Love, love LOVE the paper/pillow fight! Fantastic!
But then: what a terrible (in a good way) cliffhanger!
Great job, Sisimka!
FanFiction/Art - Final Chapter (Aedan), (12/27) Interludes
Débuté par
Sisimka
, févr. 25 2010 05:06
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#177
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:08
Miliat
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Holy Crap, you cannot leave it like that! I'm going to have a heart attack over here!
#178
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:11
Sisimka
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Oh, Miliat, did I forget to tell you this is the story where I taint innocent people and torture my characters...? So sorry! *evil cackle*
Yeah, this is the one...
Yeah, this is the one...
#179
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:15
Miliat
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Sisimka wrote...
Oh, Miliat, did I forget to tell you this is the story where I taint innocent people and torture my characters...? So sorry! *evil cackle*
Yeah, this is the one...
*facepalms*
You! You! *wags a finger*
*Think Sisi will be getting revenge fanart for this later*
#180
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:35
MireliA
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That was a cliffhanger all right. You're going to have to be quick posting the next installment 
#181
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:38
DalishRanger
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While I'm glad to read more, I'll actually be quite patient waiting to find out what happens next. For the most part, I've built up a resistance to cliffhangers. Instead, I just use them myself on my comic fanbase. They hate me for it sometimes. 
#182
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 07:33
Sandtigress
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I demand more! Right now!!!!!!!!!
#183
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 08:00
Maximus741000
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Good things come to those who wait, and I believe there's something terrible taking place out there, in the dark reaches of Ferelden.
On another note, it must be said that I loved every inch of it, from the pillow fight to the attack at the end. I might even venture a guess as to what did it. Fantastic work!!
On another note, it must be said that I loved every inch of it, from the pillow fight to the attack at the end. I might even venture a guess as to what did it. Fantastic work!!
#184
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 08:58
Masticetobbacco
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and here I thought alistair would finally swip the v card
#185
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 08:13
TheShadowWolf911
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Masticetobbacco wrote...
and here I thought alistair would finally swip the v card
sorry to be off topic, but how did you get your character in your profile to look like that?
#186
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 08:32
DalishRanger
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Probably with mods; there's several that add more skin and eye colors. Looks like you have a console version though, so you're out of luck if that's the case.
#187
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 01:25
valen_morrow
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Ergh, cliffhangers.. i must see what happens..
#188
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:08
Sisimka
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Chapter Three
Aedan was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the screaming. His eyes snapped open and he took a breath, waiting in the silence for any sound, sure it might have been the beginning of a dream, but no, there it was again. Leliana had opened their windows before going to bed, as the night was so mild, and the hair-raising sound was coming in with the cool air.
He sat upright and tapped Leliana urgently as he swung his legs over the bed and ran to the window. He leaned out just as the piercing screaming reached a new pitch…it was not coming from the gardens below, but from one of the balconies across from his…Alistair’s? Aedan wheeled about and, grabbing only his pants and nearly tripping in his haste to put his legs into them, ran for the door.
Leliana was slipping out of bed saying, “Aedan, what is it, is it one of the boys?” when the screaming started again. Aedan looked over his shoulder and their eyes locked and they shivered together.
“Will you go for a healer, Leli? It sounds like it’s coming from Alistair’s room…” Aedan didn’t wait for a response, but fled the room, his bare feet almost soundless as he raced down the hallway toward Alistair’s room. He met several guards along the way and quickly deduced they were heading past Alistair’s room toward Brenna’s. Aedan felt a cold prickle of fear down his spine…had something happened to Brenna? Was that her screaming? Where was Alistair?
Brenna’s room was chaotic, there were guards and servants all milling about, but no one seemed in charge. Aedan waded through people, the knot of guards thickest about the double doors to the balcony. The screaming continued unabated though her voice, it was definitely Brenna’s voice, had taken on a raw edge. There was still no sign of…Maker’s breath.
