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[Sisimka]

Thanks to Freckles for her INVALUABLE help in pulling this chapter together.



@Sandi - I could hear Isolde's voice in my head *shudder*



Where's Luke? *innocent look* I dunno...

[Freckles04]

Anytime, Sisi.

[Masticetobbacco]

PLEEEEEEEEEASE make it so someone slaps that bi.tch Isolder

[Sandtigress]

BTW, Sisi......whatever made you think you could fit this marvelous story in...what, you thought..3 chapters? :-P

[Sisimka]

*sigh* Oh, Sandi, we all know I can't count. Was it only last night I was comparing my ability to count with Alistair's?

This story has EVOLVED, like all my stories tend to. I had originally concieved it as a short, funny piece about Oghren and Aedan. At the same time I'd been considering a story involving Luke. And then, peanut butter mixed with chocolate and this is the result! I'm still hoping it's all gonna work...

Edit: They will still travel to Orzammar (next chap) and there are still wedding gifts coming!

Modifié par Sisimka, 16 mars 2010 - 02:26 .

[Sandtigress]

It'll work, its too good not to work!



lol Does that mean you really don't know where Luke is, right at the moment?

[Sisimka]

Yes, I know where Luke is. lol. Do you know where Luke is?

[Sandtigress]

lol In my head, I hear that similar to "Have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?"



Oh, speaking of which, I need to get to my cookies before I go pick up Awakening in a few hours! *dashes off*

[bl00dsh0t]

Cliffhanger after cliffhanger, how inhumane muhahaha ;D Now lets see some blood of anora



moar

[Apophis2412]

bl00dsh0t wrote...

Cliffhanger after cliffhanger, how inhumane muhahaha ;D Now lets see some blood of anora

moar

Masticetobbacco wrote...

PLEEEEEEEEEASE make it so someone slaps that bi.tch Isolder

Bloodthirsty fans you have.


And before I forget:  MOAR!!!!!!

Modifié par Apophis2412, 16 mars 2010 - 11:28 .

[valen_morrow]

just to fit in : MOAR!!!!!!!!!!

[Miliat]

I didn't have time to read yesterday. So yay on Alistair getting down to business, in more than one way.



And Luke, well, I agree, I think he stowed away



As usual, cannot wait for more.

[bloodtallow]

Yay! What a lovely read as I wait for Awakenings! Great job as always, Sisimka!

[Sisimka]

Chapter Seven

Why had he asked Alistair to show mercy towards Anora? They should have executed her when they had the chance. A pounding pain lanced through his temples and Aedan had to consciously unclench his jaw. He balled up his fists instead. His stride lengthened as he tempted the miles once again with his anger, a method he had used on and off over the previous two years.

“Warden?” Oghren’s voice came from behind him.

Aedan stopped and glanced over his shoulder as the dwarf jogged towards him.

“I know we started out a day late, but are we runnin' the whole way to Orzammar?” Oghren panted as he caught up.

The sun was still high in the sky and the day was warm despite the advancing season. Soon the weather would turn and sun would give way to rain, then snow. Aedan uncurled his fingers, relaxing his hands, and reached back to loosen his pack. He nodded to a copse between the trees that lined the highway and said, “Let’s take a break.

They shared a drink, Oghren grumbling over the fact it was water, not ale, and chatted idly.

“If the weather stays this fine, we should reach Orzammar day after tomorrow,” Aedan noted.

“Yeah,” Oghren agreed around a mouthful of dried meat. Aedan knew it wasn’t nug, but every time he saw the dwarf chew one of those leathery strips he couldn’t help the mixture of amusement and disgust that warred within. Leliana was very protective of her pets around the dwarf.

“They won’t start the Proving without us, Warden,” Oghren continued. “Don’t you be worrying yourself on that score.”

Aedan waved a hand, “I’m not. It’s Alistair I worry for. I added another two guards to that contingent we talked about, and another four for when he goes outside. I left him some very detailed instructions. I told him not to leave the palace without armour, if he has to leave the palace at all. Which I suppose he’ll have to,” Aedan frowned and then continued, “I told him not to eat anything unusual and not to take on any new staff.   I told him to take Zevran with him everywhere.”

