336 réponses à ce sujet

[LadyDamodred]

Chapter 28

Nathaniel ducked into an empty room quickly to avoid the sentry walking down the hall, cursing silently that his own first foray back into the Vigil was partly responsible for his current difficulties. He waited, ear pressed to the door for the sound of footsteps to recede and cautiously continued on his way. He could not afford to be caught moving suspiciously; none of them could. If Delano had the slightest provocation to imprison or send him away, all of their careful planning would be for naught.

Four months ago, just before he was wounded, Nathaniel had told Lya and Alistair that he thought things might be improving. He had been wrong. Upon his return to the Vigil, he had found that Delano and the other Wardens were openly critical of Lya. Her choices during the Blight and the events surrounding the Architect were openly discussed and discredited in front of the younger Wardens. The time since his return had fared no better. The younger Wardens, and the Vigil's knights and soldiers, were all Fereldans who saw Lya as a hero; to them she really was the Savior of Ferelden. But when you live every day hearing nothing but criticism of your hero from the people above you in authority, people you also saw as heroes, your views will begin to change. Nathaniel was watching it happen and it galled him. Something had to be done to combat it, and he couldn't risk himself, not now.

But there were others he could risk; others who not only could handle any trouble that came at them, but would openly invite it. He had thought a long time about going through with this plan, knowing how greatly it could endanger his friends. Each day he delayed was a day lost to turn things around and eventually he decided he had to act. That was why he now found himself sneaking through the halls of his former home, holding a clandestine meeting, to decide how to defend friends against their own.

He wasn't surprised to see that only Justice had made it to the small room in an older section of the keep so far. Justice had more latitude to move around, being a corpse and not needing to sleep. Delano saw him as a completely neutral entity, a façade they had worked hard to perfect and maintain, and Nathaniel prayed it had been enough.

Justice nodded to him as he entered and they waited in silence for the others. Minutes ticked by, and Nathaniel was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong when the door opened. Anders ducked his head in for a quick look around before smiling in relief and closing the door behind him swiftly. Silence returned as the three men waited for their last companion. Anders rocked nervously back and forth on his feet and Nathaniel shot him an irritated glance. Waiting was bad enough; he didn't need a twitchy mage making his taut nerves any worse.

The door swung open and Oghren marched in, shutting it with a loud thud. "Maker's breath!" Nathaniel hissed. "Why not simply announce where you were going tonight?"

"Bah! You worry too much. Besides, those Wardens Delano has on watch are suckers for free gifts. I doubt they'll wake up for hours, and when they do, they're not going to remember much." He laughed and settled down in one of the chairs around the small table. "So, you going to tell us why we're up at this ancestor-forsaken hour?"

Nathaniel sighed and drew out a chair for himself, gesturing for Anders and Justice to take seats as well. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "We have a problem."

Oghren snorted. "Just the one? That's a switch."

"We're losing the Wardens, the new ones. They're forgetting everything Lya did, or having it remembered in a twisted fashion."

"What do you suggest we do?" Justice asked quietly.

"I think what Howe is trying to say is that we need to start reminding them of just who she is." Anders looked over at Nathaniel. "Or have I missed the mark?"

"That's exactly it. But it's not going to be that easy." He looked over at Oghren. "How are you at telling stories?"

"I'm no bard, if that's what you're asking. But I can spin a pretty good yarn when the situation calls for it."

"Especially when you're drunk," Anders muttered.

"You don't need to be a bard. You're the only one of us who was with her during the Blight. Out of all of us, you're the only one with any real authority to talk about what it was like."

The dwarf frowned. "I joined her pretty late, you know. You think I'm the best one for this?"

"You're the only one for this, Oghren. You were there in the Deep Roads with her. Through the broodmother-" Oghren shuddered. "The broodmother, Caradin and Branka, the High Dragon, the Landsmeet, the final battle, all of that. And you traveled with them. You heard all the stories. You were her friend before the rest of us even knew her name."

Oghren nodded slowly. "Aye, I can do that. Delano ain't going to like it, and that's all right by me." He grinned at his friends. "Things were getting too sodding dull around here anyway. I'll tell your tales for you, Howe. We'll show all of them what the Warden's really made of."

"Thank you, Oghren. We also need someone who was here when Lya first came. Someone who was here from the start of everything that happened in Amaranthine." Three pairs of eyes slid over the Anders and he look startled.

"Me? You want me to do it? Delano already doesn't like me. This isn't going to make me any more popular with him, you know."

"That's exactly the point, Anders," Nathaniel explained patiently. "He expects you to cause trouble. You do have a reputation."

"And a well earned one, I might add. I know what you're getting at. You want us to draw their attention so you can do whatever sneaky stuff it is you have planned. Fine, fine, I'll see what I can do. Don't know why you think anyone will listen to me, though."

"Oh, they'll listen," Oghren said. "Being able to boil a man's eyes right out of the sockets tends to make people pretty attentive."

Nathaniel looked at his friends. "It will be dangerous. You don't have to do this, you know."

Oghren snorted again. "Ain't like I have a choice. The skirt here might be able to back down, but I won't."

Anders gave Oghren a challenging look. "Are you calling me a coward?"

"I didn't say that. Jumped to that conclusion awfully quickly, though. Think maybe you're trying to hide something?"

"Why you foul-smelling, sodden excuse for a dwarf! Is this a challenge? Fine. First one of us to get ourselves killed by Delano wins."

"You're on, mage."

Nathaniel sighed, but in amusement and relief. He wasn't sure if Anders would be willing to go through with this. He didn't doubt the man's commitment or loyalty to Lya, but continually being hunted by templars had made him a little skittish.

"And what do you wish me to do?" Justice's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You…. I want you to listen and watch. Gauge reactions as best you can, report back to me on anything—anyone—that seems off." Justice nodded and Nathaniel turned back to the bickering mage and dwarf.