Aedan stopped still as he caught sight of the scene on the balcony. He shivered, goose bumps rising along his skin. He swallowed and quickly turned back toward the crowded room, yelling, “Has anyone sent for a healer?” He pointed at a guard and said, “You, get everyone out of here, NOW!” He pointed at another and said, “Go wake Eamon.” He continued pointing and shouting orders for another minute before stopping, wanting to turn around but afraid to.
Then he did and he felt his knees weaken. He took several deep breaths and stepped onto the balcony. Brenna had Alistair cradled in her arms. She was covered in blood. She had finally stopped screaming and was simply moaning and rocking back and forth, tears streaking down her stained cheeks. Aedan crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, “Brenna,” he said quietly and his voice sounded odd to his ears, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and mumbled something. Aedan took her face gently in his hands and turned her head from side to side, he stopped short of running his hands down her blood soaked dress, but it looked like all the blood was…Alistair’s, he was so pale! His normally ruddy skin had taken on a grey tinge and frothy bubbles of blood cornered his bluish lips. The front of his shirt was pierced by two arrow heads. Why was there so much blood, they need a healer, fast! He put his fingers to Alistair’s neck and found a pulse, but it was erratic.
Aedan stood up so fast his head spun. He stepped to the stone railing and gripped it to steady himself as he looked out into the moonlit night. His thoughts were racing so fast he was having a hard time picking which one to act upon first. Who, why, where, how? He picked upon ‘where’ and looked down at Brenna, about to ask her which way Alistair had been facing, but he noted she was looking even more pale than the man in her arms. He needed to get her out of here.
The guard he had ordered to clear the room stepped toward the wide opened doors of the balcony and said, “Commander?”
Aedan tried to remember all the orders he’d given out and asked, “Is someone searching the grounds?”
The guard bobbed his head emphatically and Aedan looked down at Alistair, checking the angle of the arrows. They were… “They were shot from the same height as the balcony,” a soft voice confirmed his suspicion and he looked up to see Leliana standing in the doorway.
Aedan moved toward her, gathering her into his arms as he said to the guard, “Do not let anyone leave the castle, do you understand, no one leaves!”
He then turned his head back to Leliana and said, “Can you try and ease Brenna out from there, can you…”
Leliana answered, “Of course,” and immediately dropped to her knees beside the distraught girl, slipping an arm about her shoulders and murmuring soothingly to her.
Another figure appeared in the doorway and Aedan was relieved to see it was the healer at last. He thanked the Maker they were at the palace rather than somewhere like Gwaren where he didn’t happen to have a mage or a healer conveniently on staff. After the Siege of Denerim Alistair had provided for sweeping changes within the Mage’s Circle, they had been slow to take effect, but even now there was a constant contingent of mages on hand in Denerim itself.
Eamon was standing behind the mage and his was another face that was entirely too pale…in fact, the former Arl was starting to sway. Aedan quickly stepped to his side and assisted Isolde in helping him to the couch. He’d hoped Eamon would be fit to take charge, but the old man was gasping for breath, his brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
He heard a choked sob and Leliana brushed past him with Brenna. Aedan stepped back out onto the balcony and the mage beckoned him close. He said, “I want you to break off these arrows and then draw them through while I channel healing magic into the wounds…quickly, we do not have much time…his lung is pierced…”
Aedan gasped for air, feeling as if the breath had been torn from his own chest as he sank to his knees besides his friend, his Brother. He brushed Alistair’s pale cheek gently with his fingers, then shuffled on his knees behind him, and grabbed the first arrow in both hands. He broke the shaft with a sharp crack, then reached for the other, repeating the movement. He leaned over and grasped the tip of the first, his fingers slipping in sticky wetness before he could wrap his hand about the arrow head and draw it through and out of Alistair’s chest. He tossed it aside and a memory of having to do this very same thing for Leliana surfaced. He swallowed hard and concentrated.
