954 réponses à ce sujet

[Sisimka]

Sorry, Sandi, but here's what I've been doing today:







All you real artists out there, please ignore his face, if I erased it and coloured it again, I was gonna wear a hole in the paper. But check out that armour!

[Maximus741000]

The face can be easily overlooked, considering the absolutely pristine quality of that armour. Wade's dragonbone armour, as it should have appeared!!

A radiant beacon of shining red, glowing with magic and enchantments, not a ruddy pile of rust!! That Herren may as well have sold for cheap.

I can honestly say good work there!

[Freckles04]

The armor is fantastic! And the face isn't bad at all, really.

[Sisimka]

Thanks Maximus, it took me an embarrassingly long time to colour. Now, I should get back to writing Chapter Five!

[Miliat]

As I told you before, that armor is FREAKING AMAZING. Again i really don't think you did poorly on the face. But any mistakes are easily overlooked by that armor.

[Freckles04]

I love the depth you've achieved with the colour of the armour. It's gorgeous.

[Sandtigress]

Oooooooooooo.......pretty.....



I suppose you can be forgiven, 'cause that's pretty amazing. Time for more story now! I'm going into withdrawal. ;-)

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Wow...awesome linework and shading on the armour Me like!

[Kallian13]

I your picture

[Sisimka]

Thanks so much for all the nice comments! For those of you following the story, sorry, Chapter 5 won't be posted until tomorrow.

[Sisimka]

Chapter Five

Zevran arrived that evening to find a solemn dinner in progress. He was ushered into the dining room by a guard and Aedan thought the elf looked as weary as the rest of them felt. He stood and strode over to his friend and grasped his outstretched arm. Zevran patted him on the shoulder before stepping back to survey the other occupants of the room. He then made a formal greeting to the empress, “It is a pleasure to see you again, your majesty.”

Celene smiled decorously at Zevran and rose to greet him also, offering him her hand, “Please, Zevran, you must call me Celene. Though it is certainly a pleasure to see you also, despite the circumstances…” she waved her hand and her face assumed an appropriately somber expression.

Zevran nodded gravely and inclined his head to Celene’s attendants before turning to Aedan and saying in a low tone, “When can we talk?”

Celene was already waving him away as Aedan excused himself from the gathering. He laid a hand on Leliana’s shoulder and she covered his fingers with her own. He then left her and Oghren to ‘entertain’ their guests. It had been a quiet meal, conversation polite and subdued, and four chairs sat pointedly empty.

Aedan led Zevran to Alistair’s study. The king himself was sleeping and when last he’d checked, he’d been informed by the door guards that Brenna was with him. He did not want to risk disturbing either of them again this evening.

His note to Zevran had been brief, the former assassin did not know of Eamon’s death and his face paled visibly as Aedan related the events of the previous night.

“Thank the Maker you are here, Zev, Alistair insists Oghren and I leave for Orzammar tomorrow…” Aedan finished with.

Aedan didn’t want to go, but duty called. Not only was this an opportunity to recruit a new warden or two, he and Oghren were to attend the Proving in an official capacity. They were representing the King of Ferelden and they would be delivering important trade agreements. Bhelen and the dwarves were important allies. Alistair had not needed to remind him of that fact, he’d merely given Aedan that look and Aedan had acquiesced.

Alistair would be on his feet in the morning, youth and condition had been on his side and he was recovering quickly. The mage who had healed him assured them both that though Alistair might find himself short of breath in the short term, there would be no lasting effects. The news had come as a great relief. Alistair had been incredibly lucky, such injuries may have killed someone with less constitution and of course anyone who didn’t happen to have a healer on staff.

Zevran acknowledged Aedan’s last comment with a smile and raised a hand to his shoulder, saying, “I am your man, Aedan, you know that. No harm will come to Alistair while you are gone. Now, tell me of this would-be assassin,” and the elf spat the word assassin as if it were distasteful to be associated with such.

Aedan closed his eyes and swallowed. He did not want to remember what he had witnessed in the dungeon of Fort Drakon. Aedan had killed men, many of them, and some of them in a manner even he himself had found distasteful. After Leliana had been taken from him by rogue Orlesian wardens, he’d suffered a terrible lack of control and had done things that had given him nightmares for months. But none of it came close to what had been done to that plain little man.