"Don't overdo it," he warned. "Tell stories, reminds the Wardens who she is and what she did, but don't get yourself killed over it."

"Let the blighters do their worst. We're her Wardens; we're not going to back down from this."

Nathaniel nodded and stood, the others rising with him. He looked at each of them in turn. "When we leave here, we can't meet again. I'm going to have to keep my distance from you while I play good little Warden. You need to stay away from Justice, as well. We can't jeopardize his neutrality. The two of you will be alone for this, do you understand?"

"Aye, aye, I understand. Don't need to tell me twice. We're sticking our necks out for the Commander and you're not going to be there if they hold our danglers over a fire. Got it. Anything else before I go and see if those boys left anything in my flask?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "I don't think so. Just…" he paused and grinned. "Make the stories good, Oghren."

Oghren chuckled and grinned wickedly. He opened the door and walked out, not even bothering to see if the way was clear. Nathaniel wished he had the dwarf's optimism. As Anders was going to leave, Nathaniel held him back for a moment. "Listen, if the pressure gets to be too much…."

"Run? Yes, I'd figured that out. If it comes to that, I assume we can go to Denerim?"

"Yes. She'll protect you. You may have to force Oghren to go with you, though."

"Don't worry. I'll just threaten to set his beard on fire. That always seems to get him going."

Nathaniel clasped Anders's hand in his own. "Be careful." Anders gave him a wolfish grin.

"We'll be fine."

Oghren started his campaign about a week later in typical Oghren fashion. He got slightly drunk, by his standards, and proceeded to regale the dinner table with the tale of how they killed the broodmother. Everyone, even the foreign Wardens, listened with a sort of horrified fascination. Nathaniel, sitting well apart from Oghren, admired the dwarf's use of the word "jiggled" and the effect it had on all present. He had battled the Mother, he knew how disgusting it was, but Oghren in all his pithiness gave it an entirely new flair.

A quick glance at where Delano sat confirmed Nathaniel's suspicions. Delano looked displeased, but said nothing. Oghren carried a certain amount of weight and respect around the Vigil, and taking him to task would not go over very well.

Anders's campaign was more subtle. He would talk with Wardens and soldiers one-on-one or a few at a time. His manner was always pleasant, always charming, and always driving home everything Lya had done for Amaranthine. Casual comments like "Oh, that's where we killed the first talking darkspawn we met." or "That's the armor we found after escaping from the Fade. Did you know she's done that twice?" In a way, his simple, matter of fact delivery brought home her deeds more completely for a lot of the men.

The change was not immediate. Oghren did a surprisingly good job pacing himself. He didn't regale them with tales every night, limiting himself to once or twice a week. But he would drop hints, and between him and Anders, the men began asking for stories.

There was a slight shift in the atmosphere of the Vigil, as Anders and Oghren deliberately put themselves against Delano. Along with the apparent shifting of sympathies towards them and Lya, there was also an increase in tension. Some of Delano's Wardens were clearly irritated by what was happening, and some of the younger Wardens were now clearly mistrustful of things they had been told previously. He wondered how long they could keep it up, and considered whether or not to tell Oghren and Anders to back off. If there were open confrontations, it would undo much of the work they had accomplished.

He held off, though, when Justice reported that he had been approached by some of the older Wardens for his account of things. Nathaniel thought that maybe they were making some headway against ingrained prejudices the older Wardens had. So he let his friends continue, and hoped that it would be enough.

[Sandtigress]

Ah, how quickly people forget the heroes. Good think Lya has friends who remember! Anders to the rescue this time, yay!

[Miri1984]

Hooray for Anders. And this line: "Nathaniel, sitting well apart from Oghren, admired the dwarf's use of the word "jiggled" and the effect it had on all present." - priceless. Implied Oghren lewdity (is that even a word??) is somehow more effective than the actual kind.



Well done. The atmosphere of tension is excellent here, I'm completely sucked in.

[LadyDamodred]

I believe the word would be 'lewdness', but close enough. XD



And implied Oghren lewdness works so much better than my actual attempts would, so I'm glad you like it. And you think there's tension now...

[Miri1984]

More ominousness . Hooray!

[Lintanis]

"You're the only one for this, Oghren. You were there in the Deep Roads with her. Through the broodmother-" Oghren shuddered. 

 shows how bad the Broodmother was to make Oghren shudder  

[LadyDamodred]

Chapter 29

A dark figure slips through the halls of Gwaren Castle, moving from shadow to shadow in complete silence. Stopping before a large and heavy door, nimble fingers produce a set of lock picking tools and within moments the door is swinging open noiselessly. The figure slips inside and the door swings shut, closing without a sound. Once inside, the figure moves towards the large, elaborate desk. Lock picking tools are used once more to open a drawer, and then again when a hidden panel is moved aside to reveal a document chest.

Carefully, the chest is opened and papers removed one at a time as the figure keeps careful track of the order and placement of the correspondence. Holding the first of the papers carefully, the figure moves towards the window, using the bright light of the moon to see by. For long hours the figure crouches there, out of sight of the window, moving only to return one paper to the desk and retrieve another. Eyes study the words upon the papers, lips moving soundlessly as words are committed to memory. Fingers trace slow patterns in the air, almost as if the person were writing in the air.

When the light begins to change, the figure returns the papers to the chest, locks it, returns the chest to the desk, slides the hidden panel back in place and relocks the desk. The figure moves towards the door, pressing an ear against it to listen. It opens the door and slips out, relocking the door quickly and moving swiftly back the way it had come.

The figure returns the next night, and again every night the moon is both bright enough and visible enough to cast enough light in the room. One night the figure unlocks a different drawer and removes a small metal object. From a hidden pocket, the figure produces a small wooden box. The box is opened to reveal a smooth expanse of wax filling each half. Slowly and carefully, the figure presses the seal into each the wax on both sides several times. It examines the impressions made and finally nods in satisfaction. A soft cloth carefully cleans the seal and replaces it exactly as it was, and the wooden box is closed carefully and returned to the hidden pocket.