Tears fell unnoticed down his cheeks as Aedan reached for the second arrow head. It hadn’t protruded quite as far and he’d inadvertently pulled it back into Alistair’s chest a little as he’d broken the shaft. He had to reach behind and push on the splintered wood first. The feel of pushing the arrow through flesh sickened him and he had to gulp for air as he again grasped the head, slicing his fingers on the sharpened tip, and wrenched it out. Then came the blood, so much blood, and bubbles, it was bubbling and there was an odd whistling sound. Aedan instinctively pushed his hands over the wounds, as if pressing on the soaked material could somehow stop the flow.
He closed his eyes and moved his lips in silent prayer as he pressed his hands against Alistair’s chest. A hand was tugging at his shoulder, but he didn’t want to let go. As the tugging became more insistent he opened his eyes and the mage was crouched beside him saying, “We should move him to the bed.”
Aedan nodded and assisted the man in removing what was left of Alistair’s shirt, and then together they lifted him and moved him over to Brenna’s bed. Isolde was there, laying down extra sheets and she had warm water ready. He took a cloth from her hand, perhaps a little roughly he belatedly realized as he heard her shocked gasp, and set to sponging the blood away from Alistair’s chest. He knew she could have done it, but he wanted to do it. He had to be doing something otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d remain standing or functioning or sane.
The blood was still bubbling out of one of the wounds and Aedan seemed to be smearing it around and he was starting to feel ineffectual and panicky. He blotted at the wound instead, trying to stop the air from bubbling through. It should have healed by now, what was the mage doing? He glanced over at the mage and said, “Why is he still bleeding?”
The mage looked very pale, which Aedan just did not understand, he’d seen Wynne deal with awful wounds before, though usually in a less vital part of the body. Alistair had been wearing nothing but a shirt, no armour, no protection. The mage hadn’t answered him, he was too busy chanting with his eyes closed, his hands outstretched toward Alistair. Aedan rinsed the cloth out and wiped again, making better progress this time, thank the Maker the bleeding seemed to have stopped. The mage opened his eyes finally and sagged against the bed.
He looked up at Aedan and said, “One of the arrows must have nicked a major artery, that’s why there is so much blood. The other pierced a lung. There was so much internal damage…he will need potions to replenish his blood supply, as soon as possible, otherwise…”
The mage left the words unsaid; they were too horrible to contemplate. That sense of useless panic began to rise within Aedan again, but he pushed it away, not now, not yet… He beckoned to Isolde and asked as politely as possible for the things he needed. She nodded and bustled away importantly. Aedan rinsed the cloth again, but the water was red, the cloth was red and he saw that his own hands and arms were as smeared with blood as Alistair was. He dropped the cloth and just rested his hand on Alistair’s chest instead, covering the wound as if by hiding it with his hand he could make it magically disappear.
There was movement at the door and he looked up. Leliana was escorting Brenna out of the room. The girl looked like a ghost, her eyes were completely unfocused and she walked as if she had no purpose. As they slipped through the door, Isolde returned, her arms laden with bottles and yet more towels. Aedan sighed with relief and offered the woman and tremulous smile.
“Thank you, Isolde…I’m sorry if my manner was…” he tried, but she waved him off and sat beside him, sorting through the bottles until she came up with the appropriate one and showed it to the mage. The mage nodded and between the three of them they propped up the king’s head and managed to trickle the potion between his lips. He didn’t swallow and the liquid pooled out of his mouth and ran down his chin.
“Not so much…” the mage said, stopping Aedan’s hand as he lifted it again.
Alistair gurgled and they had to lift him forward, let the rest of the potion spill from his mouth, the sticky substance forming rivulets down his blood smeared chest. He took a shuddering breath, but his eyes remained closed. Aedan lifted the potion again and this time dispensed just a few drops. It took time, but eventually the small bottle was empty and Aedan thought Alistair’s lips looked a little less blue, that there might have been a slight flush spreading across his skin.
The three of them gently laid the king back down on the bed and then simply sat around him, limp with relief themselves. Alistair’s chest hitched a few times and then began to rise and fall in a more steady rhythm. The clearest indication of relief, however, was the easing of the creases across the mage’s forehead as he again felt for a pulse and let his hand hover over Alistair’s wounds, finally closing them completely, leaving the smallest of puckered scars.