“He was caught trying to sneak out of the kitchens and taken to Fort Drakon. Zev, he won’t talk.” Aedan had to swallow again and draw in some air before saying, “They…” he couldn’t say it. He felt like gagging and flushed with embarrassment as he went to the window and gulped in breaths of fresh air.

He felt a hand on his arm and when he turned, Zevran was regarding him with sympathy in his eyes. He said, “He was paid for silence, then.”

Aedan nodded mutely, unable to speak.

Zevran squeezed his arm and said, “Take me to him.”

It was an overcast day and the grey sky and gathering clouds suited Aedan’s mood as he once more made his way to Fort Drakon. He regarded the imposing entryway and couldn’t help but shudder. Any pleasant memories he had of this place, the training with Oghren, the sparring sessions with Luke, were starting to get crowded out by the more dire ones.

As they descended to the dungeon, Aedan studiously kept his eyes away from the lower level. He straightened his back and took a deep breath,thinking Oghren might have been the better choice for this duty, the dwarf seemed to be made of sterner stuff than he. Aedan idly wondered if fatherhood had softened him. Every life seemed more precious now that he was responsible for more than his own.

They stopped outside the cell. The assassin was reclined in the corner, watching them approach. Aedan tried to ignore the fact that the man’s arms and legs looked unnaturally loose and found himself hissing softly as he remembered the sound of those joints separating. He put a hand to one of the bars, steadying himself, and turned to look at Zevran instead.

One look at Zevran’s face told Aedan that the assassin was known to the former Crow. Did that mean the assassin was a Crow himself?

Zevran turned his face away from the cell and looked at Aedan as he spoke. He said, “This man is not your assassin.”

Aedan felt the blood drain from his face. Had they tortured an innocent man? Zevran obviously interpreted his thoughts as his lips crooked into a small smile and he said, “Let me rephrase that, Juilden was most certainly involved, but he is no bowman, poisons are his specialty,” he turned and winked at the man, whose expression and demeanor had yet to change, and said, “Aren’t they, my friend?”

It had occurred to Aedan that there might have been more than one assassin involved, but with this man, this Juilden’s refusal to talk, they’d had no way of confirming any of their suspicions.

Aedan asked, “So he is a Crow then?”

Zevran shook his head, “He was, but it was rumoured that he was recruited away by the Brethren.” The elf then turned towards Aedan and said quietly, “Might I have a few minutes alone with him?”

Aedan shivered, he couldn’t help it.  Who were the Brethren that they recruited from the ranks of the Crows? Sometimes it seemed whenever he turned around, Thedas became an even darker place.  With these thoughts, Aedan had no doubt that what Zevran had in mind was not a friendly chat. He nodded and walked stiffly away, beckoning the two guards at the foot of the stairs to follow him out.

Aedan walked towards the front of Fort Drakon, through the large hall that dominated the front of the fortress and out to one of the sitting rooms where he sank down into a chair and let his head flop back. Maker but he was tired. He tried closing his eyes, but his over active imagination wanted to conjure images from the dungeons. He recalled one of the mental focus techniques Alistair had taught him and used it to think pleasant thoughts instead. He thought of Leliana and his boys.

He felt Zevran’s presence before he heard him and opened his eyes to find the former crow standing directly in front of him. He blinked. Had he fallen asleep? He glanced up at Zevran and took note of the man’s grim expression. He asked, “Did he talk?”

Zevran nodded and said, “We have a problem, Aedan.”


                                                                                         --=0=--

Alistair awoke to radiant sunshine pouring into the windows of his room. He’d forgotten to close the drapes again last night it seemed. He didn’t mind though, the warmth and the light was cheering and he lay there a moment watching the motes of dust dance about in the rays that alighted on the bed spread. He felt well, rested and healthy. The horror of the last two days seemed to fade somewhat in the face of such a beautiful and peaceful morning.

He heard a soft breath to his side and turned his head away from the window. Brenna lay there beside him. Her dark hair was spread across the pillows and her face was peaceful in sleep. His eyes traveled downward over her bare shoulders and he drew in a shallow breath as he studied the curve of one breast, the sheet had slipped just enough. He smiled in delight as he thought about the previous night. Though taking two arrows to the chest was an unconventional method of enticing a woman to his bed, he couldn’t deny his pleasure in the results.

As though she felt his gaze upon her face, Brenna opened her forest green eyes. She smiled and murmured, “Good morning.”

Alistair returned her smile and rolled over so he was facing her. He reached out to stroke her cheek and said, “Maker’s breath, but you are beautiful.  Last night was,” he paused, unable to come up with the appropriate words for what had been a most wondrous experience. He chose humour instead and said, “You know, according to the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now.”

