AN: This story was inspired by the fic "The Not So Old Man and the Sea Monster" by Crisium. I wrote it today while foolishly waiting for my save data to load so I could play Awakening again before DA2 comes out. I will fix typos shortly. Spot the POTC reference.
He was hot, smelly and several different measures of exhausted. The seas off of the Denerim coast were particularly unforgiving this time of year. The pirates he had traveled with were not at all fazed by his most menacing glares (even with the dashing scar he had acquired across one eye) and forced him to take position at the rigging to help get them through the difficult wind and waters to port. He hadn't been forced to do such menial work in years, but despite the exhaustion, he felt more alive than he had in years.
After a stop at the Pearl to drop off the pirate's loot and a bath and shave, he took leave of the captain with thanks for bringing him home. The captain, who had several menacing scars of his own, dismissed the thanks with a wave of his hand before turning his attention back to the whore on his lap.
The streets were particularly quiet, he discovered as he walked up to the market district to off load his extra equipment. He tried to eavesdrop on some of the conversations, but as stealth had never been his strong suit, all he could hear was that there were darkspawn in the south and acting regent Loghain was doing little to stop them in favour of building an army to defend against Orlais. What ever had happened while he was gone?
Having most recently been in a position to hear all the latest Orlesian gossip, he knew Orlais had no current ambitions to take back Ferelden. 'Good riddance' he thought, kicking a crate for good measure. A nearby dwarf sent him a nasty glare, which he returned with a snarl. The dwarf visibly shrank and went back to sorting through his goods, while keeping a wary eye out. 'So, I still got it' he thought, adjusting the hood of his cloak to create an even more dramatic shadow across his face.
Tired of walking and desperate for news, he decided to sneak into the royal palace to find out what was really going on. This was made difficult by the presence of a guard belonging to nearly every noble house in Ferelden. He sat thoughtfully on a rooftop, idly munching on some cheese he had stolen from the pirate captain and watched the guard rotation before seeing an opening and entering through a secret entrance in the garden.
The servants seemed particularly eager to gossip amongst themselves, which mildly appalled him (what kind of ruler was Loghain if he did not have a firm handle on his castle?), but provided him at last with the necessary facts. Arl Eamon had called a Landsmeet to challenge Loghain's regency and call for a new King. He scoffed, but made his way to the assembly room to view the proceedings; the whole event could prove very amusing.
He hid himself behind a pillar on the upper level that supported the opening to a balcony. He tried to guess at the identities of the nobles from their posterior silhouette, but could only succeed with Bann Alfstanna; the combination of her perfume and hindquarters gave her away. He smirked in amusement and listened in; Arl Eamon was droning on about something or other.
His attention was captured by a large black bird perched in the rafters and was amused to think of the possible symbolism of seeing such a creature at a time such as this. The raven was a trickster, an intelligent creature whose caw was a calling to death. He had always found ravens to be a bit of a good luck charm. Well, except for that time one caused him to fall off his horse.
There was a round of polite applause as Eamon finished speaking, and he added his own out of boredom. Loghain stepped forward, and he found himself emerging slightly from behind the pillar in interest. Loghain always had a silver tongue, and he wondered what the old general would add to offset the charges Eamon had laid.
"A fine performance Eamon, but no one here is taken by it," Loghain said, stepping from the crowd and looking up at Eamon, on his perch on the balcony, with a level of contempt that he remembered fondly. "You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is 'Who will pull the strings?' Ah! And here we have the puppeteer!"
There was a commotion at the entry to the assembly hall, and he strained to look at what the nobles were in a tizzy about. A woman with long dark hair pulled back into a loose plait and dressed for battle led a tall man in silverite armour, a fearsome mabari and a tall golem down the centre of the hall. He had to raise his eyebrows in respect. She knew how to make a grand entrance. With everyone's attention now firmly on the assembly floor, he stepped onto the balcony and approached the railing; he now had an unimpeded view of the whole event, while still in the shadows.
Loghain continued, "Tell us Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops or simply issue their commands through this would be prince?"
Prince? He turned is gaze to the man next to the female Grey Warden and focussed intently on his face (he hated to admit, but his eyes were not as sharp as they once were). The man was tall, with dark blond hair and a familiar visage. Could it be?
"What did they offer you?" Loghain shouted to the Warden and her group, who continued to advance. "How much is the price of Ferelden's honour now?"
The female Warden stopped a few feet from Loghain and replied calmly, "The Blight is the threat here, not Orlais!"
He smiled at her answer, 'Clever girl.'
Bann Alfstanna spoke now, bravely stating "There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear!"
The assembly was growing restless, some vocalizing their affirmation of Bann Alfstanna's testimony. Bann Wulff spoke over the crowd. "The south is fallen Loghain! Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?"
Loghain turned his attention to Wulff and replied, "The Blight is indeed real, Wulff. But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they asked to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?"
'Good point', he thought, 'but surely there is more to Loghain's argument than this?'