Aedan rubbed at the scar on his forehead and glanced over at Oghren before asking, “He’s going to ignore everything I put in that note, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” the dwarf agreed once again. Then he added, “Except for the bit about the guards. They know I’d have their hides if they didn’t follow orders.”

“He’ll send Zevran to Tevinter, won’t he?”

Oghren looked him in the eye, “Would you rather he sent your wife?”

With a gusty sigh Aedan reached for his pack once more, “Let’s get a move on, I want to be back in Denerim within a fortnight.”

Oghren heaved himself to his feet and grumbled, “Alright, but no running. Not everyone has legs as long as yours.”

Aedan grunted and attempted to shorten his pace.

They made camp in a small clearing only a short distance off the highway. After a simple meal of rolls and a couple of apples – Aedan detested cooking and Oghren’s pack always contained in inexhaustible supply of those leathery strips – Aedan let his thoughts drift as he gazed into the campfire.

It was a warm night and a fire wasn’t a necessity, merely a comfort. A gentle fatigue burned in his calves and his fingers were a little numb from all the fist clenching, but he had succeeded in out pacing his anger. Oghren’s complaints had drifted behind him all afternoon and thinking back over all the colourful language the dwarf had used to express his ire made Aedan chuckle.

He thought about Leliana next. Aedan’s heart filled whenever he thought of his wife. As if she stood before him he could easily picture the blue of her twinkling eyes, the shine of her red hair. His shoulders relaxed and a happy warmth spread through his limbs as he remembered the previous evening. 

He’d arrived back at their apartment to find the living room darkened. He had thought his family all asleep until he’d heard the soft sound of Leliana’s voice as she sang a lullaby to Riordan. The bard’s voice had always entranced Aedan and even after three years in her company chills still crept down his spine as she wove melodies of her own and fitted words effortlessly to her tunes.

Like everything else about her, Leliana’s gift for song was beautiful. Aedan slipped into Riordan’s room and came up behind her, circling her with his arms as she sang. She was holding the sleepy toddler against her shoulder and the three of them swayed together as they rocked him to sleep. To Aedan’s mind, very little compared to sweet moments like that. He hugged his arms around his knees in memory.

“Practicin’ a funeral dirge there, Warden?” A gruff voice interrupted his reverie.

Aedan shifted his eyes from the flames and focused on Oghren, “Huh?”

“That tuneless humming of yours, you’ll not be accompanying Leliana anytime soon I hope!”

Mirth bubbled up and Aedan laughed, “I don’t remember anyone asking you for an encore at your wedding, Oghren.”

The dwarf grumbled, but the corners of his lips pulled up before he lifted his flask for another swig. Aedan peered curiously at the suspiciously clear liquid.

“Are you drinking water, Oghren?”

With a growl, Oghren replaced the stopper and replied, “The things we do for our women, Warden. You wear frilly shirts and I get my ale rationed!”

Aedan glanced down at his shirt and sighed with satisfaction at the sight of familiar and faded linen. His favourite shirt, it was a little threadbare in places from his armour, worn soft from use, and so old that Leliana never complained when he got it dirty. He worked his thumb through the hole that was just starting to appear near the wrist and grinned with pleasure.

“Stop that, yer makin’ me jealous!” Oghren sucked at his flask as if by wishing he could turn water into ale.

“Felsi is a treasure, Oghren, as is Leliana. We’d be lost without them, eh?”

Oghren growled in response.

“You might be a father by the time we get back! Was Felsi terribly upset at you leaving?”

The dwarf waved his flask in the air and said, “Are you kidding? She practically kicked me out of me own house.” He continued to grumble and Aedan thought he heard the word ‘bronto’ in there somewhere. He chuckled.

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” he asked.

“You know, Warden, I don’t really mind, so long as it’s healthy,” Oghren replied in an oddly gentle and wistful tone.

Aedan could only nod in agreement, he’d felt much the same way.

The next day dawned bright and clear and Aedan matched his pace to Oghren’s. They chatted amiably as they walked, sometimes reminiscing on old times and sometimes sharing their hopes for the future. It had been a while since Aedan had spent so much time in the company of the dwarf and he enjoyed himself. Oghren had a unique perspective on everything.