Brenna’s expression clouded and she reached forward to touch two fingers to the small scars on his chest and she said, “I think you already have been…” She looked up at him again and her lip quivered and her eyes filled.

Alistair covered her fingers with his own and said, “Oh, Brenna, don’t…” He felt so awkward, he’d not meant to make her cry! He leaned forward and took her into his arms and held her as she trembled softly against his chest. She was normally such a self possessed woman, it was hard to remember that she was actually younger than him and in many ways, much more innocent. Though she had lost all her brothers to the darkspawn, she’d been sheltered by her father, sent north with her mother to stay with family until the Blight had been defeated.

He stroked her back and pressed his lips to the top of her head and after a few moments she calmed and lifted her face and said, “I’m sorry, Alistair, so much has happened in so short a time.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and said, “No, it is I who should apologise, my sense of humour…” he shrugged lightly and started again, “I’m sorry, Brenna.”

He met her lips then and all thoughts of misery were banished as they kissed. Her usual sweet mood soon returned and before long he felt her giggle against his lips. He opened his eyes to see that familiar twinkle had been restored to hers and she said, “So you really think the Maker will reprove us for not waiting?”

He smiled and said, “Given the circumstances, I hope he’ll forgo the usual punishment.”

She winked and whispered, “Shall we tempt him again?”

Alistair grinned widely and said, “Oh, yes, most definitely…”


                                                                                         +++++

When Alistair slipped outside his quarters, dressed and ready for the day, he was greeted by four guards who fell into a square formation about him and escorted him to his study. He glanced from one to the other as he walked and said, “Will you gentleman be following me everywhere?”

Without turning one of the guards said, “Commander’s orders, your Majesty.”

Alistair raised a brow and wondered which commander he had to thank for his cumbersome escort – Oghren or Aedan. He suspected the latter. 

He was not allowed to enter his study. The lead guard bade him wait outside the door as the room was thoroughly checked. Alistair found himself suppressing a chuckle as the couch was lifted and put back down – he’d spied several balled up papers beneath it, those would be the pages he’d been missing from one of the contracts on his desk. 

The room was given the all clear and just as he was about to enter, Leliana and Zevran appeared at the end of the hallway. They were talking together in hushed tones, but both looked up as they approached. Alistair stepped forward to greet them and was surprised when Leliana engulfed him in a tight hug. She let him go and then patted his arm awkwardly and smiled, saying, “I’m so happy to see you well, Alistair.”

Zevran settled for a grasp on the shoulder and a pat on the back, but Alistair noted he carried the very same sentiment in his eyes…along with something else, something much darker. 

“It is good to see you Zev, thank you for coming,” he said and Zev waved hand in a dismissive gesture and said, “Of course.”

Zevran then stepped away and gestured the study saying, “We have much to discuss.”

Alistair raised a brow and said, “Yes, please, come in…”

They entered the study and settled themselves down, Alistair behind the desk, Leliana and Zevran in front and Alistair turned to Leliana and said, “Aedan and Oghren have left for Orzimmar?”

Leliana nodded and handed him a note. When he opened it, he couldn’t help the short laugh that followed. It was from Aedan and it confirmed his suspicions about the guard. He looked up and smiled at Leliana as he said, “For someone who writes such terse reports, he’s quite eloquent here…”

Leliana grinned and nodded as she replied, “He has his moments.”

Alistair put the note aside and studied Zevran. The former crow was occupying the chair usually reserved for Eamon. As suddenly as the thought occurred, Alistair felt all the lightness of the morning drop away and a weight settle upon his shoulders. He bit his lip and glanced back at Leliana and said, “Ah…have arrangements been made for,” his voice caught and he tried again, “For Eamon? How does Isolde fair?”

“She is so sad, Alistair, I will not lie to you. If you felt up to seeing her later today,” Leliana hesitated. It was well known that he and Isolde had an uneasy relationship at best. When she continued speaking, Leliana moved on to funeral arrangements, “The funeral will be in two days, which will give Bann Teagan time to arrive.”

Alistair nodded and made some notes. He then turned to Zevran and said, “Right, now let’s hear the news that has a former Crow looking so disturbed.”

