Winter in Ferelden was a serious business, the harsh frost which had retreated to their mountain havens and deep beneath the ground during the blistering heat of the Summer months once more ventured forth, chilling the old and sick. Yet one place that even Winter's firm grasp could not halt the progress and bustle of life was the harbour at Denerim. Ships came in all year and at all times, there was always a few dockhands milling around in expectation for work, a few drunken sailors stumbling back to their ship from one of the cities many taverns. Yet tonight some power had halted even that. For one night, the harbour of Denerim was deserted.
Indeed, it was almost as if someone with the resources and power of the King of Ferelden had arranged for the port to be cleared that night, waiting for something or someone.
Solona shivered as the harsh winter winds of Ferelden bit through the fur of her cloak, remembering fondly the weather in Par Vollen, the all-consuming heat which even boiled the water in the air, making it sticky and thick. She had complained at the time, commenting wryly to Sten that she would never complain about Ferelden weather again. How quickly discomfort makes fools of us, she mused with a sly smile. It had been … interesting, her time with the Qunari warrior in his homeland. Truth be told, Solona would have rather focused her attention in restoring Ferelden in the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, however she knew that Alistair's right to Kingship was somewhat disputed among the people. No, she had decided that her quiet departure for a few months would allow Alistair a time to prove his capability as ruler – Solona was getting rather weary of being known as "Kingmaker" from Ozramar to Denerim. The time had came for Alistair to stand alone, however much she yearned to be at his side.
A loud bark from Barkspawn (she winced at the name - Alistair had convinced her it was a good idea) alerted her attention to the lone figure standing at the Pier. Solona's expression twisted into one of joy, and rather unbecoming to a national hero and one of the Circle's most respected mages she found her feet had a will of their own. He had gotten her message, it seemed, and she let out a whoop of joy as she saw that familiar grin sweep across his face.
The next few moments where … garbled in Solona's mind. Flesh against flesh, familiar scents of polish, sweat and … rosewater (Being noble did have an effect on him after all) but most of all, the long, unbreaking union of their lips which with contained the essence of longing borne of three months away from each other. Their reunion, however, was short lived by the rather determined attention of Barkspawn, who was almost as pleased to see Alistair as his mistress was.
"Hey boy!" Alistair exclaimed, running his fingers through the Mabari's short, brown fur causing the stub to positively wiggle, incapable of wagging as it was, "Alright you, stop buttering me up. The cooks have already been told to have a nice, big juicy steak waiting for you at the fireplace back at the palace. I'm on to you."
Solona laughed as Barkspawn barked happily, before linking her arms with Alistair's. "Tell me," she said, "Exactly how much trouble are you in for ordering the port closed tonight?"
Alistair chuckled, "You forget, you silly subject, that I am King. People can't give me into trouble."
Solona raised an eyebrow, "Ah, shall I tell Wynne that then?"
"No, no! There's no need, I assure you!" Alistair voice quavered in mock panic, "Blast … I forgot about her. Ah well, she wasn't the one I wanted the spanking from tonight, but a man can't be picky. Anyway, how was Par Vollen?"
Solona, who was stilled somewhat disturbed by the mental image of Wynne and Alistair took some time before answering, "It was … certainly an experience I'll never forget. It did take some time for Sten to explain that I wasn't a prisoner he had captured from war, but the Warden who ended the Blight. I'm pretty sure the Arishok was unconvinced, kept calling me a "Saarebas""
"Really? No Demi-Gods arising from the chasms of the earth? No insane, ancient Mages wielding a forgotten power to destroy the world? You just … had a nice time?" Alistair said, his voice heavy with disbelief.
"I resent the implication that I am somehow linked to tragedy," Solona said, haughtily rising her nose up in the air, before a guilty look spread across her face. "But maybe I had to kill one High Dragon to prevent the destruction of the city. Just one."
Alistair grinned, "Well at least you got plenty of fresh air."
Their laughter echoed across the night, and for those brief moments walking to the castle, it wasn't the King of Ferelden and Warden-Commander Amell, just simply two lovers reunited at last.
-O-
The bright, winter sun pricked Solona's eyelids early the next morning, causing them to open blearily as she blinked the last remnants of sleep from her mind. She let out a low groan of satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of being woven into the cosy confines of a proper bed, and not a hammock that continuously rocked with each movement from the ship. Yawning, she looked from the window, judging it to be early sunrise and she smiled. Solona had always been an early riser, even from her days back in the Circle. She had treasured the moments of quiet before everyone else had awoken, it made her feel as though she was in a secret world where she alone was present.
She bade her tired and far too comfortable body from the warm confines of her bed, pouring a small pool of water into a pewter bowl, she cupped a handful of the cool water and washed her face quickly, then proceeding to dress herself in a simple, well made robe of black, lined with the white fur of a hare to keep out the Ferelden chill.