As the sun began to slip behind the Frostbacks Aedan caught the familiar tang of smoke upon the evening air. Picking out a faint grey wisp above the trees, Aedan pointed it out to Oghren, “Looks like we may have company tonight. Shall we see who else is on the road?”

The familiar grouping about the campfire lifted Aedan’s spirits. He’d wondered if and hoped they might run into some of his Wardens on the road. Kayley slipped from between the trees as they approached and crossed her arms in salute, saying, “Commander,” by way of greeting. 

Aedan returned her gesture and then grinned and slipped an arm about the girl’s shoulders and hugged her to his side. He wasn’t so informal with all of Ferelden’s Wardens, but he had a soft spot for the elven rogue.

Philippe rose from the fireside and strode forward, arms outstretched. Aedan hugged his Senior Warden and exchanged fond pats on the shoulder, grasps of hands and salutes with the rest of the patrol. Taren was another warden he hugged by way of greeting. The slender mage returned his hug warmly and asked after Leliana.

“She is well, Taren, thank you for asking. She will be pleased to see you in Denerim at the end of the month.” Aedan turned and addressed the remainder of his comment to the wardens in general, “If the darkspawn cooperate.”

Flasks, canteens and a wineskin were raised in a toast to his sentiment and Oghren was invited to share in the passing skin of wine. With a gravely laugh the dwarf sat down and accepted his turn, sighing gratefully.  He shot Aedan a look that said, ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’

Aedan grinned and winked in return as he sat before the fire. He refused the wine as it passed him, preferring ale himself.

Philippe sat next to him and said quietly, “What news, Commander?”

The smile slipped from his face and a coil of dread unwound in his gut as Aedan realized what news he had to share with his second. He shook his head slowly and looked up into Philippe’s now worried features, “The news is dire, Philippe. An attempt was made on Alistair’s life.” His nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists, “Eamon is dead and Anora is behind it all.”

His voice had been low, but silence fell around the campfire as he spoke. All eyes rested upon him as he continued, “One of the assassins was caught and interrogated.” 

Aedan glanced around for Kayley, but she had slipped back into the trees, so he continued, “Zevran is in Denerim, he was able to identify the assassin.”

Philippe shook his head sadly and his shoulders slumped as he responded, “Aedan, this news is beyond anything I might have expected. You say Eamon is dead?”

Over the course of the next half hour Aedan related everything he knew about the incident: the particulars of Eamon’s death, the identity of the assassin and what plans he and Zevran had discussed. He ended by stating, “I suspect Alistair will send Zevran to Tevinter to find out more about this Brethren.”

“Brethren, you say?”

Aedan glanced up at the speaker, one of the newer wardens. His name was Runir and like Zevran, he was an Antivan rogue. But there the similarities ended. Runir had dark hair and dark, intense eyes and a tall, lithe build. His easy manner and good humour belied his menacing appearance, however, and he got along well with all the wardens.

“You know of them?” Aedan asked.

Runir nodded, his face clouded with concern. “Anora must not be without resources. The Brethren are not your usual assassins for hire.”

Aedan nodded slowly, Zevran had told him as much before he’d left the city. He couldn’t help the prickle of fear that tingled along his arms and the back of his neck as he heard this confirmation. Shaking it off, he turned back to his second and said, “I hope your news is better, Philippe.”

Philippe’s brows drew together in thought before he spoke. “There are some odd stories coming from the Bannorn. No talk of darkspawn, but entire families have been neither seen, nor heard from over the past few weeks. We are on our way down there to investigate.”

The Orlesian lifted his eyes to meet Aedan’s as he added, “Thedas was a different place when I was a young man. I never would have hoped for and encounter with simple bandits before the Blight.”

Although darkspawn activity had tapered off of late, the newer, more organized breed were tougher to eradicate and even harder to understand. Aedan shivered slightly before reaching over to pat Philippe’s shoulder, “Then I will hope for bandits too, my friend. I will be back this way within a week to ten days. Leave me a message at the next post if you find anything that needs my attention.”