Zevran leaned forward in his chair and said, “There is an organization in Tevinter called the Brethren. They are akin to the Crows only in that they practice the same art: assassination. There the similarity ends. The Brethren recruit from other societies and it is rumoured that they take only the best. Usually, we would not have even known they had been here…” Zevran paused and spread his hands, “Er, except for what they left behind, of course.”

He didn’t have to mention that what should have been left behind was Alistair’s dead body. Alistair shivered and gestured for Zevran to continue.

“The loyalty of your staff, your guards, and Oghren’s diligence in training your men…these are what you have to thank for catching even one of these assassins.” Zevran said.

Alistair’s brow quirked and he said in a hushed tone, “One?”

Zevran nodded, “There were five of them.”

Alistair felt sick. Five assassins had been lurking in and around the palace that night? Five? He put his hands flat to the desk and leaned upon them for a moment, catching his breath before whispering, “Holy Maker…how did you find this out, Zev? Last I heard the assassin was not talking.”

And again a shudder passed through Alistair’s shoulders and down his spine as he remembered the haunted look in Aedan’s eyes yesterday morning as the warrior who had fought darkspawn and abominations, things that would give ordinary men nightmares, described what had been done to the assassin, all to no avail.

“My methods…” Zevran waved a hand once again and dismissed the question, “…they are not important. What is important, however, is who contracted them, the answer to which I think adequately satisfies why.”

Leliana sat forward in her chair then and Alistair felt his own back straightening as he pushed back off the desk and sat up, unable to tear his eyes from Zevran’s face.

The former Crow said one word, a name, “Anora.”

Modifié par Sisimka, 14 mars 2010 - 01:37 .

[Freckles04]

AWESOME chapter. I loved how you used game dialogue for his afterglow moment with Brenna. Too cute. And to find out Anora is behind all of this! I always knew she was a not-nice-person!



More, please!!

[Sisimka]

Credit Sandi with the Maker's breath line, I wasn't sure about using that one. But I was all over the lightning strike... it was just too perfect, given the situation, to resist.

Modifié par Sisimka, 14 mars 2010 - 02:15 .

[Sandtigress]

Aww, good chapter! I had to stop reading halfway through - the cat turned off my computer. Its nice to have a sort of gentle interlude chapter though between all the action! Five assassins though, goodness me. Can we assassinate Anora once this is through? Pretty please? As a wedding present from Zev? :-P

[Maximus741000]

Excellent chapter, especially the moment of peace between Alistair and Brenna. Are you considering showing us a picture representation of her sometime soon?

So Anora is behind all this wickedness? And here I thought I could paint with just a few redeeming qualities in my fanfic, I must say I'm beginning to revise her fate at the end of it all.

[Masticetobbacco]

meh anora doing it was expected

but lol alistair finally gets laid

[bl00dsh0t]

Sooo...damn....awesommeeeeeeee!!!!!!! Well worth the wait, now moooaaarrrrrrrr:wizard:

And epic drawing skills too, that damn armor looks friggin 3d, respect ^^

[Apophis2412]

Freckles04 wrote...

AWESOME chapter. I loved how you used game dialogue for his afterglow moment with Brenna. Too cute. And to find out Anora is behind all of this! I always knew she was a not-nice-person!

More, please!!

Yes. She is almost as bad as Zevran, Leliana or Riordan (the GW).

[Apophis2412]

Masticetobbacco wrote...

meh anora doing it was expected

but lol alistair finally gets laid

Alistair is finally licking lampposts in winter.
Not to bad for someone who was raised by devout canine Andrastians from the Anderfels.

[bloodtallow]

Awesome installment! And the plot thickens as a new league of ne'er-do-wells are introduced...

The Brethren look like they'll be most interesting! ( though I can't help but wonder if they'll have Sisters among them!  )

Edit: Also, great job with your recent art, Sisimka!

Modifié par bloodtallow, 15 mars 2010 - 06:32 .

[Sandtigress]

*sniffle* 

[Sisimka]

Hehe, it's coming Sandi... it will be tonight!

Edit: And thanks for all the great comments, folks.  Sorry, hadn't visited my own thread yet today.

I've been too busy reading everyone else's fics!

Modifié par Sisimka, 16 mars 2010 - 12:09 .