As she was styling her auburn hair into its usual bun, leaving a few strands of hair to hang from her forehead, she started as she heard the sound of her bedmate's voice.
"Nooo," Alistair's voice sounded, rich in childish reproach, "Why are you getting dressed?
His nude form wandered over to her chair, where he planted kisses along her neck, "Come back to bed, dear."
"Alistair," Solona said, her voice part irritation, temptation and amusement, "I have a lot to do. There's the location of several darkspawn encampments spotted which need scouted before I can deal with them, the answers to recruitment petitions we sent out, The Circle have sent an missionary to speak with me …"
"Surely you could spare twenty minutes, for your King," he pleaded, fiddling with the fastenings of her robe.
"What is the other fifteen minutes for?" she said, a wicked smile upon her face.
"That was one time, Solona!" Alistair said, grinning slightly as he lifted her upon his shoulder in a quick motion.
"Alistair!" she shouted, her small fists hitting off his shoulder, laughing loudly as she struggled under his firm grip, "Put me down!"
"Can't," he responded, "Templar training and all that, need to keep mages close to us. Who knows what evil plots you could hatch behind my back."
He threw her on the bed, his lips trailing down her collar bone, his hand travelling along her thigh. She groaned, perhaps she could wait another half hour.
A loud knock on the door caused both of them to jump, and they sighed. "Just the cleaning lady," Alistair said, his voice taking a comical high pitch. Solona nudged him sharply, trying to stifle her giggles.
"Alistair, if you do not open this door this minute I will give you such a thick ear!" came a familiar, and much loved, voice.
"Wynne!" Solona said, smiling, as she gestured to the door, using a brief use of manna causing the door to swing open. Alistair yelped and hid under the covers.
Wynne, dressed in the robes of a Senior Enchanter, gave her usual half smile. "Solona," she said happily, "I somehow suspected I would find the King here. I would have come to you last night, but thought you might be otherwise … occupied."
Solona smiled widely, enveloping her friend and mentor in an embrace, before Wynne regarded Alistair severely, "Your both late for the Council meeting, no more dawdling, and hurry up!"
"Both?" Solona said, puzzled, and then narrowed her eyes at Alistair suspiciously.
The Ferelden King looked wretched, clearly wishing that the two woman who he feared the most would not look at him so. "Eh … kind of forgot to tell you last night. It seems that we were short a member for the Council, and to be honest the other candidates got quite snippy with me so…"
"You appointed me?" she said in shock, "How do you expect me to fulfil such duties and be the Warden Commander of Ferelden? Didn't you think, in a single one of your letters, to ask me beforehand?"
"It's only for a while!" he said, looking more and more as if he wished for an wandering Archdemon to snap him up on its was by. "Just until Ferelden has begun to stabilise after the Blight, none in court dared to question your appointment while the support of the people for you was so high. They call you the "Hero of Ferelden."
Solona shook her head, "I wonder if they would, did they know the whole tale. It was not heroics, but constant bloodshed, decisions none should make, always against the odds."
Wynne smiled, "My dear, such things are what make people heroes. Kings and generals may be hailed as mighty or great as they sail with a powerful force to destroy their enemies. But they are not loved by the people as much as you. In you they see one among them, even if you are a mage, who rose to greet a duty she did not ask for. The defender of Ferelden while nobles squabbled, a bringer of order while the world was in chaos. Such things are what make a Hero, and your qualifications for such a title I have no doubt."
Solona's face warmed, as it always did when people spoke of her. "Thank you, Wynne."
"You're welcome," the old mage said, her voice warm, before giving them a final stern look. "Now, enough of this, it will be a very poor Ferelden for you to be Hero of if you both don't get to this Council soon!"
Solona glanced at the figures before her, her fellow councilmen. They were seated in a small, richly furnished room, dominated by a large round table of polished mahogany. A large map of Ferelden and its neighbours spread out upon it. Sweet wines and candied fruits had been placed in silver dishes, as well as a large pile of letters.
Solona was sat between herself and Wynne, and opposite her where the other two members of the council. Aether Vorlan, Bann of Dormouth, was the King's spymaster. He was a tall, thin man who was quite elderly, yet his black-brown eyes showed a fierce, calculating intelligence. Beside him was the Arl Eamon, who looked rather comfortable in his new surroundings.
"Warden-Commander," Eamon said, inclining his head. Solona frowned, noting the tone of curtness in his voice. Did he perhaps disapprove her presence here? She had always known Arl Eamon as a friend and indeed had done much to gain his favour, saving his son and Arling. She risked a glance at Wynne, who face was studiously calm, betraying nothing.
"An honour to make your acquaintance, Commander," Aether said, inclining his head. His voice was as smooth as glass, and he spread his hands out as he continued, "It has been many years since a Warden has sat upon this Council, however how could we deny the Hero of Ferelden such a position? All of Denerim speaks your name, a Mage of humble origins that rose from her obscurity to destroy the blight. With qualifications such as that, I await eagerly the brilliance of your mind."