Philippe inclined his head, “As you wish, Commander.”

The evening passed more pleasantly after that. This group of wardens included another man from Orlais, Marin. Besides being a swordsman of note, Marin could cook. Aedan often liked to joke he’d recruited the man for this ability alone. 

Taren entertained them with a story after their meal and Aedan leaned back against his pack, arms behind his head and closed his eyes to listen. The mage did not have Leliana’s voice, but had an inexhaustible supply of tales. Aedan had long ago decided that Taren must have memorized every book in the Circle Tower library.

As was his habit, Aedan allowed his mind to drift. Evenings spent around a campfire with his companions were one of life’s greatest pleasures. He wished Leliana were with them and he wondered if Riordan traveled well. He was mentally planning out a trip with his family when he heard raised voices and the sound of footsteps approaching the campfire.

He sat up, blinking, expecting to greet yet more travelers from the highway. It was not unusual for the wardens’ fire to draw unexpected visitors. Travelers and merchants liked to share their evenings and sometimes the road with Ferelden’s wardens.

Kayley emerged from the trees and she had her arm fastened about the upper arm of Luke. Aedan’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he recognised his adopted son and he pushed himself to his feet. Momentarily speechless, he closed and opened his mouth a few more times.

“Luke!” He finally got out and then added, “What are you doing here?”

The boy flinched and Aedan realized belatedly that he’d nearly yelled. The shock at seeing Luke had been so great! Aedan quickly understood the boy must have been following him for the past two days. He looked him over from head to toe and saw that Luke was disheveled, dirty and had dark circles beneath his eyes.  Dismissing Kayley with a gentle nod, he strode over to Luke and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, son, the surprise of seeing you.”

Luke still had not spoken and when he looked up to meet Aedan’s eyes, he looked tired, hungry and lonely. Aedan pulled him into a hug and was relieved when he felt the boy’s shoulders relax. Luke could be awkward about being held. 

“Ah, Luke, I’m going to guess Leliana does not know you are here,” Aedan murmured and Luke shook his head.

A quiet hum rose about the campfire behind him as conversations resumed and Taren once again took up his tale. Aedan released Luke and gestured him toward the fire, “Have you eaten?”

Luke shook his head and mumbled, "No."

The rest of the wardens took this as their cue to greet the boy. Luke was known to all of them.   His face started to clear and a tentative smile played about his mouth as he was passed from one man to the other and made much over. He was alternately called brave and stupid and he took it all well. The tones of voice were all affectionate.

Aedan glanced over at Luke as he moved around the fire. The boy had a sword and dagger at his back and Aedan noted it was the dagger he’d given the boy two years ago, not long after they’d first met. Luke treasured that dagger and was rarely without it. A rather limp pack hung from his between his blades. 

A couple of the wardens helped Luke get settled and passed him some food and some drink and the evening continued as if uninterrupted until Taren finished his story. Aedan sat chewing his lip and rubbing at his scar as he thought about Leliana. His wife would be beside herself with worry. He was two days from Denerim and one day from Orzammar. 

Philippe moved up beside him and said quietly, “I will send Runir to Denerim, Aedan. Why not take the boy to Orzammar with you. I think the trip would be good for him and you. You are always lamenting the lack of time with your family. Take this as a blessing.”

Aedan met Philippe’s eyes, “Leli must be so upset, Philippe.” As he said the words he could feel her pain. Leliana loved Luke as if he were her own son – they both did. The thought that she might be suffering such anxiety made his heart twist in sympathy.

But he could also see the sense in Philippe’s words. His trip to Orzammar was best not put off any longer and Luke would enjoy the Proving.  He would be turning sixteen soon and despite the circumstances Aedan found himself looking forward to Luke’s company. He nodded finally and let his hands drop to his lap.

“Actually, sending Runir to Denerim is probably also a blessing. It will be good to know another I can trust is at the King’s back,” Aedan conceded.

Philippe nodded his agreement and added, “Then it is settled. Runir is a sound man and he will do his best.”

Before the wardens found their respective bedrolls Aedan had a quiet word with Luke. The expression on the boy’s face when he told him he could accompany him to Orzammar tugged at Aedan’s heart. Luke’s eyes widened with delight and then he added a respectful nod and promised to be no trouble.