[Sisimka]

Chapter Six

Throughout the morning Alistair found himself thinking alternately of three people: Anora, Aedan, and Brenna. Shock didn’t even being to describe what he felt at finding out that the former queen was responsible for the attempt on his life. Instead, there had been almost an absence of feeling, which had quickly been replaced by two competing emotions, horror and regret. Aedan might have suspected she’d be capable of such treachery, but Alistair had thought her humbled after the Landsmeet. Perhaps he should have had her executed instead of exiled. But oddly, it had been Aedan who had stayed his hand in that matter. Raw from seeing Harrowmont suffer the same fate, the warrior had quietly asked Alistair to show mercy.

Alistair shivered as he remembered one particular conversation he’d had with Aedan before the Landsmeet. Aedan had entered the Arl’s study so silently, he might have been a rogue, and asked Alistair if they could talk. One look at his fellow warden’s face had been enough to let him know Aedan did not intend to discuss the weather. 

Aedan had spread his hands and said, “I’m only going to ask this once. You give me your answer and then we’ll forget I ever asked it, alright?”

Alistair quirked a brow, “If you already know my answer, why are you asking me the question?”

“Because I said I would.”

Alistair nodded and waited for the question.

“Would you consider marrying Anora?” Aedan asked.

“No.”

Alistair couldn’t deny the thought hadn’t occurred to him also. One of the reasons Eamon was driving him toward the throne was for the purpose of uniting Ferelden. A political alliance with Anora might well have been one way to achieve this. But to Alistair’s mind, if he had to be King, it would be on his own terms. He did not want to be a replacement for Cailan, either on the throne or in Anora’s bed.

Aedan had nodded decisively, turned on his heel and left the study. They had never discussed it again.

Alistair could not even begin to entertain the thought of what life might have been like had he answered that question differently. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity to fall in love, to experience the joy of knowing Brenna.  Thoughts of Brenna calmed him now and allowed him to focus on what was important. He allowed his mind to drift back over the previous night and couldn’t help the smile that relaxed his face. 

He wanted nothing more than to put his feet up on the desk, fold his arms behind his head, lean back in his chair and daydream about the night before. Having found himself in such a position twice now, he had flushed with embarrassment and righted himself. Work needed to be done! He rested his elbows on the desk, dropped his head into his hands and massaged his temples. Focus, he told himself, focus.

Zevran and Leliana had left him alone just over an hour ago. Zevran was making travel arrangements. The former Crow used to tease him about needing his services one day. It had almost become a running joke between the two of them. Neither of them had smiled today while making plans to track down Anora. 

“I will sail for Tevinter with the tide, Alistair. I will be taking my ‘friend’ Juilden with me. Do you want it known that I am investigating on your behalf…or not?” Zevran had asked delicately.

Alistair had considered a moment, but realized that in this he was completely out of his depth and had put the matter entirely into the elf’s hands, “Do as you see fit, Zevran.”

When Aedan found out he’d sent Zevran to Tevinter after Anora, he would be apoplectic. His note had begged Alistair to keep his guards close and Zevran closer.

Zevran was the logical choice to go, however. Alistair had seen Leliana biting her tongue during the exchange and he felt for her, he knew what was on her mind. She’d read Aedan’s note. Had the circumstances been different, might she have offered to go with or in place of Zevran? Alistair did not like to contemplate Aedan’s reaction to finding out he’d sent his wife to Tevinter. 

After Zevran had departed, Leliana had gone to spend time with her sons, a task he envied her. She had paused at the door and turned around and said, “You know you are welcome to come by and visit with the boys anytime, Alistair. Luke is eager to see that you are well.”

Alistair had smiled and thanked her, “I will Leliana, perhaps later this afternoon. Tell Luke to set up a practice time at the Fort for us and I’ll show him how fit I am.”

Alistair dropped his hands back to the desk and pushed his papers around. Tightness spread upwards from his gut as he contemplated the task he had been avoiding. He needed to visit Isolde.

He looked up at a quiet knock and his door opened to admit Celene’s chancellor, Bertram. 

The Chancellor bobbed his head, “Your Majesty. Might I have a moment of your time?”

He had a bulging satchel under one arm and an officious expression on his face. Alistair tried for a smile, but his face felt a little stiff, he hoped his resulting grimace did not offend. He stood and offered his hand to Bertram and gestured the chancellor take a seat.

The meeting was blessedly brief; Bertram merely passed across documents for later perusal by himself and Leliana. In a few days he and Celene would meet more formally, monarch to monarch and go over the treaties together. Paperwork, such was the business of kingship.

After showing Bertram out Alistair collected his four person guard and walked towards the front entrance of the castle. At the door he was met by yet another four guards. He uttered a sigh of resignation and squinted against the sunlight that glinted off that armour as he paced within his steel and human cage toward Eamon’s estate.