Aedan felt his adrenaline draining away and barely noticed as Isolde stood up and began gathering all the discarded cloths he’d dropped around Alistair during his attempts to clean away all the blood. A light touch upon his shoulder stirred him and Aedan looked up. It was Leliana.
“Brenna is sleeping in Alistair’s room, I will sit with her. I just wanted to tell you where I was,” she said.
Aedan captured Leliana’s hand and threaded his fingers through hers, noting his were streaked and stained with Alistair’s blood, and his own. He’d not noticed the fine lacing of cuts from the arrow heads until now. He looked at them and felt their sting, but it was almost as if it they someone else’s fingers. He looked up at Leliana and said quietly, “I’ll come along soon… what of the boys?”
“Luke will look after Riordan, he knows where to find us,” Leliana answered. She stooped and brushed a kiss across his brow and then with a final squeeze of his fingers, let go his hand and left the room.
Aedan returned his gaze to Alistair. He noted definite signs of improvement. The king merely looked as if he was sleeping now. He brushed his fingers lightly over Alistair’s brow and wiped at some of the stains on his cheek. He was thinking he might try cleaning away some more of the blood when a wail rose from behind him. Aedan turned his head quickly. Isolde was crouched in front of Eamon patting his hands and then his cheek and calling his name, “Eamon? Eamon!”
The Arl’s face was grey, his eyes were closed. He was very still… Isolde looked up, her face a mask of dismay and said, “Quickly, please, you must do something…Eamon…”
The mage had been resting against the head board of the bed, his eyes closed, restoring his mana through meditation. His eyes opened at the sound of Isolde’s keening cry and he struggled to his feet, grabbing at the bed posts for support as he walked toward the couch.
He immediately put his hand to Eamon’s forehead. Aedan could not see the mage’s face, it was turned away from him, toward Isolde, but whatever she saw in his expression caused her to fold in upon herself and collapse about Eamon’s still knees. The mage stooped down to steady her and she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she said, “Is there nothing you can do?”
The mage said quietly, “He is gone, my Lady…” he crouched beside Isolde and tentatively patted at her shoulder, but she shrugged his hand away and folded her arms across her husband’s lap, lowered her head into them and sobbed.
Aedan felt a chill start afresh along his arms. Eamon was dead? In all the chaos that had swirled about Alistair and the ordering of the guards, he’d quite forgotten the former arl’s presence… he’d been so pale, the look on his face when he’d caught sight of Alistair on the balcony. It was too much, Aedan was beyond the capacity to feel the sadness of it, there was just no sense to it. They were all gathered here for a happy occasion, were they not? Maker… where would it end?
Aedan was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the screaming. His eyes snapped open and he took a breath, waiting in the silence for any sound, sure it might have been the beginning of a dream, but no, there it was again. Leliana had opened their windows before going to bed, as the night was so mild, and the hair-raising sound was coming in with the cool air.
He sat upright and tapped Leliana urgently as he swung his legs over the bed and ran to the window. He leaned out just as the piercing screaming reached a new pitch…it was not coming from the gardens below, but from one of the balconies across from his…Alistair’s? Aedan wheeled about and, grabbing only his pants and nearly tripping in his haste to put his legs into them, ran for the door.
Leliana was slipping out of bed saying, “Aedan, what is it, is it one of the boys?” when the screaming started again. Aedan looked over his shoulder and their eyes locked and they shivered together.
“Will you go for a healer, Leli? It sounds like it’s coming from Alistair’s room…” Aedan didn’t wait for a response, but fled the room, his bare feet almost soundless as he raced down the hallway toward Alistair’s room. He met several guards along the way and quickly deduced they were heading past Alistair’s room toward Brenna’s. Aedan felt a cold prickle of fear down his spine…had something happened to Brenna? Was that her screaming? Where was Alistair?