Aedan ruffled his hair and said, “We’re both going to be in trouble when we get back to Denerim, Luke. You know that, don’t you? Leliana can be quite fearsome when she’s in a temper.”

Modifié par Sisimka, 16 mars 2010 - 08:09 .

[Maximus741000]

I just finished reading the previous chapter, and my blood boiled when Isolde moved to slap Alistair. I hope his warrior's grip nearly broke her wrist. I honestly don't know what Eamon saw in her when they met. But to sum up, great work!!

Time to read the next one!

[Sandtigress]

Yay, we were right! I like that you brought the other Wardens back for a little. Did your other story getting bumped up make you a bit nostalgic?

[Sisimka]

Sandtigress wrote...

Yay, we were right! I like that you brought the other Wardens back for a little. Did your other story getting bumped up make you a bit nostalgic?

I do have to say, I miss 'Hero'!  It was just so much fun to write.  I had planned for a little renunion in this chapter anyways and even just writing it, it was like visiting with old friends.  I miss all my old wardens!  Hehe.

Modifié par Sisimka, 16 mars 2010 - 07:10 .

[Maximus741000]

I just read the next chapter, and yes, it certainly is a pleasure to see the old team, (well the new team) back to join Aedan. At first I thought Luke was captured, Leliana's going to have both her husband's and her son's backs when she learns about all this. Oh, the humanity.

Nonetheless, thanks for the hasty installment. When they get to Orzammar, we'll see where this goes.

[bloodtallow]

Wuhoo! Philippe makes an appearance! Lovely installment!

[Sisimka]

*grin* I thought about you as I wrote Philippe, Bloodtallow, I remembered you liked him!

[Masticetobbacco]

yea! I love the oghren characterization

[Kulkodar]

I do not have enough time in my day for reading! Another excellent chapter Sis. Keep it coming, don't leave us hanging too long

[bl00dsh0t]

Great chap, but no blood ;D Mooarrr ^^



*goes back to staring at awakening release state in steam*

[Freckles04]

Very nice chapter, Sisi! I'm eager to see how Luke likes the Proving.

[Sisimka]

Chapter Eight

Leliana’s jaw dropped and her mouth worked silently for a moment. She held a note from Aedan. Though he knew the gist of it, Alistair could only hope the tone of her missive was gentler than the one he’d received. A resigned sigh passed his lips as he recalled his new set of ‘instructions’. Amongst the list, which provided for his having ignored the first note, were two fervent pleas: do not let Runir out of his sight and placate Leliana if he could.

“Orzammar?” She stamped her foot and said, “I don’t know which one of them to be more angry with!”

Leliana read the note again and then dropped her hand and literally threw herself into the chair in front of his desk.  

“I don’t understand why Luke would make me worry like this!”

 Her red-rimmed eyes shone with tears.  She covered her face with her hands and bent her head forward. Her shoulders shook.

Alistair stood, walked around to sit next to her and dropped a hand lightly on her shoulder. His chancellor had suffered two sleepless nights as the palace had been searched and guards questioned. The lack of evidence regarding foul play, or otherwise, had hardly been a comfort to either of them.

Once again, Brenna had been a treasure. Upon returning from the Guerrin estate she had immediately set to comforting Leliana. Then yesterday his betrothed had taken Riordan out to play for several hours as Leliana had napped. In a week of horror and strife, it had been the most pleasurable afternoon he’d spent for a while.  He had elected to join her for a short break and Brenna ordered a picnic as together they watched Riordan totter about the garden.

“Should he be putting that in his mouth?”

Brenna smiled. “It’s just a flower, Alistair, it won’t kill him. He’ll probably spit it out in a minute.”

True to her word, Riordan’s brow wrinkled as he leaned forward and spat the offending mush of petals at his feet.

Smiles turned to laughter as they watched the little boy then squat down and start poking the soggy flower with a curious finger.

Alistair reached over and took Brenna’s hand in his. Their eyes met and he gazed at her sweet face, trying to picture a child of their own. 

She tilted her head to one side and softly echoed his thoughts. “I hope our child has your hair.”