He stopped in the courtyard outside just took a few moments to compose himself. Thankfully four of his guards had stopped at the gates and he could actually see through the four that remained, not that there was much to look at; the kitchen door, the dusty ground beneath his feet and the stone walls of the estate. Alistair glanced from one thing to another until he realized he was simply marking time, delaying the inevitable. He went inside.

Surprise mingled with relief when he saw Brenna seated beside Isolde in the sitting room. Warmth bubbled within his chest at the sight of her and he smiled. She rose to greet him and he took her hands as he bent to kiss her cheek. 

“My love,” he said and Brenna returned the very same greeting, her voice low, but sweet. 

They dropped their hands and as she returned to her seat he inclined his head toward Isolde and greeted her as he always had, “My Lady.”

When had Isolde started to look so old? Alistair tried to hide his shock at her appearance. She was normally so carefully groomed, not a hair out of place. Now limp strands of hair worked loose from her bun and her face appeared to have acquired wrinkles. Alistair blinked and then noticed that Isolde was staring back at him staring at her.  Oh Maker, how long had he been staring at her? 

“Alistair,” Isolde's eyes were dark with fury as she regarded him.

Alistair winced. He liked when Aedan, Leliana, or Zevran called him by name; it was a sign of their friendship. He did not like when Isolde did it. Her tone always relegated him to the role of a ten year old boy.

He stepped forward, awkwardly, and took her hand. “You know how much Eamon meant to me, Isolde. You have my deepest condolences.”

Isolde did not answer right away.  Instead she withdrew her hand from his and clasped it to her other, letting her hands fall in front of her and then she looked him in the eye. “You! I blame you for this, Alistair.”

Brenna gasped and brought her hands to her lips, her eyes wide with shock. Though he’d been expecting this, it still caused him to suck in his breath. Clamping his teeth together, Alistair mentally prepared to meet the storm.

“He should have been retired. But you needed such hand holding Alistair. I don’t know why he insisted on making you King!”

Alistair rocked back at the bitterness in her tone and what she said. This he had not expected.

He opened his mouth to refute her words but she rolled right over him, “You should have left Anora on the throne. It was well known she was the one directing Cailan’s rule. You think just because you have Theirin blood that you have what it takes to be a King?”

Isolde advanced upon him then, her face twisted with wrath. She swung back one of her hands, palm open as she prepared to slap him. “And now Eamon is dead. Curse you!”

Alistair’s warrior reflexes kicked in and he caught her hand mid swing. She tried to pull from his grip, but he held firm. She continued to pull and prepared to strike with her other hand as she cursed him. Brenna rose and restrained Isolde’s other arm, gently, as if she were rendering support instead.

“Isolde!” He kept his voice firm and low, but loud enough to command her attention. “It was Anora, Isolde. Anora ordered the assassins.”

Both the women’s eyes widened then and both their mouths dropped open.  Isolde sagged between them and Alistair loosened his grip on her hand. It fell limply to her side.

Alistair continued, “Whatever grievances you may have towards me, Isolde, we must put them aside for now. What is important here is that we bring Anora to justice and it will be done. I have Ferelden’s best…” he paused as the thought how to describe Zevran and then continued, “resources invested in this.”

Brenna raised her eyes to his, her expression one of confusion and despair. As the daughter of an Arl, she would have known both Anora and Cailan. Like Isolde, she would have spent time in Denerim and would have socialized with the former queen.

Isolde had been rendered speechless. She glanced to her side and Brenna took the cue and assisted her to a seat, gently handing her down into the upholstered chair before summoning a servant to bring in refreshment.

Alistair met Brenna at the door and took her hands again. He gazed down into her lovely face and fought to keep his fingers from stroking the porcelain skin of her cheek. Her green eyes were dark and her delicate brow creased with worry. 

Her voice was little more than a whisper as she asked, “This news is most shocking. Your friend, Zevran, he confirmed this?”

Zevran made Brenna nervous. She had met the former assassin on two occasions, both times in the company of Leliana. The bard was immune to Zevran’s wicked humour, whereas Brenna was openly shocked by his manner.

Alistair let his thumbs rub over her knuckles as he nodded and said, “Yes.” He didn’t want to go into specific arrangements in front of Isolde, so he left it at that.

Brenna squeezed his hands and let go. “Why don’t you leave Isolde to me, I’ll take care of her.”