Brenna’s room was chaotic, there were guards and servants all milling about, but no one seemed in charge. Aedan waded through people, the knot of guards thickest about the double doors to the balcony. The screaming continued unabated though her voice, it was definitely Brenna’s voice, had taken on a raw edge. There was still no sign of…Maker’s breath.
Aedan stopped still as he caught sight of the scene on the balcony. He shivered, goose bumps rising along his skin. He swallowed and quickly turned back toward the crowded room, yelling, “Has anyone sent for a healer?” He pointed at a guard and said, “You, get everyone out of here, NOW!” He pointed at another and said, “Go wake Eamon.” He continued pointing and shouting orders for another minute before stopping, wanting to turn around but afraid to.
Then he did and he felt his knees weaken. He took several deep breaths and stepped onto the balcony. Brenna had Alistair cradled in her arms. She was covered in blood. She had finally stopped screaming and was simply moaning and rocking back and forth, tears streaking down her stained cheeks. Aedan crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, “Brenna,” he said quietly and his voice sounded odd to his ears, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and mumbled something. Aedan took her face gently in his hands and turned her head from side to side, he stopped short of running his hands down her blood soaked dress, but it looked like all the blood was…Alistair’s, he was so pale! His normally ruddy skin had taken on a grey tinge and frothy bubbles of blood cornered his bluish lips. The front of his shirt was pierced by two arrow heads. Why was there so much blood, they need a healer, fast! He put his fingers to Alistair’s neck and found a pulse, but it was erratic.
Aedan stood up so fast his head spun. He stepped to the stone railing and gripped it to steady himself as he looked out into the moonlit night. His thoughts were racing so fast he was having a hard time picking which one to act upon first. Who, why, where, how? He picked upon ‘where’ and looked down at Brenna, about to ask her which way Alistair had been facing, but he noted she was looking even more pale than the man in her arms. He needed to get her out of here.
The guard he had ordered to clear the room stepped toward the wide opened doors of the balcony and said, “Commander?”
Aedan tried to remember all the orders he’d given out and asked, “Is someone searching the grounds?”
The guard bobbed his head emphatically and Aedan looked down at Alistair, checking the angle of the arrows. They were… “They were shot from the same height as the balcony,” a soft voice confirmed his suspicion and he looked up to see Leliana standing in the doorway.
Aedan moved toward her, gathering her into his arms as he said to the guard, “Do not let anyone leave the castle, do you understand, no one leaves!”
He then turned his head back to Leliana and said, “Can you try and ease Brenna out from there, can you…”
Leliana answered, “Of course,” and immediately dropped to her knees beside the distraught girl, slipping an arm about her shoulders and murmuring soothingly to her.
Another figure appeared in the doorway and Aedan was relieved to see it was the healer at last. He thanked the Maker they were at the palace rather than somewhere like Gwaren where he didn’t happen to have a mage or a healer conveniently on staff. After the Siege of Denerim Alistair had provided for sweeping changes within the Mage’s Circle, they had been slow to take effect, but even now there was a constant contingent of mages on hand in Denerim itself.
Eamon was standing behind the mage and his was another face that was entirely too pale…in fact, the former Arl was starting to sway. Aedan quickly stepped to his side and assisted Isolde in helping him to the couch. He’d hoped Eamon would be fit to take charge, but the old man was gasping for breath, his brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
He heard a choked sob and Leliana brushed past him with Brenna. Aedan stepped back out onto the balcony and the mage beckoned him close. He said, “I want you to break off these arrows and then draw them through while I channel healing magic into the wounds…quickly, we do not have much time…his lung is pierced…”
Aedan gasped for air, feeling as if the breath had been torn from his own chest as he sank to his knees besides his friend, his Brother. He brushed Alistair’s pale cheek gently with his fingers, then shuffled on his knees behind him, and grabbed the first arrow in both hands. He broke the shaft with a sharp crack, then reached for the other, repeating the movement. He leaned over and grasped the tip of the first, his fingers slipping in sticky wetness before he could wrap his hand about the arrow head and draw it through and out of Alistair’s chest. He tossed it aside and a memory of having to do this very same thing for Leliana surfaced. He swallowed hard and concentrated.
