The Couslands Diabolical Plot
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.
After Anastasia Cousland managed to escape the parade that was being held in her honor, she and her long-presumed dead older brother finally got a chance to sit and talk in private.
"Who would have thought?" Fergus grinned. "My little sister: the new Queen of Ferelden."
Anastasia made a face. "Technically, I'm the 'Princess-Consort'," she pointed out.
"Maybe," Fergus acknowledged. "But if anyone calls you that, you can always have them killed."
"Fergus!" Anastasia exclaimed, scandalized.
"Well, you can," Fergus insisted, unrepentant. "Even ignoring the fact that you have a former Antivan Crow at your beck and call, your soon-to-be husband seems nice enough but he didn't really strike me as a strong leader."
"I had a chance to do something about that once," Anastasia confided. "He'd been looking for the woman who might have been his sister – he's convinced his mother was a random maid from Arl Eamon's estate but I've heard some strange things about some Orlesian elven mage Grey Warden named Fiona but for the sake of not causing a scandal I'm not going to publicize that – and when he found her, she was…not what he expected. She resented his birth as apparently her mother died in childbirth and left her destitute. Alistair made me hand over fifteen Sovereigns to her and she couldn't even act grateful! She wasn't even grateful when Alistair stopped by yesterday to move her into a much nicer apartment…"
"Yes, you'd best keep that conspiracy theory a secret," Fergus agreed. "I think 'Grey Warden' would be just about the only thing to NOT possibly invalidate his claim to the throne. But what happened with his maybe sister?"
"Alistair was feeling pretty down because he'd built up this idealized version of Goldanna because he'd never really had a family and when it all came crashing down on him…I knew that I could make him stronger but what I would have had to say…" Anastasia trailed off, shaking her head. "It would have felt too much like kicking a puppy, you know?"
"If you say so," Fergus said dubiously. "That only explains why you didn't change him when you knew him. What I'm having difficulty in believing is that he was so...unresolved to begin with."
"Well," Anastasia began slowly. "Despite the fact that he'd been a Grey Warden for six months and I'd been one for all of maybe a week – most of that time I was unconscious, by the way – he insisted on putting me in charge because he couldn't decide which of our old allies we should go call on first."
"This was right after Ostagar, right?" Fergus reasoned. "I heard he lost his father figure and Cailan was his half-brother; it's understandable he wouldn't be up to taking the lead just then."
"And I had just lost practically everyone close it me the week before that and had no idea if you were even alive," Anastasia countered, crossing her arms.
"Some people handle tragedy better than others," Fergus said, nodding sagely.
"A year later he was still having me make all the important decisions." Anastasia paused. "And all the non-important ones, for that matter."
"And some people really don't handle tragedy well," Fergus reiterated.
Anastasia rolled her eyes. "It figures you'd be sympathetic. It took you a whole year to let anyone know you were even alive, if I remember correctly. Compared to that, Alistair's the poster child for dealing with disaster."
"I'll have you know that I was gravely wounded," Fergus sniffed, faux-offended.
"So were Alistair and I," Anastasia shot back. "Which is why it took him a few days to recover and why I was out of commission for a week. Then again, we did have the Flemeth treating us and she's got to be more skilled than your average Chasind."
"See?" Fergus asked smugly. "It's perfectly reasonable."
"Still, though, a YEAR?" Anastasia said again. "And you don't even seem to have any remaining injuries. What, did you go from 'couldn't move' to 'fully healed' with no stage in between?"
"…Yes," Fergus claimed.
"Right," Anastasia said, skepticism dripping from her tone. "You know, I understand why, as a candidate for the throne, Alistair needed me to take charge at the Landsmeet, but then he put me in charge of all of the armies. I ask you: what do I know about leading armies?"
"Clearly enough since you made I through the Battle of Denerim with negligible losses," Fergus responded. To his surprise, his sister coughed awkwardly at that.
"That's actually because only a fraction of the army was available to me. I assure you, the fifty Dalish elves, fifty dwarves, fifty of the Arl's men, and twelve mages I had to work with all quickly became dragon food," Anastasia admitted sheepishly, reddening a little.
Fergus was silent for a moment. "Well, at least you won," he said finally.
Anastasia nodded. "Yes, those conveniently placed ballista certainly were a lifesaver," she agreed wryly. "Not to mention that I have some dragon-slaying experience that proved invaluable."
Fergus inspected her armor critically. "I thought that armor of yours looked like Dragon scale. Very nice."
"Thanks," Anastasia beamed. Some might say she was overly fond of her armor, but the truth of the matter was she was nowhere near as fond of that as she was of her precious Starfang. "I got it from a borderline holy dragon named Andraste while I was looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes."
"Okay, seriously, one of these days you are going to have to just set aside a couple of hours and tell me what in Andraste's name you did in the year between Ostagar and stopping the Blight," Fergus said flatly.
"I'm not sure your poor heart could take it," Anastasia said innocently.
Fergus rolled his eyes. "Your concern is touching but I'll be fine. So anyway, we're agreed that Alistair, for whatever reason, really isn't much of a leader."
Anastasia nodded. "The reason itself isn't much of a mystery, really. Eamon made certain that Alistair knew that – despite his heritage – he was still a commoner and wasn't to start a rebellion. Making him disinclined to actually want anything to do with politics or the throne just made a rebellion that much less likely."