Reaching to run his fingers along her check, brushing silky strands of dark hair away from her eyes, he replied, “I disagree.”

Riordan tottered into view, small hand outstretched palm up and bearing the remains of his impromptu snack. Brenna gathered him up and sat him in her lap. A cloud slipped across the sun at just that moment and the garden fell into shadow.

Alistair shivered and his voice took on a more somber tone. “What if it we don’t,” he paused and rephrased. “What if I can’t…”

“Shh,” Brenna interjected softly. “Alistair, the world will not come to an end if you do not produce an heir.”

“Well it certainly won’t be from lack of trying,” he quipped and wondered if his humour was ill placed, but thoughts such as these were uncomfortable and at times more trying than dealing with politics.

She smiled, her eyes glinting with pleasure at his comment. Then she reassured him once again. “We’ll work something out. Perhaps we’ll put this little one on the throne when you’re done with it!”

Tension fled from his shoulders and his spirits lifted as Alistair allowed himself to laugh at her suggestion.

“Though I can certainly think of worse prospects for Riordan, I think our biggest opponent to that idea might be his father.” He pictured Leliana’s reaction and added, “And his mother. We’ll keep this nefarious little plan to ourselves, eh?”

Brenna giggled and let Riordan free of her grasp and they both relaxed back to watch as the little boy marched straight back to the flower bed.

“Time for dessert?” Alistair asked and they had chuckled again.

Looking at Leliana now, Alistair understood her anxiety, frustration and her sadness. He was also fond of her children. While Riordan was undeniably cute, Luke was not without charm. When Aedan traveled Alistair enjoyed his sparring sessions with the older boy and could easily imagine sharing such pleasures with a son of his own one day.

He squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him, the gathered tears spilling onto her cheeks. Her anger had faded and her face wore resignation now, mingled with relief at knowing Luke was at least safe.

Alistair took a deep breath and attempted to honour Aedan’s plea.

“Despite the fact that none of this was planned, I think the trip will do them both a lot of good, Leliana. You know how Luke idolizes Aedan and he in turn regrets not being here often enough for the boy.” 

He paused and smiled. “I’m not sure I’d ever have believed I’d say this, but: Oghren is with them, and that is a good thing. Our dwarven Commander is as loyal to Aedan as he is to me, and to Ferelden. No harm will come to them, Leliana. They’ll attend the Proving and possibly drink too much ale.”

Leliana gasped and blinked and Alistair bit his tongue. Perhaps the bit about the ale had been a little too much.

“Oh, if he gets that boy drunk I’ll…”

“Actually, I think Aedan is banned from Tapsters.” Alistair quickly reminded her.

Her expression clouded further and Alistair spread his hands. “Um, should I just stop talking now?”

This got a chuckle. Leliana took his hand and squeezed it fondly. “No, you are right, Alistair, and I appreciate your words. You and Brenna have been so wonderful these past two days.” 

She wiped away her tears as she slipped the folded note into a pocket. With a tremulous but warm smile she added, “I’m so happy for you, Alistair. To think, in just over two weeks, you will be married!”

Alistair could not help the smile that appeared as he thought about his wedding.

“There is much still to plan,” Leliana started and then her own smile faded. “Eamon’s funeral is tomorrow.”

Maker, what had become of them that one moment everyone was happy and the next they were plunged into despair. Alistair meet her gaze and felt the bleak mood slip over him too. Anora had effectively cast a pall over what should have been the happiest time of his life. Before continuing plans for his wedding, they had to attend a funeral.


                                                                                        +++++

Eamon’s funeral would have been trying enough without the open animosity between himself and Isolde. The Arlessa’s cold manner could be forgiven in light of her loss, but Alistair shivered before the quiet rage still present in her eyes. At the reception afterwards she pointedly ignored him. The most awkward moment occurred when introducing her to Empress Celene.

Isolde’s complete lack of respect came across clearly when she looked down her nose at him as if he were still that boy of ten and dismissed him from her side. Celene’s eyebrows arched at Isolde’s manner and Alistair had caught a look of sympathy mingled with curiosity in the empress’s face as she turned her attention toward the grieving widow. Celene had the manners not to mention the slight, but it had been noted, of that he was sure. 