Tears fell unnoticed down his cheeks as Aedan reached for the second arrow head. It hadn’t protruded quite as far and he’d inadvertently pulled it back into Alistair’s chest a little as he’d broken the shaft. He had to reach behind and push on the splintered wood first. The feel of pushing the arrow through flesh sickened him and he had to gulp for air as he again grasped the head, slicing his fingers on the sharpened tip, and wrenched it out. Then came the blood, so much blood, and bubbles, it was bubbling and there was an odd whistling sound. Aedan instinctively pushed his hands over the wounds, as if pressing on the soaked material could somehow stop the flow.
He closed his eyes and moved his lips in silent prayer as he pressed his hands against Alistair’s chest. A hand was tugging at his shoulder, but he didn’t want to let go. As the tugging became more insistent he opened his eyes and the mage was crouched beside him saying, “We should move him to the bed.”
Aedan nodded and assisted the man in removing what was left of Alistair’s shirt, and then together they lifted him and moved him over to Brenna’s bed. Isolde was there, laying down extra sheets and she had warm water ready. He took a cloth from her hand, perhaps a little roughly he belatedly realized as he heard her shocked gasp, and set to sponging the blood away from Alistair’s chest. He knew she could have done it, but he wanted to do it. He had to be doing something otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d remain standing or functioning or sane.
The blood was still bubbling out of one of the wounds and Aedan seemed to be smearing it around and he was starting to feel ineffectual and panicky. He blotted at the wound instead, trying to stop the air from bubbling through. It should have healed by now, what was the mage doing? He glanced over at the mage and said, “Why is he still bleeding?”
The mage looked very pale, which Aedan just did not understand, he’d seen Wynne deal with awful wounds before, though usually in a less vital part of the body. Alistair had been wearing nothing but a shirt, no armour, no protection. The mage hadn’t answered him, he was too busy chanting with his eyes closed, his hands outstretched toward Alistair. Aedan rinsed the cloth out and wiped again, making better progress this time, thank the Maker the bleeding seemed to have stopped. The mage opened his eyes finally and sagged against the bed.
He looked up at Aedan and said, “One of the arrows must have nicked a major artery, that’s why there is so much blood. The other pierced a lung. There was so much internal damage…he will need potions to replenish his blood supply, as soon as possible, otherwise…”
The mage left the words unsaid; they were too horrible to contemplate. That sense of useless panic began to rise within Aedan again, but he pushed it away, not now, not yet… He beckoned to Isolde and asked as politely as possible for the things he needed. She nodded and bustled away importantly. Aedan rinsed the cloth again, but the water was red, the cloth was red and he saw that his own hands and arms were as smeared with blood as Alistair was. He dropped the cloth and just rested his hand on Alistair’s chest instead, covering the wound as if by hiding it with his hand he could make it magically disappear.
There was movement at the door and he looked up. Leliana was escorting Brenna out of the room. The girl looked like a ghost, her eyes were completely unfocused and she walked as if she had no purpose. As they slipped through the door, Isolde returned, her arms laden with bottles and yet more towels. Aedan sighed with relief and offered the woman and tremulous smile.
“Thank you, Isolde…I’m sorry if my manner was…” he tried, but she waved him off and sat beside him, sorting through the bottles until she came up with the appropriate one and showed it to the mage. The mage nodded and between the three of them they propped up the king’s head and managed to trickle the potion between his lips. He didn’t swallow and the liquid pooled out of his mouth and ran down his chin.
“Not so much…” the mage said, stopping Aedan’s hand as he lifted it again.
Alistair gurgled and they had to lift him forward, let the rest of the potion spill from his mouth, the sticky substance forming rivulets down his blood smeared chest. He took a shuddering breath, but his eyes remained closed. Aedan lifted the potion again and this time dispensed just a few drops. It took time, but eventually the small bottle was empty and Aedan thought Alistair’s lips looked a little less blue, that there might have been a slight flush spreading across his skin.