Alistair frowned, “Are you sure?” but inwardly he was relieved by her suggestion. 

Brenna nodded and smiled and said, “I’ll see you this evening.”

Alistair kissed her cheek once more, lightly, taking a moment to savor the feel of her soft skin against his lips before stepping back. He thought to bid farewell to Isolde, but the woman was starting sightlessly at her hands and he did not want to risk riling her up again. He simply backed away.

The noise and the bustle of the market district were a welcome relief. Alistair took several deep breaths as he waited for the tension in his chest to ease.

He considered wandering the stalls for a while, perhaps to choose a gift for his future wife. His face creased into a smile as he recalled shopping trips with his companions. Leliana had always been after ribbons, Wynne had always wanted books. Zevran’s desires were always more furtive and he never transacted business in public. Oghren liked to wait at the Gnawed Noble. Shale had been fascinated by Wades Emporium and had continued to visit the armour smiths even after Aedan had been banned from the store. Sten followed Aedan and Aedan followed Leliana. Shopkeepers were often intimidated by the bard’s escort. Alistair’s smile became an outright grin as he recalled days past.

But now he was King and wandering the market district was an exercise he did not feel up to today, especially with an eight man guard. That was probably more intimidation than any shopkeeper could bear.

Collecting his escort, Alistair decided that yet more fresh air and perhaps a little exercise were in order. He turned towards Fort Drakon.

When he arrived he immediately inquired if Luke had been by to schedule some time for them on the practice yard. The colonel had not seen the boy, which was unusual as Luke spent as much time as he could at the fort, often ducking out of lessons to be here. Perhaps Oghren and Aedan’s absence had dampened his spirits.

Alistair visited the armory and donned his practice armour. This set was not gold and did not proclaim him the King of Ferelden. He liked wearing this non-descript uniform and liked to think he could blend in with the guards if he so desired.

Sweat beaded his brow and though he occasionally felt a slight pull in his chest, Alistair enjoyed the exercise. He swung at a practice dummy for a while and then sparred one on one with some of the men. After two years, they knew not to pull their strikes or try to coddle favour with the king and he made the most of his work out. With the Empress of Orlais in the city and plans to for a wedding and a funeral, his next workout might be days away.

His chest heaving with exertion, Alistair dropped to a bench and gratefully accepted some water from one of the men. He leaned back against the wall, spread his legs before him and enjoyed their easy company for a few minutes as he caught his breath.

Leliana rounded the corner of the yard, Riordan at her hip. She narrowed her eyes and peered about the practice ground. Alistair caught her eye and waved her over and her face relaxed a touch.

“Alistair, is Luke with you?” Her tone hinted at concern.

“No, the colonel hasn’t seen him today. I assumed he was with you.”

Leliana’s face creased with worry and her eyes darkened. She drew in a quick breath and bit her lips together a moment before saying, “I haven’t seen him since Aedan left this morning.” Her voice rose towards the end and her shoulders hitched. “His tutors have not seen him either.”

Alistair had only seen Leliana this upset once before – when she’d been parted from Aedan and believed her husband dead. This woman did not panic easily, but she was obviously coming close now. A coil of fear rose inside Alistair as he considered the possibilities. Zevran had mentioned five assassins. Could he have been wrong? His own breaths shortened and that little pull in his lung tightened as more nefarious thoughts entered his mind. Was Luke lying incapacitated somewhere? Had he been taken?

One look at Leliana’s face reminded Alistair to take a deep breath. He put a hand on her shoulder and attempted a comforting squeeze. He smoothed a reassuring expression across his face and said, “I’ll make sure the Fort is searched and then accompany you back to the palace. We’ll find him Leli, wait here a moment.”

As he gave instructions to the colonel Alistair fought against an awful sense of foreboding. Aedan may forgive him sending Zevran to Tevinter, but losing his son? Despite the warmth of the afternoon he shivered.

Modifié par Sisimka, 16 mars 2010 - 10:02 .

[Sandtigress]

Okay, I might be able to forgive Isolde since she just lost her husband, but really, I don't know who I hate more, her or Anora.



And my bet is that Luke snuck out and went with Aedan!



I liked the little scene with Aedan asking Alistair to marry Anora. Its too bad my girls are always too persuasive at that part - I'd like it if Alistair were more decisive in saying no!

[Freckles04]

Great chapter! I love how the intrigue is continuing to build. And I think Aedan has a stowaway with him....