Over the months, the figure returns and spends silent hours looking and reading. Eventually, the figure brings its own papers and holds them carefully next to the ones that are always kept locked in the desk. Eyes dart between the two, comparing, and the figure smiles.

***

Alistair looked down at the papers in front of him and sighed heavily. He rested his elbows on the edge of the table and let his head fall into his hands to rest. There were quiet footsteps behind him, and then Lya's hands slid underneath his vest to rub his shoulders through the heavy material of his shirt. Her strong fingers kneaded and pressed the knotted flesh, and Alistair groaned, half in relief and half in frustration.

"This is bad, Lya. This is really, really bad."

"I know." Her voice was quiet as her hands continued to work on releasing the tension in his shoulders and back. He looked down at the papers again, not really seeing them; not needing to. They all said the same thing: help.

Winter this year had come fast and hard and cold. Alistair couldn't remember a winter that had ever been so harsh and even Eamon struggled to remember the last time it had been so bad. Frost and ice lined the hallways of the palace itself. Rooms were always dark as shutters were kept closed in a futile attempt to keep any more cold from getting in. Most rooms themselves were kept closed and in a few select rooms fires were always kept burning to provide some warmth to the inhabitants. They had had ended up moving things from the study into their apartments so they wouldn't have to keep a separate fire going to get work done. The twins had also been moved into their rooms.

In Denerim, the never-ending snow storms kept everyone inside and streets were nearly deserted. Alistair found it eerie to look outside and see nothing but empty, snow-filled streets. Only smoke rising from chimneys gave any sign that there still life in the city.

Alistair wondered how long he would keep seeing smoke rising from those chimneys. Ferelden was a harsh country, its citizens used to brutal winter weather. But this winter was sapping their will and strength, and most importantly, their supplies of firewood.

Firewood. Of all the problems Alistair had expected that he and Lya would face, that had not been one of them. People were keeping hearths burning high to keep from freezing to death. The result was that supplies of dry hardwood to burn were running low. If push came to shove, people could burn greenwood, but that would be a last resort.

From across Ferelden, and from the Bannorn in particular, came pleas for help and assistance and there was little he could do. They had advised people to conserve their supplies, to combine households so that what they had would last longer. Word had been sent to do the same across the country, but they had no way of knowing how many people heeded the advice.

They knew the elves had responded; they hadn't even waited to take action. Homes in the Alienage were flimsier than in the rest of the city, so the elves were faring far worse than the rest of Denerim's inhabitants. Several houses had already collapsed from the weight of the snow, and while there had been injuries, there were thankfully no deaths. Shianni had told them that the other bright side was that it provided the elves with more fuel to burn. Alistair was doing his best to get the Alienage the supplies it needed, but he feared when spring finally came the toll would be far higher there than in the rest of the city.

Alistair and Lya had also written to Anora when it became clear how hard this winter was going to be. Gwaren was a major source of timber, and they needed whatever help she could give them. She had responded that she would do what she could, but winter was not a good time to log. It was hard to cut down trees when your loggers kept falling into ten foot snow drifts, and only able to work short shifts before frostbite started claiming extremities. Once those challenges were overcome, the wood then had to be dried at least for a bit before it would burn well, and then they had to somehow try and get it across the country. He was thankful that the Blight had prompted improvements to Ferelden's infrastructure, but better roads did little good right now.

Thinking about the Blight and why those improvements had been necessary in the first place caused another worry to force itself into his mind. A series of late storms that autumn had ruined the end of the harvest. Most farm holds had already harvested the bulk of their crops, but about a quarter of this year's harvest was lost. It was a tough break, but at the time it had seemed manageable.

It nagged at Lya though. With the winter so harsh, it was likely spring would arrive late. And once it did, all the snowmelt would leave fields too muddy to plant right away. Harvests would be later that usual at best, too late at worst. Right now, there was enough food. But by the time spring came, reserves would be low and Lya worried that any delay with planting would mean the first harvests would come too late.

She had discussed her concerns with Alistair first and they had decided to renegotiate agreements for grain with Orlais and Nevarra at the beginning of winter rather than waiting until it became necessary. It had been a risk. If they were wrong, and spring came early, then a significant amount of money would be tied up in food supplies they didn't need. But Lya felt it was necessary and Alistair had learned a long time ago to trust her instincts.

That decision, however, had occasioned the first true argument between Lya and Eamon he had ever seen. Eamon felt they were being premature, that they should wait and see what happened. Lya had disagreed vehemently. Tempers were running short, and the discussion quickly flared out of control. For the first time, Alistair had seen Lya pull rank with Eamon and he was forced to jump and play peacemaker before irreparable harm was done. The relationship was still strained between the two and Alistair hoped better weather would also help repair the damage done there.

"What are we going to do?"

Lya sighed behind him. "What we can, Alistair. What we can. There isn't much more that we can do."

"I feel like I'm letting all these people down. They're all depending on me to do the right thing and help them and I have to tell them I can't." He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face wearily. "How do I deal with that? What good am I if I can't save them?"

She leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Stop it," she said firmly. "You are dealing with it, and you are doing the best anyone could ask of you. You have shown yourself to be a good king, a fair king, and they trust you. Everyone knows you will do what you feel is best for Ferelden and I don't expect them to start doubting you now. They will follow you as you see them through this."

"Yeah. Right up until they lynch me."

She laughed. "Well, they'll have to go through me first, so I think you're safe."

"Well, there is that. Hmm, I suppose that makes me feel better." He reached up to capture on of her hands and then slid his own up her arm. Alistair frowned as he realized how cold she felt, even through the sleeve of her shirt. He stood up and turned towards her, noticing not for the first time how tired she looked. "You're cold."

"Well, I do have this nice warm husband to take care of that."