Solona frowned slightly, his words seemed friendly, his tone perfectly amiable. However as she dissected the intent behind him, she felt a flare of anger ignite within her stomach – is implication that her place here was nothing more than a bauble they had been forced to decorate the people's hero with and soon she would see how ill-suited she was to the task. Wynne's careful mask of serenity now made more sense to her, causing her to quickly school her expression to something similar.
"Likewise an honour, Bann Vorlan," Solona said, regarding him with a neutral expression, "I have already made the acquaintance of Arl Eamon, however I think you must have been away during the Blight. I only spoke with those who had made sizeable contributions to the efforts in its eradication."
Aether's eyes narrowed slightly, before quickly returning to his normal expression which gave Solona a small thrill over her victory. She had been quite opposed to the idea of sitting upon the Council, however she was not going to be subjected to such pettiness from the likes of him.
"Anyway," Alistair said, his ears going red as they always did when he was slightly embarrassed. Solona's mouth twitched into a small smile – he really was adorable. "The Empress of Orlais has somewhat buggered our attempts at rebuilding Denerim and other important towns and villages. Few merchants are willing to trade with us after Celene has played her Game."
"However," Eamon said, pulling out a sheaf of paper, "We received a communication from a Lady Josephine Montilyet – from a rather impoverished noble family in Antiva. She's either bold or desperate enough to put forth an offer to arrange some incredibly beneficial imports of timber and stone for us to utilise."
"Myself and Eamon have taken the liberty of arranging some terms for the council to consider," Vorlan said, passing each of the council members a copy of a rather standard contact of business, Solona recognising it from the few times she had helped in the Stockroom and Archives in her circle days. She scanned the document, her brow crinkling slightly as she saw the price offered by the council. It seemed ridiculously low – Solona thought about asking if it was a mistake. She kept quiet, however, wondering if she was ignorant of some merchant shorthand or custom, or perhaps misread the terms.
"Bann Vorlan!" Wynne said, her voice aghast, "These terms are ridiculous. A price such as this the Lady Montilyet would not be remiss to end any further negotiations with us."
"And yet she will not," Eamon said, "The Montilyet family need this more than even us, she will haggle the price up somewhat, but we will still have saved a considerable amount of gold."
"So we are to profit on deceit and others misfortune," Wynne said, anger in her voice, "What a lovely way to begin the new King's reign and advertise to the world our intentions."
"The realities of the situation demand it, Mistress Wynne," Vorlan said, narrowing his eyes, "The fortunes of a single family does not outweigh the importance of Fereldan's integrity."
"So we are to sacrifice principles for gold," Wynne retorted, drumming he fingers on the table, "A route which leads to dangerous destinations."
"Perhaps a compromise could be in order," Solona said quietly, causing the others to look at her expectantly, and she felt her face warm once more. "I don't think it's necessarily wrong to profit from such an opportunity however what Wynne said is true – perhaps we offer a more generous price which is still below the average. Lady Montilyet will expect this and not feel so robbed, encouraging her to trade with us in future."
Vorlan and Eamon looked as if they were to disagree, but Alistair held up his hand. "Enough, Warden-Commander Amell's suggestion is closer to my personal alignment and what I want done. So … yeah, do that."
"As you wish, Majesty," Vorlan said smoothly, his voice even. Arl Eamon was less successful in disguising his discontent, his eyes clearly showering Solona with great dislike. The Grey Warden wondered if perhaps no longer being the King's most trusted advisor was the reason behind his earlier animosity. She felt her insides go cold suddenly – what den of snakes had she fallen into?
-O-
Solona was surprised to find a meal waiting for her when she got back to her rooms - it seemed palace living took a while to get used to. Even in the circle meals where only delivered to rooms for guests and the sick. Taking the plate of breads, cheeses and cold meats she took a seat at her desk. As she masticated her lunch she gazed at the huge piles of letters before her, paling a little at the thought. If someone had told her defeating the Archdemon would have resulted in so much paper work she might have reconsidered.
There was at least a hundred, some embossed with the seals of various guilds and noble houses, others on cheap and badly made paper which suggested a humbler origin. She opened one at random, and scanned it briefly, thanking those hours poring over tomes and scrolls in the circle which meant she had perfected the art of speed reading. It was a letter from a farmer a few miles from where Lothering had once been. He was complaining that some refugees that had been displaced by the Blight had been looting from his crops. Andriel frowned - this was not her responsibility. He would have been better writing to his local officer to the Crown, who could deal with it.
Quickly she plucked four more letters from the pile and did the same, two were of the same vein as the last - petty grievances that they wished the Hero of Ferelden to solve, and the other two where invitations to a feast in her honour. Solona grimaced - she felt bad ignoring them, but as she saw how much she had to get through she saw little other recourse.