"You allowed Rendon Howe to imprison and torture innocents!" The female Warden hissed. The man-who-would-be-prince stepped forward slightly to take the female Warden's hand in his and surprisingly this seemed to dull her anger slightly.
"The Warden speaks truly!" Bann Sighard shouted out. "My son was taken under the cover of night. The things done to him... some of them beyond any healer's skill."
Loghain growled and punched the air beside him, "Howe was responsible for himself! He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life. As must we all. But you know that; you were the one that murdered him. Whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the seneschal. There is no justice in butchering a man in his home."
"Like he butchered my father, the Teryn of Highever, then claimed his title for his own? And is there justice in selling elves to Tevinter? Or sending a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon?" The female Warden spat back.
The knowledge that the Warden was Bryce Cousland's daughter was more interesting to him than Loghain's attempt to justify slavery in Ferelden or contract murder. Young Lady Cousland was a Grey Warden and the bastard prince was keeping her calm; very interesting.
More of the landsmeet were speaking out against Loghain, even the Chantry representative, for Loghain's use of a blood mage and Howe's imprisonment of a templar. The noose was tightening...
He looked up as the side door to the assembly opened, and Anora entered, espousing that her father was no longer the man he once was, and had become a paranoid, desperate for power. He shook his head lightly; such was the fate of many a man if one was not careful.
"This man turned his troops aside and refused to guard your king, my husband, as he fought bravely against the darkspawn." Anora declared, "This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and had me locked away so that I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed if it were not for the Grey Wardens."
He was impressed; the Cousland girl had gained the support of the majority of the nobles as well as Queen Anora. She would be formidable at court and on the battlefield.
Loghain looked towards his daughter before spinning back to face the assembly and proclaimed loudly, "My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before! It has been invaded and lost and won times beyond counting. We Fereldens have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me and we shall defeat even the Blight itself!" Loghain raised his arms in the air and awaited his support.
"The Warden; I'm with the Warden," came a voice from his left. He looked around the room, and noble after noble called out their support for the Grey Warden. He narrowed his eyes at Loghain and slipped back to the hall. He had made his decision. There were no guards in the corridor and he made his way down to and through the door in which Anora had entered and hung back close to the wall. The moment would soon be upon him. His grand entrance.
"I stand by Loghain!" Bann Ceorlic shouted, a lone voice amidst a sea of approval for Cousland's daughter. He had to chuckle to himself. Old Ceorlic had always been over enthusiastic about Loghain, and could hardly be taken seriously.
"The Landsmeet is against you Loghain, step down gracefully," the Grey Warden said, speaking calmly and looking Loghain directly in the eye. He felt his respect for the girl raise even higher.
Loghain raised his clenched fists. "Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orleisian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once Eamon! You cared about us once, before you got too old and fat and content to see what even you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!"
Now was his moment. He cast off his cloak, revealing slightly tarnished silverite armour and a greatsword he had earned with his own blood. The signet ring on his finger gleamed on his bare hands as he pushed easily past the one guard who stood in his path. His voice rung out, clear and deep, reverberating in the full room, "Then let me be your judge, Loghain."
Loghain turned and paled at this sight of him, for once entirely speechless. Anora gasped and back away, nearly tripping on the steps leading up to the throne. His eyes turned to the Grey Warden who dropped on her knees, and took the bastard prince with her, and they both bowed their heads.
The room was filled with silence, only broken by the loud thump of the golem's weight shifting. "Who is this whom it bows to?" The rock creature asked in a gravelly voice that he decided was female, even though he was not sure that golems had genders. The mabari was strangely silent, and followed his mistress' lead and lay upon the stone floor, with his head between his forepaws.
"Rise, Grey Wardens," he said proudly, allowing himself a slight smile at the pair before trying out his menacing scar again and scowled at the assembly. "But where is the respect of the Bannorn?"
Slowly, the rest of the assembly bowed lowed, with Eamon sputtering as he did so, which cause him to laugh. He loved surprises, especially when they knocked people down a peg or two. Once the matter of respect was taken care of, he turned back to Loghain and poked him roughly in the chest. "Your judge is here, have you nothing to say?"
Loghain stuttered for a moment, before catching his words and swallowed. "Your Majesty! Had I known you were alive, I would have never..."
Maric Therin poked his old friend again. "You never looked for me, how were you to know whether I was alive or dead? I was stranded on a Maker-forsaken island a mile long and not much wider. Took a few years, but I got bored of waiting and made my way back to Ferelden and what do I find? Of my two greatest friends, only one is alive. The other, slain in what was most likely a fit of jealousy by the pet Arl of my other friend. That same friend abandoned my son, his King, in a battle against the darkspawn. And then there is my brother-in-law, whom I trusted with the safe keeping of my other son, who is intent on placing that boy on the throne, whatever the cost. Calling a Landsmeet in the middle of a blight, what were you thinking?"
"Loghain could not be trusted Maric!" Eamon shouted, seeming to have gotten his voice back.