"A commoner, huh?" Fergus laughed. "I see that worked out well."
Anastasia shrugged. "What can I say? Eamon really seems to hate Anora."
"Do you?" Fergus wondered. "You did depose her, after all."
"Me?" Anastasia asked, surprised. "No, she's fine. She kind of hates me, though."
"Who could possibly hate you?" Fergus demanded, his big brother side asserting itself.
Anastasia snorted. "Anora, for one. Not that I blame her. I promised her I wouldn't kill her father and would support her bid for the throne and then turned around and did just the opposite. I killed Loghain myself despite Riordan proposing a viable alternative and made myself Alistair's Queen. She really would have been better off if she'd kept trying to reason with her father."
"Whatever happened to Anora anyway?" Fergus wondered. "I didn't hear anything about her being executed."
"She wasn't," Anastasia confirmed. "Alistair didn't even want to lock her up, but Eamon was calling for her blood and I convinced Alistair he had to do something. His biggest problems is that he was always treated like a dirty little secret and once Isolde of the unbelievably annoying voice and common sense comparable to Jowan had decided she couldn't put up with someone who could potentially be Eamon's son – even though she hadn't even been in the picture when he was born – Alistair was sent off to the Chantry where he was apparently also ostracized. Because of that, he never wants to hurt or upset anyone. Ever."
"Except Loghain," Fergus amended, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Except Loghain," Anastasia allowed. "But I think that's more survivor's guilt than anything. Really, I shouldn't have killed Loghain just to appease Alistair, but if I hadn't then I never would have managed to become his Queen."
Fergus pretended to shiver. "Cold, little sister. Very cold."
Anastasia shrugged. "What can I say? The new King of Orzammar and I had a most enlightening discussion about politics and if there is, in fact, such a thing as going too far."
"Didn't you say he arranged the death of his two older siblings?" Fergus asked, alarmed.
"I'm quite sure I said nothing of the sort," Anastasia sniffed. "He was suspected but there was no proof and if he did it would have only been because it was politically expedient."
Fergus groaned. "Am I going to have to start looking over my shoulder anytime you're around? Or maybe just in general, given your friendship with that assassin?"
"That depends on if you think I honestly have the time to be the Teryna of Gwaren, de facto Teryna of Ferelden, AND Teryn of Highever," Anastasia told him seriously. "Not to mention whether you think Avernus will come through for me and find a way for Alistair and I to have a child together."
"Okay, you're starting to scare me," Fergus said warily.
A slow smile spread across Anastasia's lips. "Well, you deserve it for even thinking of asking me that! Honestly."
"That does, strangely enough, bring me back to my original point, you know," Fergus noted. "I am the Teryn of Highever, you are the Teryna of Gwaren, you might as well be the Teryna of Ferelden, and – aside from Eamon – you are pretty much assured to rule Ferelden single-handedly. That's quite a bit of power, don't you think?"
"I suppose so," Anastasia agreed. "I didn't really mean for it to work out that way, it's just that Alistair asked me in front of everyone what boon I wanted and refusing would be in bad taste. Alistair is a Grey Warden as well and almost as idealistic as Wynne is about the Order so I knew he wouldn't let the Warden's sacrifice be forgotten again. I also knew he was planning on taking Howe's lands and I didn't want to seem petty, so any action against the Howes was out. Becoming Chancellor, while it would certainly get Eamon out of the way, seemed a bit redundant given my status as Queen. Therefore, since I knew the teyrnir of Gwaren was suddenly without a holder or heirs, why not take that? It's not like I wasn't raised with the possibility of having to run one one day."
"You won't have much time to see to it personally," Fergus pointed out.
"So I'll delegate," Anastasia said dismissively. "That's what Loghain did during his last year as Teryn."
"It's kind of strange, don't you think?" Fergus mused. "We were easily the most powerful family in Ferelden save the royal family and we had Highever. Then Howe nearly wiped us out and now we've married into royalty and gained both the throne and the other teyrnir."
"What can I say?" Anastasia asked rhetorically. "We're awesome."
"That we are," Fergus agreed. "But still, this isn't the type of thing that one expects to happen when one's family line is almost completely wiped out."
"What, having control of basically all of Ferelden?" Anastasia grinned.
"Precisely," Fergus nodded, frowning. "And it's not like it was really overly planned out, either. I inherit Highever because Father is dead, you're a little busy with your own territories, and you violently murdered that traitor, Howe. You're the Queen because you fell in love with the man Eamon intended to put forth as King and realized Anora would probably try to have him killed if she kept her throne. You're the Teryna of Gwaren because you couldn't think of a less extravagant but not completely worthless reward. We've come into all of this more or less by accident, wouldn't you agree?"
"Maybe," Anastasia conceded. "But don't tell people that. Seriously, we've got a reputation here. And now, we've finally avenged ourselves against Calenhad for forcing us to accept him as our monarch by practically stealing the throne from his sole descendent!" With that, she began an evil laugh.
"That was centuries ago!" Fergus objected.
"I'm failing to see your point," Anastasia informed him.
"You know, you may be the Hero of Ferelden, Teryna of Gwaren, and the Queen, but you're still such a child," Fergus smirked.
Naturally, Anastasia had little choice but to stick her tongue out at him.
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