"I'm not joking, Lya." He gave her a little shake. "You need to take care of yourself. I don't care if you have to wrap yourself in blankets to keep warm. Don't run yourself down. I need you too much."

She leaned forward to wrap her arms around him and he pulled her close. "I know, I know," she said. "I am being careful. I just had to get some fresh air. It feels like we've been cooped up in here for weeks." She sighed. "And don't tell me you don't feel the same way. I overheard you asking Kylon if any taverns were open." He grinned crookedly at her and she reached up to tweak his hair. "You need a haircut."

"Mm, not until the spring, I think. It's cheaper and better looking than wearing a hat." He ran a hand through her own dark locks which were nearly to her shoulders. "I could say the same for you."

"Right, well, I've never looked good in hats so I'll just borrow your excuse." He chuckled and lean down to give her a kiss. They broke off reluctantly when the door to their bedchambers opened and Shaye came out. She gave them a small smile.

"The twins?" Lya asked.

"Just fine. They're sleeping now, but they're definitely better. They'll most likely be tired for a few more days while they fully recover." Alistair breathed a sigh of relief. Duncan and Elwyn had come down with something a couple weeks earlier and it had worried both he and Lya. Laying in bed, listening to his children struggle to breathe was the most agonizing thing he had done since waiting for Lya to wake up after killing the Archdemon.

They had been getting better, but it was reassuring to hear that they really were out of the woods. Lya, still in his arms, turned her head to look at Shaye. "How's Wynne doing?"

Shaye frowned slightly. "She's all right," she said slowly. "She is older, and this winter it taking a lot out of her. She seems perfectly healthy, just a touch on the frail side. I'd imagine she'll be fine, however. It's hard to keep that woman down for long." They both let out a rueful chuckle and Shaye grinned. "You know she wouldn't want you wasting time worrying about her. I'll let her know you asked, though. Perhaps if she feels you're coddling her it'll encourage her to prove just how frail she isn't." Shaye yawned. "And now, I am going to bed. I have my own warm husband waiting for me."

"Night, Shaye. Thank you."

"Anytime, your Majesties. I'd suggest you get some sleep as well."

"Understood, Shaye," Lya said dryly. After Shaye closed the door behind her, Lya tugged Alistair towards the bedroom. They stopped for a moment to peer into Duncan and Elwyn's crib. The two were tangled up with each other, tucked in warmly and sound asleep. Quick kisses were brushed across sleeping foreheads and Alistair turned towards the bed. He shot a look at Lya and raised an eyebrow.

"Just how tired are you?"

She bit her lip and gave the crib a quick glance. "Not that tired, but we'll have to be quiet."

"Oh, you mean just like old times back at camp? I think I can manage that."

"Good."

Modifié par LadyDamodred, 11 mai 2010 - 12:25 .

[Miri1984]

Hehe. Twins sleeping at the same time? This IS a fantasy land.



All interested in those documents, now. And was that shadowy figure Zevran? Or someone more sinister? The plot continues to thicken!

[LadyDamodred]

Chapter 30

Winter wore on, and like they had feared, spring was late in coming. It was petty and completely inappropriate, and while she resisted saying "I told you so" to his face, Lya couldn't help the knowing look she gave Eamon when they met to figure out how to dispense the grain and supplies the people would need over the summer. In a way, she also hated being right because it would have been better for the people if she had been wrong.

Sighing, she dipped her pen into the inkwell again. She was going to have to make up with Eamon somehow and sometime soon. They were less effective because of the tension between them and they couldn't afford that right now. Lya knew the older man well enough to know she was going to have to swallow a little bit of her pride and make the first overture. But not today. Today, she had other things to worry about.

The letter before her was nearly finished and she read it over once more before adding a couple lines to the bottom. They hadn't received any word from Orzammar in awhile, and what news they did hear was troubling. What Lya found more troubling was that she hadn't heard from Leliana in over a year.

The bard had thrown herself into the challenge Alistair had given her with all of her customary enthusiasm. She had gone to Orzammar and spent most of her time their investigating and researching, especially with the Legion of the Dead. Her training allowed her to navigate even the dwarven political arena with grace and tact to secure what information and support she needed. Leliana had only returned to Denerim twice since the wedding, but she at least communicated with them, if infrequently.

But they had heard nothing in over a year. Lya had been so busy, so consumed with what she was doing, that it was only a chance comment from Zevran that made her realize how long it had been. And then once she realized that. She had to wait until the weather improved enough to send messengers to Orzammar.

Her letter to Leliana was already finished and sealed, and she read through the official letter to Harrowmont she was writing once more before looking up at Alistair. "How are you letters coming?"

"Slow. No one is happy with the way things are being distributed, everyone thinks they need, not to mention deserve, more. Some of them," he added, picked up a letter and gesturing with it, "are apparently annoyed that we didn't let the elves starve or freeze to death when supplies could have been put to better use elsewhere. Rubbing his forehead wearily, he looked back down at the missive he was working on. "I'm glad the Landsmeet is later this year than usual. It'll give everyone more time to get a better grasp on what the situation is, and that, hopefully, will alleviate some concerns."

"Things are still probably going to be tense. We should probably arrange to meet in private with those of the Bannorn who are the unhappiest." Lya shook her head. "I can't say I agree with where they're coming from, but I do understand it. We're going to have to be careful in exactly how much we promise, but listening won't cost us anything." Sliding her letter across the table to Alistair, she said, "Here, how does this read to you?" He set aside his own letter to Arl Wulff to look it over.

"Looks good to me. You would think we would hear more from him, you know."

"I know, and it worries me," she admitted. "The last time we heard from Leliana, she mentioned the problems he was having. I would have to assume they've only gotten worse, which isn't good." She frowned. "I told him he needed to be a strong king. If he had put his foot down when he took the throne, this wouldn't be happening."

