting a little drunk sounds like an eminently good plan.” The King pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Maybe a lot drunk. I’ve earned it, don’t you think?”
“And have Bryn scold me when you return to your cabin reeking of ale?” Zev snorted. “I think not.”
“You’re no fun, Zevran.” Alistair clapped a hand on the elf’s back. “Come on, then. Let me check on Bryn. Then we can get to plotting.”
Alistair looked up at a soft tap on the door. Isabela poked her head into the room, and he was surprised to see the genuine concern wrinkling her forehead. "How is she?" she murmured.
"Resting. Her wound is healed, but the blood magic influence is still there." He looked at the mage sitting on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. Had he made the right choice, trusting Fiona to help? His gaze dropped to the slack hand gripped in his own.
"What's she doing?" Isabela asked with a jerk of her chin in Fiona's direction.
"I don't know." It pained him to admit it. For the first time in his life, he wished he had the talent for magic, so he could be the one to help Bryn through this. Instead, he felt like a little boy pressed against a window pane, dreaming of the toy just on the other side. "It seems to be keeping her calm, though, so I'll take it." He regarded the captain. "Did you need something, Isabela?"
Something flickered in her eyes. "I hate to pull you away, your Majesty--"
His eyes closed briefly and he nodded. "Right. Official business, then." He dipped his lips to Bryn's hand. "I'll be back soon, love," he murmured.
He felt like an old man as he rose and stretched muscles cramped from sitting too long in one position. The adrenaline that had sustained him had long ago fled, leaving him painfully aware of the fatigue rippling through his body. He stifled a yawn as he followed Isabela out of the stateroom and down the corridor to her quarters.
A slight breeze behind him was the only indication that they were no longer alone. Alistair glanced back, unsurprised to see Zev slipping through the door.
A corner of Isabela's generous mouth quirked upward. "Zev. I'm hurt. Don't you trust me?"
"Of course not, dear Isabela." He softened his words with an elegant bow and a genuine smile.
She chuckled. "You were smart to keep this one with you," she said to Alistair.
Maybe if he weren't so tired, he would have rejoined with a witty remark. As it was, all the King said was "I know." He sank into one of the chairs opposite Isabela's ornate wooden desk with a sigh. "How can I help you, Captain?"
"It's not so much how you can help me, your Majesty," Isabela said, retrieving something from her desk. "But how I am going to help you." She tossed an envelope at him.
Alistair caught it without thinking. At Zev's sharply indrawn breath, Isabela frowned. "For Andraste's sake, it's not poisoned, Zevran. Do you think I'd be so foolish?"
"Foolish isn't quite the term, no," Zevran admitted.
Alistair turned the envelope over in his hands. It carried no address, but the seal… "This is Eamon's seal." His brows drew down. "And it's broken. You opened it?"
"I did, as it was intended for me." She lowered herself into the chair behind the desk and crossed her arms. "We'd been about to leave Highever for Marnus Pell, the port town near Weisshaupt, as agreed. You and your companions had already departed on that other ship, bound for the Free Marches. I'd been about to cast off, when a messenger arrived with this envelope, and the instructions not to open it until we reached Marnus Pell."
A shiver of foreboding wound its way through Alistair's limbs. His fingers hesitated on the flap. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"No, love." Isabela sighed. "You're not."
#
Zevran hovered at Alistair's shoulder as the King withdrew the letter from the envelope. He could see a few lines of black script contrasted against the stark whiteness of the paper, but he had no chance to read the message before Alistair crumpled the paper in his palm. Without a word, he tossed the letter on Isabela's desk and stormed out of the room.
The elf retrieved the paper from the desk and smoothed it out. Isabela didn't protest, strangely enough; she sat there, quietly watching. Zev spared her but a glance before turning his attention to the letter.
The seas at this time of year are treacherous, are they not? Teyrn Fergus tells me that his sister is not well-used to travel aboard a ship. I hope that you will take every precaution for her safety, but Ferelden will understand should an accident occur.
Fury swept through Zev, and he spat an Antivan curse. "Don't tell me you didn't read between the lines," he growled at Isabela.