The three of them gently laid the king back down on the bed and then simply sat around him, limp with relief themselves. Alistair’s chest hitched a few times and then began to rise and fall in a more steady rhythm. The clearest indication of relief, however, was the easing of the creases across the mage’s forehead as he again felt for a pulse and let his hand hover over Alistair’s wounds, finally closing them completely, leaving the smallest of puckered scars.
Aedan felt his adrenaline draining away and barely noticed as Isolde stood up and began gathering all the discarded cloths he’d dropped around Alistair during his attempts to clean away all the blood. A light touch upon his shoulder stirred him and Aedan looked up. It was Leliana.
“Brenna is sleeping in Alistair’s room, I will sit with her. I just wanted to tell you where I was,” she said.
Aedan captured Leliana’s hand and threaded his fingers through hers, noting his were streaked and stained with Alistair’s blood, and his own. He’d not noticed the fine lacing of cuts from the arrow heads until now. He looked at them and felt their sting, but it was almost as if it they someone else’s fingers. He looked up at Leliana and said quietly, “I’ll come along soon… what of the boys?”
“Luke will look after Riordan, he knows where to find us,” Leliana answered. She stooped and brushed a kiss across his brow and then with a final squeeze of his fingers, let go his hand and left the room.
Aedan returned his gaze to Alistair. He noted definite signs of improvement. The king merely looked as if he was sleeping now. He brushed his fingers lightly over Alistair’s brow and wiped at some of the stains on his cheek. He was thinking he might try cleaning away some more of the blood when a wail rose from behind him. Aedan turned his head quickly. Isolde was crouched in front of Eamon patting his hands and then his cheek and calling his name, “Eamon? Eamon!”
The Arl’s face was grey, his eyes were closed. He was very still… Isolde looked up, her face a mask of dismay and said, “Quickly, please, you must do something…Eamon…”
The mage had been resting against the head board of the bed, his eyes closed, restoring his mana through meditation. His eyes opened at the sound of Isolde’s keening cry and he struggled to his feet, grabbing at the bed posts for support as he walked toward the couch.
He immediately put his hand to Eamon’s forehead. Aedan could not see the mage’s face, it was turned away from him, toward Isolde, but whatever she saw in his expression caused her to fold in upon herself and collapse about Eamon’s still knees. The mage stooped down to steady her and she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she said, “Is there nothing you can do?”
The mage said quietly, “He is gone, my Lady…” he crouched beside Isolde and tentatively patted at her shoulder, but she shrugged his hand away and folded her arms across her husband’s lap, lowered her head into them and sobbed.
Aedan felt a chill start afresh along his arms. Eamon was dead? In all the chaos that had swirled about Alistair and the ordering of the guards, he’d quite forgotten the former arl’s presence… he’d been so pale, the look on his face when he’d caught sight of Alistair on the balcony. It was too much, Aedan was beyond the capacity to feel the sadness of it, there was just no sense to it. They were all gathered here for a happy occasion, were they not? Maker… where would it end?
#189
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:20
Freckles04
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- Members
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Yay, Alistair is alive!
I'm trying to feel sorry for Eamon, but he wasn't nice in my story, so that's biased me a little, lol.
Alistair is going to be a sad, angry puppy.
I'm trying to feel sorry for Eamon, but he wasn't nice in my story, so that's biased me a little, lol.
Alistair is going to be a sad, angry puppy.
#190
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:26
Sisimka
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Let's just say I killed him for you then, eh? Hehe.
But yeah, it's going to make Alistair very sad...
But yeah, it's going to make Alistair very sad...
#191
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:33
Sandtigress
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Yay a chapter to wake up to!
So now the question is....who dun it? There are obvious suspects....and potential suspects. Hmm..... And is Eamon coincidental, or part of some devious scheme to take over Ferelden!
Sad, angry puppy...that's a picture just asking to be drawn. I need to see this.