"You can't run his kingdom for him, Lya," Alistair said gently. "He has to do what he feels is best. I'm inclined to agree though. Not that I know all that much about this king business," he said, dodging the piece of scrap paper she tossed at him, "but being more firm when he started probably would have helped." He made a face. "And that was before the First Divine got her knickers in a twist over the whole Burkel situation."

"Oh, I know!" she cried. "What a mess! Andraste's flaming sword, I don't think I've ever wanted dwarves to be more like Oghren than when that happened. He's willing to let things he doesn't care about pass by. I don't know why everything down there has to be so cutthroat and bloodthirsty."

Alistair looked slightly askance at his wife. "Yes, says the woman who learned all those berserker techniques from Oghren." She waved his words off.

"That's in battle. They don't have to do everything that way."

"I don't think they see any difference, love. Fighting, with words or blades, seems to be how they do everything."
"You're probably right. I don't know why I keep hoping things will be different or change."

He laughed. "It's the eternal optimist in you, my dear. Don't worry about it. There's nothing you can do about it, unless you want to go and cow the Assembly into doing what you want again."

"Pass."

"I thought as much." He paused. "Although, if these rumors about an Exalted March are true…."

Lya shuddered slightly. "Let's not borrow trouble. I can't believe the First Divine is that foolish. The dwarves are our first line of defense against the darkspawn. She wouldn't really, would she?" She groaned. "Who am I kidding? Maybe we can write her a letter or something."

"Oooh, yes, because that will go over so well. 'Hello, your Reverence. How are you? Lovely weather we're having. This is the King and Queen of Ferelden. You know, the ex-templar and the woman who convinced him to divulge all those Chantry secrets. Also the monarchs who gave the mages more freedom. We heard you were planning to slaughter the dwarves and we would really appreciate if you didn't. We sort of need them to keep the darkspawn in check so they don't overrun all of Thedas. Thanks!' Oh yes, I'm sure that will go over well."

Lya shook her head ruefully. "Yes, I suppose that would go over poorly. I guess there isn't much we can do besides wait and see." She held out a hand and he passed the letter back over for her to sign and seal. There was a knock on the door as she was sliding the missives into a larger envelope and it opened to reveal Zevran and a guard.

The guard bowed to Alistair and Lya. "Greetings, your Majesties. I've just arrived from Highever. Teyrn Fergus asked me to bring you these." He extended a satchel to Lya.

Rising, she took the bundle from him and cleared a spot on the table to lay it down. "How was the journey from Highever?"

"Slow going, your Majesty. Sections of the road are still washed out, but it's still passable. Travel is just slower at the moment." She nodded as she opened the satchel to remove the contents.

"Is everything all right in Highever?"

"Yes, your Majesty. The winter was hard, but we've come through it just fine. The teyrn wanted this to get to you as soon as possible, though, since he will be unable to leave the teyrnir for awhile."

"Of course. He has a lot to do. If you would speak to Captain Kylon, he will find you quarters. And if you don't mind, I would like it if you joined us for dinner. I like to hear whatever I can about Highever."

"I would be most honored, you Majesty." He bowed to each of them in turn and Zevran opened the door to show him out. The contents of the satchel were laid out on the desk now, and there were only two things. A letter, which she broke the seal on quickly, and a sort of case made from two thin, flat sheets of wood connected with tiny hinges and bound with a leather cord. The letter was a standard missive from a teyrn to his king, and she handed it to Alistair as she unwrapped the leather cording from around the wood and opened it.

She gasped softly as she saw what was inside. Carefully placed on one of the sheets of wood was an ink drawing of Fergus, Dara and a very tiny baby. Fergus and Dara looked absolutely radiant with joy and she felt the tears in her eyes. With all that had been going on, it had completely slipped her mind that their child would be born over the winter. She was glad that Fergus had waited and sent the news this way rather than trying to get a rider through during the winter.

A note was pinned to the bottom of the picture. She removed it gently and handed the wooden frame to Alistair and Zevran as she opened it.

Sis,

I just wanted to let you know that everyone is fine, and to show you a picture of your nephew. I know things are busy for you and Alistair right now, but Dara and I would love to have you visit whenever you can. Please, bring Duncan and Elwyn! You can send a message back with Ser Conall, and we look forward to seeing you.

Take care of yourself, and enjoy this drawing of your nephew.

Fergus

P.S. I listened to what you said and didn't name him after you or Alistair. Say hello to Nathaniel Bryce Cousland.

She started to laugh and when Alistair and Zevran looked at her curiously, she extended the note to them. She wondered how their friend would like having a namesake. When the men were done looking at the paper, she took the drawing back for another look, and then glanced at Alistair.

He looked at her speculatively. "Later this summer after the Landsmeet, you think? The twins will be almost two by then and I think it'd be safe to travel. Besides, it would be good to get away for a little while and take a break."

"Traveling on the road with toddlers, eh?" Zevran grinned at them. "That sounds like a more difficult adventure than anything we attempted. I am sure you will have lots of fun."

Lya gave him a guileless look. "Oh, but you'll be coming, too, Zev. We couldn't possibly think of leaving you here all by yourself to get lonely. Besides, I think we all feel safer when you're with us."

He opened his mouth the retort and then laughed ruefully. "Ah, 'tis true. You have me there, my Grey Warden. Very well, I shall accompany you. But let me say that I do not think I get paid nearly enough for the some of the things you ask of me. I think before we go anywhere we need to renegotiate my fee."

"I think we can arrange that." She ran a finger over the drawing and smiled. She had only been back to Highever once since the Blight ended, and it had been very, very hard. The thought of going back to Highever, this time surrounded by friends and family, and being able to make good memories to help erase the bad ones, was wonderful.

***

Osric looked at the papers before him and smiled. Things were coming along nicely, very nicely. All reports out of Ferelden and Orlais were favorable and they were so very close to being able to proceed with the next step. It was as if the Maker Himself were smiling upon and blessing Osric's efforts.