"I'm not stupid, Zev," she said, her eyes narrowed. "I know exactly what that letter was telling me to do. Had it been anyone else, they might have found themselves accidentally cast overboard. But, no. Not her."
"Why not?"
She chuckled. "Truthfully? I'd been planning on it until you all came racing down the pier like a dozen rage demons pursued you. Until Alistair took me aside and asked me if I would marry them once Bryn awoke." She looked away, but not before Zev caught a slight glimmer in her gaze.
"Isabela," he said, startled. "You're a romantic!"
"Hush. I could still have you thrown overboard, and don't think I won't. You just keep your mouth shut about that." She flicked her fingers at him. "Go. Keep your King from doing something stupid."
Acknowledging the wisdom of that statement with a slight incline of his head, Zev tucked the letter into his jerkin and left in pursuit of Alistair. A quick glance in the royal stateroom revealed that he hadn't returned. Most likely on deck then, Zev decided.
He'd thought to find the King raging. Or even staring morosely at the horizon as the sun dipped into the last quarter of the sky. Not sitting in the corner, his back braced against the wall, looking utterly defeated.
For once, the elf held his tongue. Witty remarks would do nothing to help. He sat down beside the King, and waited.
"I shouldn't be surprised. I really shouldn't." Alistair swept a hand over his short, reddish hair.
"Why not?" Zev shrugged. "I am."
"Truly?" The King cast a sideways glance at him. His eyes were dark with weariness. "The great Zevran, caught off-guard by an aging arl?"
"No," Zev said soberly. "The great Zevran, caught off-guard by the man who raised a good friend of mine and helped us when we needed it most."
Alistair closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Sea spray coated his skin, but he didn't seem to care. "I am a tool to him. I saw it, back at Redcliffe, before the Landsmeet. I was the means by which to remove Loghain from power, nothing more. Maybe the means by which he can steer the country, I don’t know. He's only ever really cared about the blood that's in my veins, not the boy that was once in his care or the man I've become. I wonder, does he even see me when he looks at me? Or just the vessel for four hundred years of tradition?"
Zevran stared up at the masts and the sails rippling overhead, for once unsure of the best words for the situation. "Why would he want Bryn--"
"Gone? Simple. I thought you knew, actually. I thought everyone knew." He sighed. "Grey Wardens are all but infertile, because of the taint. One Grey Warden will find it difficult to have children. For two…it's nearly impossible."
"Ah." The elf nodded as many things began to fall into place. The tension between Bryn and Alistair, the discussions with Eamon...
"The line of Calenhad ends with me."
Zev's eyes flicked to Alistair's still form at the pronouncement. The elf wondered if the King heard the sorrow in his own voice, or the disappointment.
"He tried to get Cailan to put Anora aside just for that reason, you know. And he’s never supported my marriage to Bryn because of it." Alistair opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to look at the expanse of moist planks in front of them. "I suppose the idea of Maric's line ending here--again--was too much for him."
Zev's mouth twisted as he hesitated to share his revelation. "He is probably responsible for the assassination attempt at the Chantry, Alistair."
The King groaned. "Maker. Are you sure? No, of course you’re right. What are the chances of multiple factions scheming to kill my wife, right?"
“Given her reputation and prowess in battle, not to mention the love and admiration she inspires everywhere she goes,” Zev said, “I’d say we’re looking at the man responsible.”
Alistair thudded the back of his head against the wall, once, twice. “I don’t want it to be him, Zev.”
“I know, my friend.” Zev blew out a breath. “But it is. And, Alistair...you need to act.”
The King’s eyes drifted closed. “I expect I’ll need more proof than a vaguely worded letter given to me by an unscrupulous pirate captain. I don’t doubt her--do you?” His eyes snapped open to fasten on Zev’s.
The elf shook his head slowly. “Isabela will manipulate those she desires when it suits her, but she is not one to implement elaborate schemes. She would not go through the trouble to steal the seal of Redcliffe, or to pen a letter in Eamon’s hand. She has nothing to gain by lying to you about this, or by pitting you against the Arl; she has no political agenda, merely the need to keep her ship afloat and her crew happy.” Zev paused, considering. “So...no, I do not doubt her.”