So now the question is....who dun it? There are obvious suspects....and potential suspects. Hmm..... And is Eamon coincidental, or part of some devious scheme to take over Ferelden!
Sad, angry puppy...that's a picture just asking to be drawn. I need to see this.
#192
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:36
Sisimka
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Sandtigress wrote...
So now the question is....who dun it? There are obvious suspects....and potential suspects. Hmm..... And is Eamon coincidental, or part of some devious scheme to take over Ferelden!
You don't really want me to answer this, right?
Sad, angry puppy...that's a picture just asking to be drawn. I need to see this.
That might be Miliat's job...
#193
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:44
Sandtigress
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Sisimka wrote...
Sandtigress wrote...
So now the question is....who dun it? There are obvious suspects....and potential suspects. Hmm..... And is Eamon coincidental, or part of some devious scheme to take over Ferelden!
You don't really want me to answer this, right?
Well, not right now unless you want to put another chapter up for us...
But you'd better answer it eventually!Sad, angry puppy...that's a picture just asking to be drawn. I need to see this.
That might be Miliat's job...
Haha, it might very well be!! Miliat, draw us a sad, angry puppy Alistair please! Pretty please!
#194
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:48
Sisimka
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Sandtigress wrote...
Well, not right now unless you want to put another chapter up for us...
Unfortunately Chapter four is as yet unwritten. Did I just hear you gasp? Chapter (maybe six, possibly seven) is written as is the last Chapter... yes, I'm a nutcase... I honestly don't know why you keep reading my stories!!! (But I'm glad you do...
)
#195
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:56
Sandtigress
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Today, I can be patient, as I know that my favorite character in the world won't die.....yet....anyways at your nefarious hands! And I can't really criticize for having things written out of order...that's how I'd end up doing it were I to actually put my thoughts in writing. I have the beginning and the end and a little of the middle, but all that stuff in between is too bothersome! :-P
#196
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 03:59
Sisimka
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Sandtigress wrote...
as I know that my favorite character in the world won't die.....yet....anyways at your nefarious hands!
Aedan heard that... he's hurt...
#197
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 04:00
Sandtigress
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Aedan is second-favorite guy, almost tied, tell him not to worry. ;-)
#198
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 04:34
Miliat
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Heart attack averted!
I do feel sorry for Eamon and dare I say Isolde. Such a tragic night.
I do feel sorry for Eamon and dare I say Isolde. Such a tragic night.
#199
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 10:05
Maximus741000
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Sisimka wrote...
Let's just say I killed him for you then, eh? Hehe.
But yeah, it's going to make Alistair very sad...
I still can't beleive it, the whole event hit me like a kick in the stomach. it releived me that you didn't kill Alistair, but Eamon dead? I never would have dreamed. I never really hated him, but saw him as the key to human military aid against the Blight.
They should have looked at the arrows that pierced Alistair. But these assassins, I have a strong suspicion it was the darkspawn. More specifically the intelligent ones who can talk, one of them must have infiltrated Denerim as guard and launched his attack from the balcony.
#200
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 10:17
Sisimka
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Maximus741000 wrote...
I still can't beleive it, the whole event hit me like a kick in the stomach. it releived me that you didn't kill Alistair, but Eamon dead? I never would have dreamed. I never really hated him, but saw him as the key to human military aid against the Blight.
I didn't hate him either, Maximus, I always tried to paint him as a 'fond' uncle kind of character. But Freckles put a really interesting twist on Eamon in her own fic 'Repercussions', which I highly recommend! Also, we've discussed in our group how Eamon may have used Alistair as a tool for his own ambitions. A point I can see and do partly agree with, but never took on as part of my fic. I felt Alistair needed the support of Eamon with Aedan being gone most of the time, so I cast him in a more benevolent role.
They should have looked at the arrows that pierced Alistair. But these assassins, I have a strong suspicion it was the darkspawn. More specifically the intelligent ones who can talk, one of them must have infiltrated Denerim as guard and launched his attack from the balcony.
We'll get there, don't you worry!