Maric's eyes narrowed. "I believe you meant 'your Highness'," and Eamon visibly shrank. Several nobles were looking nervously amongst themselves, and while there was a perverse sort of enjoyment in the situation, Maric had to keep everything under control. He turned once again to Loghain. "Teryn Loghain, for that is what you are at the moment, do you step down from your regency of Ferelden or do you which to challenge?"
Loghain shook his head and stepped away slowly. He did not get far, before one of the palace guards grabbed the general's arm and held him in place. Maric nodded to the guard, recognizing him from years ago. It was good to see a friendly face.
"Now Anora," Maric continued, looking to the quivering girl nearly faint at the head of the room, "do you abdicate from the throne you took in my son's stead?"
She nodded quickly and replied, "Of course my King, the throne is yours." She ran to her father and seemed to shrink behind him. Maric smirked to himself; he was really impressed with the new effect he had on people.
Finally, he turned back to the Grey Wardens. "Lady Cousland, Alistair," he said, allowing a degree of warmth into his voice. "You, who are to defend our country against the Blight. What arms do you need in your task?"
The Cousland girl's eyes lit up and Maric could tell she was restraining herself from jumping forward to give him a hug. Not that he would not appreciate such a gesture, but appearance you know...
Maric once again addressed the Landsmeet, "I, King Maric, declare this Landsmeet over, and urge you to remain in Denerim so that we can bring together a new army to replace that which was destroyed at Ostagar, to end the Blight once and for all. The Grey Warden shall be my new army commander, and she and my son Alistair will lead the final charge against the archdemon. Now go in peace, and pray to the Maker that he have mercy on us in these dark days."
The assembly hall emptied quickly and silently, but Maric was not fooled by their sobriety. News of his miraculous return would soon be spread far and wide and stories would be fabricated as to how he managed it all. If they only knew...
Only the Grey Warden's group, the Mac Tirs and Arl Eamon remained, the latter having left his balcony to walk the main assembly floor towards his King. Maric stopped him with a hand and turned to the young Grey Wardens. "I shall deal with your machinations later, Eamon," he said, now smiling at Lady Cousland and Alistair, "and Loghain, you and your daughter will be held securely here in the palace under locked guard until I have decided what I shall do with you. Be gone."
As they left, Maric stepped forward and placed a hand each on Lady Cousland and Alistair's shoulders, looking them both in the eye. "I am grateful for what you two have done," he said with some feeling. "These are dark times, and you have not shied away from your duty, as you could have, and fled the country. You have remained and sought to unite the country to fight together against the darkspawn. I could not be more proud."
He saw Alistair visibly flinched and looked up to the eyes that were so much like the boy's mother's. "I am sorry Alistair, for everything that you went through. I should have been stronger, and kept you with me; let you know everything. I am ashamed to think that I listened to my advisors over my own heart. Things could have turned out so much worse for my weakness, but you are your mother's son. She would be so proud of you." There were tears in his eyes that matched those in his son's and Maric was moved to embrace the boy. He could see Lady Cousland smiling at them and a feeling of contentment lay over him for the first time in many years.
When he broke the embrace, he gestured for the young people to follow him and he marched up and sat himself lazily on the throne, surveying the empty hall, and the young woman, young man, golem and mabari before him. "Now, you'll need to catch me up on everything I've missed. I should hate to look the fool when I call together the war committee to plan our last stand, as it were. How did two junior Grey Wardens, a golem and a mabari get this far?"
"We had a little more help than that, your Majesty," Lady Cousland replied, looking affectionately at Alistair in a way that eased Maric's heart. The boy was loved.
"Yes, an apostate, a murderous quanari, a crazy ex-Chantry sister, an I'm-not-so-convinced-he-is reformed elvish assassin, a Circle mage and a drunken dwarf berserker complete our party. Though, Amarie has united us into an effective team and has been the real reason that we've gotten this far," Alistair added, once again taking the Cousland girl's hand in his.
Maric smiled wider, "Then tell me everything."
Amarie Cousland smiled in response, "Certainly your Majesty, if you would tell us how you survived and escaped that island to return to us."
Maric smiled, and pulled his stolen brick of cheese from his pack and tore off a chunk. "It is a long story which can be summed up in two words: sea turtles," and he popped the bit of cheese in his mouth and nearly moaned in delight of eating his favourite snack.
Alistair's eyes lit up at this, so Maric offered the brick to the boy, who took a piece gleefully. "You truly are my son," Maric smiled and sat back to hear the tale of what he had missed in his years lost at sea. He listened intently, but his eyes soon drifted back up to the rafter, to see the raven that had perched there take one last look upon them before taking flight.
The Raven was a good omen today, bringing unexpected change and hopefully the birth of a bright future for Ferelden. Maric turned his gaze back to the Grey Wardens, who told their tale in tandem, interjecting playfully into each other's narratives. Yes, there was a bright future there, once the archdemon was defeated, and Maric was glad he was alive to see it come to fruition.