The latest report from Orlais had put to rest some of his concerns. He had not been exactly pleased when Celene had allowed the Fereldans to purchase grain and supplies, but her reasoning was very logical. With relations between the two countries improving, it would have been highly suspicious for her not to trade. And neither one wanted the populace starving. He just disliked that it strengthened Lya and Alistair's positions.

Another loose end had also been tied up in Val Royeaux, and he has stressed to Celene the importance of keeping that end hidden. It was vital that no word of it reached Ferelden. The Empress assured him that it was taken care of, and he knew she was smart enough not to botch it.

The report also showed troop numbers reaching the desired levels. As soon as they were both convinced they had the numbers they needed, they would have to begin moving them carefully. At that critical juncture, it was vital information be tightly controlled and suspicion and rumors kept to a minimum.

Soon, he thought. Very soon it would all come together and the Grey Wardens would once again have the power they needed to combat their ancient foe.

[Sandtigress]

Boo, I was all happy and laughing at Alistair's "letter" to the First Divine and baby Nathaniel and then Osric had to go ruin it all! Boo hiss at Osric!! So he's plotting with Celene now? And this loose end in Val Royeaux.....worrisome!

[Arassi]

Okay, I'm only on chapter 11, but I have to say, I'm REALLY enjoying this. Especially Chapter 9 and the whole she's gonna smack you up alongside the head speach. Priceless!

[Arassi]

I'm caught up now... Great story!

[LadyDamodred]

Hey, all. I've been updating on a M/W/F schedule, but I just wanted to let you know updating will slow down a bit. This section is tricky in particular and I want to be careful with it. While, eventually sometime in the future I will most likely go back and rewrite some of what I'm unhappy with, I want to do these upcoming chapters right the first time. Thank you for sticking with me and for your kind comments. I truly appreciate it.
________________________________________________________________________________________


Chapter 31

Lya threw back the blankets in disgust. It wasn't unusual for her to be up late, but tonight she had tossed and turned all night, unable to get to sleep at all. Even Alistair's solid presence hadn't been enough to keep her asleep for more than an hour or so. She looked out the window; it was still dark out, the first light of dawn not even a glimmer on the horizon. Well, if sleep was going to prove elusive, she should at least make herself useful.

She removed a simple dress hanging in the wardrobe and dressed quickly. She wondered wryly if the staff ever gossiped about the fact that their queen almost never wore nightgowns to bed. She dug a pair of soft leather shoes out from under a chair and slipped them on, then leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Alistair's cheek before leaving. Golanth rolled over in front of the fireplace as she passed by and she crouched to scratch his tummy. He wagged his stubby tail in appreciation. "Go back to sleep, boy," she whispered. "You and the twins can go play in the garden in the morning if it's warm enough." His tongue lolled out and he whined softly in agreement. Giving his stomach one last pat, she watched him curl back up and slipped out the door.

She nodded to the two guards standing outside the door and informed them she would be in the study. They nodded in reply and remained at their post. The study was at the end of the hall and they didn't need to walk her to the door.

She ducked briefly into Duncan's and Elwyn's room. She gave each one a few kisses and smoothed their hair. They had turned two several months ago and she marveled at how big they were getting. Their vocabulary had exploded in the last few months, and they were full of questions. And they were becoming little people; developing their own personalities and the differences between the two were starting to emerge. Elwyn was by far the more stubborn of the two, and Lya could already foresee the battles that were going to be fought there. She wondered if she had been like that as a child, and wished her parents were still there. Maybe she could ask Fergus.

The hallway was empty as she walked to the study, which wasn't very surprising. At this hour, anyone in their right mind would be tucked into a snug bed. The study was dark and cool. Using a striker on the desk, she quickly lit a lamp and pondered the cold hearth. No, she didn't feel like starting a fire right now. Winter though it was, she wasn't cold enough to put the effort in that a fire would require.

She settled into her chair, kicking her shoes off underneath the desk and curling her feet under her. Her hands moved indecisively for a moment before opening a drawer. Harrowmont had finally responded to her inquiries about Leliana. Her friend had left Orzammar nearly a year and a half earlier and hadn't returned since. The dwarven king had finally sent someone to ask the Legion of the Dead if they knew anything, and had been told that she had left one day and promised to return before too long.

And that was the last anyone had heard or seen from Leliana. Lya knew Leliana could take care of herself, but her absence and lack of communication was worrying. She looked over the letter and wondered again if she should send someone herself to Orzammar to ask. It was quite possible Leliana had told someone where she was going and Harrowmont simply hadn't dug around enough to find out. Nodding, she removed some parchment from the desk. Tomorrow she would ask Zevran to send one of his people. A short letter would have to be drafted, though, to both Harrowmont and the Legion. She could do that now.

The finishing touches were being added when a slight sound at the door made Lya look up. One of the elven servants had poked her head into the room and was looking around.

"Can I help you?" The woman started and dropped into an immediate curtsey.

"I-I apologize, your Majesty! I was coming up to get started cleaning some of the unused rooms and noticed the door was open, so I thought I would check. I mean, your study is due for a cleaning, and it's so hard to get it done during the day that I thought maybe I would see who it was and if I could do it now. I'm so sorry to have disturbed you!"

"There's no need to apologize. You're not disturbing me at all." Lya gestured to the desk in front of her. "I'm just working on a few things here. If you need to do anything, don't let my presence stop you."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Please, it's all right…. I'm sorry; I don't know your name."

"It's Selia, your Majesty." The elf was still looking at the floor, speaking in a voice not much more than a whisper. If there was anything Lya hated about being queen, it was this. What she wouldn't give to have servants like she had grown up with in Highever.

"Thank you, Selia. If you need to get work done, please just do it. I suspect it'll be easier on both of us in the long run." She smiled at the woman, hoping to ease her anxiety. The elf's eyes glanced up at her quickly before looking back down. She bobbed her head quickly.