Taking Brenna’s arm and leading her to a corner of the large hall that offered relative quiet he commented. “I wonder if the Empress realized her first visit to Ferelden would be fraught with so much intrigue and excitement.”

Brenna chuckled softly. “I’m sure she feels right at home!”

Brenna’s presence helped to sooth the misery and sadness associated with the reception and Alistair kept her at his side the entire evening.

After the funeral Runir accompanied him to his rooms. He entered the suite first as Alistair waited outside, patiently enclosed in his four man cage of steel. 

After a few moments a scuffle could be heard. Tension curled in his stomach and the slight pull in his lung became more pronounced as Alistair gasped in a breath. He was no stranger to fear. A year of fighting darkspawn followed by two years of alternately pleasing and placating the Landsmeet should be enough to toughen any man’s resolve. But this was personal. Someone was trying to kill him and as he well knew, persistence often paid off. A fine sheen of sweat broke across his brow and if not for the guards standing about him, he might have leaned against the wall for support. Runir appeared in the doorway holding the collar of yet another rather plain man. 

How did these men achieve entrance to the palace? The halls were thick with guards and the walls bristled with sentries. This assassin tended more toward dark colouring. His eyes were so dark as to be fathomless and the blackness of his hair swallowed rather than reflected light. He had the most curious grey tinge to his skin.

“Comes from handling his poisons,” Runir remarked when Alistair mentioned it.

Alistair nodded and gestured for the guards to escort the new prisoner to the fort. Runir relinquished his hold on the man and returned to the suite. He picked up a chair and placed it in the most shadowed corner of the room and dropped gracefully into it. From this vantage point the warden could watch the balcony, the door and, disconcertingly, Alistair’s bed.

Alistair sat at the foot of the bed and studied his hands while waiting for his breath to slow and his head to stop spinning.

“I certainly don’t mind if you invite your betrothed to your bed tonight, but perhaps the young lady would prefer not.”

Alistair caught a shocked gasp before it passed his lips and managed to smile at the rogue. “Are all Antivan’s so shocking or is this something you and Zevran work on in order to embarrass me?”

Runir laughed. It was a rich, warm sound and did much to relieve the chill of finding yet another assassin in the palace. “You are such an easy target, Alistair, and I don’t mean for the purposes of assassination.”

Runir slapped his thighs and laughed again. Alistair offered him a wry grin. The man’s easy humour was a welcome release and the tension in his stomach began to unwind. He resigned himself to a night without his love. He consoled himself with the thought that he could probably use a full night’s sleep anyway. A blush stole over his cheeks and his lips curved in a small smile.  Not that his lack of sleep lately bothered him…

After a while he forgot the rogue was there. The man’s presence could not be felt and he was altogether silent. He heard not a breath nor a stir of movement. He fell asleep thinking he was glad Runir was one of theirs and not of the Brethren.

The following day Alistair finally took Aedan’s advice. The Warden Commander would be pleased to know he was wearing full armour.

Alistair shrugged and moved his neck. He ran a finger around the neckline, but couldn’t get it down far enough to reach the itch. He glanced down, blinked and cursed. Why did he keep forgetting how bright and shiny and gold this armour was? Spots danced in front of his vision and he lowered his eyelids against the glare of the sun as he leaned back, attempting to rub his shoulder against the armour from the inside.

“Why are you fidgeting so much?” Brenna whispered, her tone amused.

When he glanced over at her, he could barely see the outline of her face. He grimaced and closed his eyes again, whispering back, “I’m itchy and my armour has blinded me!”

She giggled and patted his gauntleted hand, which he felt as a vague tapping.  Her laughter and light tone raised his spirits and momentarily distracted him from his blindness and the incessant itching of his shoulder. Opening his eyes he smiled over at her, relieved to see her mirth was reflected in her eyes and that she looked rested and happy. He leaned toward her, kissing her cheek before moving his lips toward her ear and whispering, “Though I am happy to see you looking so well, my love, I would have preferred your company to that of Runir last night.”