“That was my conclusion as well,” Alistair said with a sigh. “I wanted to believe it was a ploy, but it didn’t make sense. Which means she’s telling the truth. Which means...Maker’s blood.” He drew his knees up and braced his elbows on them. Bitterness entered his voice, a tone Zev had heard all too often from him of late. He was stunned at the sudden sense of mourning for the naive young templar he’d met so long ago. “Arl Eamon is well respected through the land, more so now that he’s helped me so often. Decrying him publicly will not be an easy task.”
“Luckily, you have the great Zevran at your disposal, your Majesty,” Zev said with a wink. “I’m sure that between us and Leliana, we can come up with a plan.”
“What, you’re not going to invite Oghren?”
The elf sighed dramatically. “If you insist. He may bring the ale.”
“Now that is the best idea I’ve heard yet. Getting a little drunk sounds like an eminently good plan.” The King pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Maybe a lot drunk. I’ve earned it, don’t you think?”
“And have Bryn scold me when you return to your cabin reeking of ale?” Zev snorted. “I think not.”
“You’re no fun, Zevran.” Alistair clapped a hand on the elf’s back. “Come on, then. Let me check on Bryn. Then we can get to plotting.”
#311
Posté 16 février 2010 - 10:51
Sisimka
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This provides such wonderful justification for our current Eamon trashing over at We 
Alistair.
Great chapter!
Alistair. Great chapter!
#312
Posté 16 février 2010 - 11:47
MsSouthpaw
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Sisimka wrote...
This provides such wonderful justification for our current Eamon trashing over at We
Great chapter!
I felt total satisfaction over what Eamon's got coming to him. He's a bad, bad man.
#313
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:12
Miliat
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I really really want this to be canon.
#314
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:15
amethyst_rose2009
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That sneaky old man! I knew I never trusted Eamon.
#315
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:17
Treason1
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I'd seen this coming since the way the first discussion with Eamon was written.
Ahhh, politics.
Ahhh, politics.
#316
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:18
odiedragon
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Wow. I hate Eamon with a fiery passion, but DAMN. GO ZEVRAN GO!
#317
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:22
Tasmen
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Eamon is one crafty and sneaky SOB.
#318
Posté 17 février 2010 - 12:43
AdorableAnarchist
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HATES Eamon... Loved the sad bit where Zev misses the young Templar. This is SO good!
#319
Posté 17 février 2010 - 01:01
Freckles04
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Thanks, everyone! I'm glad this revelation didn't come across as unrealistic.
The "talk" with Fiona is coming up soon...
The "talk" with Fiona is coming up soon...
#320
Posté 17 février 2010 - 02:00
Jannamarie
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Miliat wrote...
I really really want this to be canon.
---
ditto for me
#321
Posté 17 février 2010 - 02:54
EnchantedEyes1
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Wow, just caught up with the last three installments, fantastic! Glad Eamon is finally exposed, hehehe
#322
Posté 17 février 2010 - 04:17
nos_astra
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Uh, a new part of the story. I nearly missed it.
I grew to dislike Arl Eamon anyway.
I grew to dislike Arl Eamon anyway.
#323
Posté 17 février 2010 - 07:37
Sandtigress
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Nooooooo, I can't be done already!!!!
Freckles, you are simply amazing. I dragged my laptop to work with me today so I could read this over lunch! And totally squeeing through all the Fiona chapters. Surrounded by college students who probably think I'm totally crazy. Worth it through! Can't wait for the next installment!
Freckles, you are simply amazing. I dragged my laptop to work with me today so I could read this over lunch! And totally squeeing through all the Fiona chapters. Surrounded by college students who probably think I'm totally crazy. Worth it through! Can't wait for the next installment!
#324
Posté 17 février 2010 - 07:43
Freckles04
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Sandtigress wrote...
Nooooooo, I can't be done already!!!!
Freckles, you are simply amazing. I dragged my laptop to work with me today so I could read this over lunch! And totally squeeing through all the Fiona chapters. Surrounded by college students who probably think I'm totally crazy. Worth it through! Can't wait for the next installment!
I'm blushing. Thank you.
I'm working on the next chapter.