"O-Of course, your Majesty. I will be as quick as I can, I promise." Lya nodded and turned her attention back to her papers as Selia set her basket down and began removing soft cloths and polish. Selia was indeed quiet as she went about her work, and Lya found herself quite able to ignore any sounds the woman made as she cleaned.

The sound of breaking glass caused her head to jerk up and look over her shoulder towards the maid. Selia stood before a case with a small pile of broken glass that had moments ago been a small vase on the floor before her. The maid looked horrified. "Oh! Oh, your Majesty, I'm so sorry!"

Lya sighed almost inaudibly and unfolded herself from her chair. She reached down beside the desk to pick up the small waste basket and walked over to the maid, mindful of her bare feet. Dropping to one knee, she reached for a larger piece of glass and dropped it in the basket.

"Oh, please, your Majesty, you don't have to do that!" the woman protested.

"Nonsense," Lya replied. "Let's just get the big pieces cleaned up and then you can find a dustpan to deal with the smaller fragments, and we can both get back to work."

"Your Majesty is too kind," the elf murmured as she knelt beside her. As Lya reached for another shard of glass, she felt a stabbing pain in her arm. Her eyes flew to the elf who was calmly replacing a tiny dagger into a small belt pouch at her waist. She tried to call out, but lethargy was spreading over her, robbing her limbs of strength and taking away her ability to speak. The elf reached over to guide her to the floor, and as the world faded around her, she heard the elf say, "Much too kind."

Modifié par LadyDamodred, 15 mai 2010 - 01:27 .

[Miri1984]

Oh no! No no! Can't really say anything else but that....

[Sandtigress]

I KNEW IT! As soon as the elf dropped the vase, I knew she was trouble!! And this explains what you did to make Alistair so very mad. Come on King Alistair!

[Lintanis]

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Wish this was a completed story , the waiting for chapters lol, its like waiting for a fix. Excellent Story cant wait for next chapter

[LadyDamodred]

Just a quick check to make sure the pacing still seems fine to you. Trying to strike the right balance between emotions is a little tricky in this section. Please let me know what you think works and doesnt work.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 32

Pale, early winter light was streaming through the windows when Alistair awoke. He stretched slightly and rolled over to snuggle with Lya for a little bit before he had to get up. When his arms encountered only an expanse of sheets, however, he opened his eyes and looked around. Lya wasn't there, and the sheets and blankets were cool. She had been up for awhile then. He threw back the covers and got up, wondering where she had gone. She wasn't a morning person and so he was usually up before her.

He threw on a set of clothes, yawning, and tugged his boots on. He would check in their study on his way down to the baths. Whenever she woke up early, that was inevitably where she ended up. There or with the twins. As he left his rooms, he poked his head into their room and was immediately greeted by two voices crying "Daddy!" He laughed and swept his children up in his arms, giving each a kiss before setting them back down. Liadan, who had been trying to get them dressed before he came in, stood up as he entered.

"Sorry," he apologized. "But have you seen Lya?"

"No, your Majesty," the petite elf replied. "She usually comes in a bit after I do, but she hasn't stopped in yet this morning. I am expecting her shortly, though, since she usually comes in around this time." She paused for a moment, looking uncertain. "Should I not be getting the children up?"

"No, no, I was just wondering that's all. Thank you." The study, then. He gave the twins another kiss and left the room. He opened the door to the study and was halfway through a greeting before he realized the room was empty. A frown pulled his brows together as he looked around the room. This was…odd. Turning to leave, he stopped abruptly as something caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye, and he moved towards the desk.

The bright morning sun caused the little slivers of glass on the floor to glitter, which is what had caught his attention. He crouched down to look closer. Someone had dropped something and had cleaned up, but hadn't gotten everything. Since it hadn't been there yesterday that meant someone had been in here. A tingle of something went through him and he rubbed the back of his neck, not surprised to find the hair standing on end. The frown on his face deepened and he turned, searching for anything else that seemed out of place. His heart gave a little lurch and a sick feeling started to crawl through his gut when he spied Lya's shoes under the desk.

They were the old, comfortable ones she wore when they were going to be alone, and she had the habit of kicking them off so she could pull her feet up on the chair. He reached under and pulled them out, before dropping them to the floor and standing in a swift motion. This was wrong. A bit of broken glass and a pair of shoes were nothing; there could be a dozen explanations. But he had learned long ago to trust his feelings and right now everything in him was screaming out a warning.

Alistair started to stride from the room, but stopped short just before the door. He needed to be calm, to ignore the panic ripping through his mind and focus. A deep breath, a quick run through of a templar exercise, and he at least looked in control.

He walked down the hall and stopped before the two guards that always stood outside their rooms. "Have you seen the queen this morning?" he asked them.

"No, your Majesty," the older guard said. "You were the only person we've seen since our shift began at dawn." Alistair felt his mouth go dry. If Lya had left their rooms before dawn, if she had left before the guards had changed….

"The men you relieved didn't say anything about seeing her leave?"

"No, sire," the guard replied cautiously. "They didn't say anything."

The panic solidified into a feeling of dread and fell like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard and jerked open the door to his rooms. Duncan's sword was propped in the corner of his bedroom, next to Starfang. Neither he nor Lya had ever felt comfortable not having a weapon nearby and so these were always kept in their rooms. He slid the harness over his shoulder and hesitated only a split second before doing the same with Lya's sword.

The guards started at his appearance as he left his rooms once more. Not even bothering to look at them, he snapped, "Stay here!" Turning, he entered his children's room. Liadan's eyes opened wide as he entered, armed and grim-faced. "Your Majesty!" she gasped, but he ignored her for the moment. Elwyn was the closest to him, and he picked her up, holding her close.