To his other side came a soft throat clearing sound and with the slightest of guilty flushes he inclined his head toward the empress and said, “Are you enjoying the tournament, Celene?”

The empress nodded and smiled widely, her eyes clearly indicating her pleasure in the spectacle. “Yes, I am, Alistair, though the event that most piques my interest is still to come.”

His shining gold armour was not totally inappropriate to the day’s events and the unseasonably warm weather perfectly suited the entertainment. The first round of the tournament was an open competition. Anyone who could lift a sword had been invited to test their mettle against the soldiers of Ferelden’s army. Traditionally this was an exciting event, one that might raise a humble farmer or merchant’s son to the attention of a noble looking to recruit knights.

Alistair looked forward to the second round: the best soldiers in Ferelden would be demonstrating their prowess in various feats of strength and combat. In the final event knights and captains of the army would duel in single combat for the title of Champion. To hear the talk at Fort Drakon, this event was the highlight of the tournament. Alistair’s hands itched to be grasping his sword and shield. His skill and talent was widely known and greatly respected, but it would be inappropriate for him to participate. Besides, Aedan would have his hide if he tried.

As the second round started, Alistair felt a curious tension at his back, he glanced over his shoulder and caught Runir’s eye. He grinned. The rogue’s hands clenched in a familiar manner that prompted Alistair to comment. “Aedan would have your hide also.”

Brenna and Celene exchanged confused glances as he and Runir shared a rueful chuckle.

A cheer erupted from the ranks of Ferelden’s soldiers as one of their captains defeated the last knight and stepped forward to be named Champion. Oghren would be proud of his men.

The final event started and Celene leaned forward in her seat. Normally the naming of the Champion would signal the close of the tournament, but with the Orlesians in attendance it had been decided to add a final round. Celene had put forward two of her chevaliers to duel Ferelden’s finest. 

The first duel made exciting entertainment and a hush fell over the crowd as they watched. Alistair found himself fascinated by the difference in style between the two men. Though the chevalier’s armour was more ornate and his weapons shone with a luster his opponent’s did not quite match, his skill was clearly evident. The Ferelden knight only barely won the match, a victory well received by the people.

Celene merely smiled and nodded toward her second chevalier. A woman strode into the arena. She was startlingly attractive with skin almost as pale as Brenna’s and eyes of a more intense green. Her hair shone about her shoulders, a thick wave of auburn tresses, before she twisted it neatly against the back of her neck and donned her helm. Sun glinted from her armour which shone with a unique brilliance. Alistair aimed a grin at Celene. The reason this chevalier had defied the usual custom by appearing before her helm was in place did not elude him. She clearly hoped to unsettle her opponent. Who would not be unsettled knowing that feminine face was beneath the helm?

It came as no surprise that she won the duel. But her skill matched her audacity and it was a fair match. The crowd enthusiastically cheered her win. The chevalier turned to face the royal box and pulled her helm from her head to acknowledge the empress and the sun caught the shine of metal and flashed around the stands. Alistair gasped and raised a hand as the light caught him in the eyes again and winced. He bent his head forward to rub at his eyes and found himself pushed down against his lap. A scream came from his left and a choking sound came from the right and as Alistair struggled against the weight on his back he saw Brenna fall to the floor beneath him, her hands clutched protectively over her head. Celene joined her, falling to her hands and knees behind the low wall that circled the front of the royal enclosure. The side of her face was streaked with blood.

Alistair gasped and braced himself to push upwards again only to hear Runir growl in his ear, “Your Majesty, please stay down.” The rogue then shoved at his hips and helped him ease from the chair to the floor between the two women.

Screams now echoed around the stands and Alistair could hear the thunderous noise of many feet rushing towards the exits. He turned toward Brenna and touched her hands. “Are you alright, what did you see?”

She cringed and trembled beside him, her pale face taut with fear. Celene spoke from behind him.

“It seems your assassins are most persistent, Alistair. I think they have killed my chancellor.”

Alistair turned about in the small space and glanced over Celene’s shoulder. Bertram lay slumped sideways across his seat and that formerly occupied by the empress. From his throat sprouted two very familiar arrows.

Modifié par Sisimka, 18 mars 2010 - 07:09 .