"Pick up Duncan and come with me," he said tersely. She stared at him for a minute and then scrambled the gather Duncan in her arms. Zevran's rooms weren't far, but Alistair didn't draw a deep breath until they got there. He threw open the door and gestured for Liadan to enter, which she did with alacrity. Alistair followed, pulling the door shut firmly behind him.

"Alistair. To what do I owe-" Zevran stopped mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him. The look on Alistair's face made his eyes widen. "What's happened?"

"She's missing." Alistair's voice was low and controlled, but there was no disguising both the fury and terror in it. There was no doubt as to who "she" was. "I want people here now. I am not leaving my children here until I know for damned sure that they'll be safe."

Zevran slid from the bed and into the clothes on the floor beside in nearly a single fluid motion. "Dae!"

Daevanya was already doing the same on her side of the bed. "On it!" she said sharply as she bolted out the door. Zevran moved quickly the armor stand in the corner of the room and began buckling his leathers on. He watched Alistair as he did, trying to gauge his friend's state.

Alistair was standing just as he was when he entered the room. He was very still, holding his daughter cradled against his chest, her dark head tucked below his chin. At first glance, he appeared calm, but Zevran knew him better than that. His breathing was too rapid, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths. And his eyes were a little too wide, a little too wild.

Zevran was buckling his swords on when Daevanya returned, Shayelyn and Kaden on her heels. Closing the door, she turned to Zevran. "The others in the palace are coming, and I took the liberty of sending someone for Wynne and Eamon." Zevran nodded.

"Good. Once others are here, I would prefer to move to your rooms, Alistair." The king nodded once, sharply. Shaye approached him cautiously and held out her arms to take Elwyn from him.

"Let me take her, Alistair." He fixed his eyes on hers sharply and tightened his hold on his daughter slightly. Shaye's eyes softened with concern. "Please, Alistair. I won't hurt her, you know that. She and Duncan will be safe with us, I promise," she said gently.

Slowly, reluctantly, Alistair let Shaye gather Elwyn into her arms. He knew her, trusted her implicitly; she would never hurt his children. But even so, he couldn't stop the tingle of uncertainty as she removed his daughter from his arms. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from snatching Elwyn back from her.

There was a brisk knock at the door, and Zevran eased it open to see Wynne and Eamon looking harried and confused. He opened the door to usher them in. As they entered, both sought out Alistair and Wynne was the first to speak.

"Alistair, what in the Maker's name is going on?"

He took a deep breath to steady himself and met her clear blue eyes. After throwing a hesitant glance at his children, he said quietly. "Lya's missing."

"Missing?" Eamon looked slightly askance. "That's absurd."

"Are you sure?" Wynne asked.

"No, actually, I'm not sure, and we need to find out. But…." The thought he had in the study returned. "Something is wrong, Wynne. And I'm not taking any chances until I find out what it is." He quickly ran through what had happened since he woke up, and then rubbed his eyes as he tried to think. "We're going back to our rooms. I'll feel safer with the twins there. And when we get there, I want the palace sealed until she's found. Also, the Royal Guard is being relieved of duty."

"Alistair," Eamon said slowly, "do you realize what you're saying? Sealing the palace will be a massive undertaking. And relieving the Guard will leave you unprotected."

"I didn't notice them doing a terribly good job of that this morning, Eamon. My wife is apparently missing, and the people that are supposed to keep that from happening are either incompetent or lying to me."

"And so you will leave yourself, and your children, unguarded? And who will seal the palace?"

"They will not be left unguarded." He looked over at Zevran. "You will do whatever is necessary to protect them."

Zevran's brows lifted slightly. Very, very rarely did Alistair issue commands to him, and never like this. He crossed his arms and saluted. "I swear it, your Majesty."

Alistair nodded and turned back to Eamon. "And as far as sealing the palace and having protection in place goes, I do believe that's why I have an army."

Eamon gaped at him. "You're going to call the army into the city like this? I must protest. Such an action-"

"Eamon," Alistair said through clenched teeth, cutting him off. He stopped and forced himself to relax, to keep hold of the focus that was keeping him together. "This is not a discussion; it is not open to debate. I am not asking your permission. I am telling you what I am going to order so that you can do your job. Am I understood?"

For a moment, Eamon just looked at Alistair, and then he drew himself up and bowed to Alistair more deeply and more formally than he ever had before. "Yes, your Majesty. I await your command."

"Good." Alistair looked over to Zevran and Kade. "When we get to my rooms, I want the guards relieved of their weapons and watched until they can be put somewhere. Then I need someone to get Kylon. He is the sole member of the Guard that I want to remain."

"I'll get him, your Majesty," Daevanya volunteered. "I will also let the others know that they're to try and keep people inside the palace."

"Thank you." With a deep breath and final look at the others, he opened the door, fervently hoping he was overreacting.

Modifié par LadyDamodred, 17 mai 2010 - 08:26 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

OH MY! I knew that elf was bad news, the dropped vase... I felt like I was watching a horror movie. Don't go in the basement! Don't go near that elf!



I have to say Alistair commanding Eamon is soooo sexy! I am loving this! As always (even if I am a very bad person and don't always tell you so, sorry).

[Sandtigress]

King Alistair! *swoons*



Seems like your pacing is fine to me, in this chapter and the last. Keep going!

[LadyDamodred]

Obviously not.

[Miri1984]

MMmm. I suspected a poisoning, not a drugging. Very, very interesting! I wonder what that evil man is going to do with her!



And I add my voice to Gil's and Sandtigress' - Commanding Alistair = Sexy Alistair. Yum.

[7th_Phoenix]

I read a few lines of the last chapter, and I'm interested now. I have a lot of catching up.

[LadyDamodred]

I do hope you are enjoying it. Most of it has been lots of fun to write.



7th: there is a fair amount of fluff in the story as well, but it's all in good natured fun. The part of the story we have entered now is decidedly fluff-less.

[Gilgamesh1138]

No Alicorns? : (