She noticed, however, a letter had been bound in red ribbon. She remembered Scribes in the bookbinders and archivists that set up their business a few miles from the Circle used to do it to indicate an important letter or document.
Taking her knife she opened the letter with a neat tear, and her eyes widened as she recognised the seal of the Grey Wardens. Her eyes, however, soon narrowed in annoyance as they travelled down the communication.
"Warden-Commander Amell,
Our ambassador at Denerim informs us that upon the defeat of the Archdemon you were not there to receive his summons. Indeed, it seems that few knew of your whereabouts. Eventually an audience with the King was obtained and he informed us that you had left on some business with a Qunari at Tal-Vasoth!
Warden Commander, this is unacceptable behaviour. While we appreciate your training at the hands of our fallen comrade, Duncan, was brief this does not excuse such recklessness. Grey Wardens are to await representatives upon encounters with major Darkspawn activity to provide a full report. You have been lax in your duties, Commander.
Therefore, upon your arrival you are instructed to leave Ferelden at once and make yourself to Weisshaupt. There you will receive a disciplinary hearing of your conduct, and a full interview about the Archdemon and its subsequent vanquishing.
I remind you, Warden-Commander, though Ferelden has claimed you as its Hero and applause is lauded to you, you are still a Grey Warden under the authority of the First Warden.
Yours,
Henault Schriver, High Commander of the Grey Wardens."
Solona sat with a piece of Orlesian's finest fromage halfway to her mouth in shock, rereading the letter several times. She felt ... angry. But such a description wasn't enough to describe the cold, diamond-sharp feeling that filled the pit of her stomach. Taking a fresh sheet of parchment, she dipped her quill in ink and carefully formulated her reply.
"High Commander,
I apologise for the misunderstaningd my absence seems to have caused. However, it has indeed been difficult to acclimatise to the Grey Warden's protocol with the unfortunate preoccupation of fighting the Blight with no support from the Order.
Unfortunately, I am unable to agree to your request for my attendance of your hearing, as I have much rebuilding efforts to engage in as, as you have pointed out, I have been absent for some time.
Any inconvenience caused may be directed to His Majesty King Alistair, who has requested my counsel as his adviser for the foreseeable future.
Yours,
Warden Commander Amell."
Signing her name with a flourish that was slightly more forceful than necessary, she dried the ink with fine sand, and folded the letter carefully before sealing it with wax. Once done, she slipped it in a wooden tray for a servant to deliver.
She stormed out her room, wondering where she would go. She was too furious to sit and read letters and reports, she just wanted a Darkspawn she could freeze before crushing it with stone and burn it with fire! First Enchanter Irving's words flashed in her mind. As a young Apprentice she was known to be hot-headed, and her temper had been the source of some unfortunate conflagrations in the library. Most Enchanter's had sworn they wouldn't teach her any more Elemental magic. It was Irving who took her aside, and patiently taught her to control her anger.
"Think of the fire you summon, child. It wants to burn, it's part of its nature. Uncontrolled it will destroy all it touches, leaving nothing behind. Controlled, harnessed properly and it performs a useful function. Think of your anger as such, Solona, uncontrolled it will consume you. Acknowledge its root, its dangers and its potential. Channel it usefully, and you will burn with a brilliance all of your own."
Solona thought wistfully of the old magus, wishing he was there to counsel her. Then she remembered another wise Circle mage who was near. Smiling a little, she sought out Wynne's room.
-O-
Solona found the wizened mage in her rooms and she was consoled to see that Wynn did not seem to be immune to the hordes of correspondence that Solona had been subjected to. As well as a council member, Wynne was also acting Ambassador for the Circle which was quite an arduous task of late due to the Circle's recent independence.
Diligently the mage was writing at her desk, before starting at the noise of Solona at the door. She gave her usual knowing smile, "What's on your mind?"
"This!" Solona said, showing the offending letter to Wynne, who took it calmly in defiance of the anger radiating from the Warden Commander and read it impassively.
"You're surprised?" Wynne said, with a smile on her face, not reacting quite how Solona had expected.
"What?" She exclaimed in surprise.
"Solona, dear, you must recognise the Blight is over. You may have left one battlefield but you have entered another, perhaps even deadlier – politics. Weisshaupt fears you Solona, not in living memory has a Grey Warden reached such a pinnacle of achievement and fame. The Wardens of the Anderfells guard their influence jealously, and will seek to humble you to cement it." Wynne explained calmly, handing the letter back to an aghast Solona.
"But … but I never asked for any of this! I just killed a bloody Archdemon! I'm not qualified for any of this!" Solona said, feeling sick. It had been easier, during the Blight, she reflected wistfully – a Darkspawn turned up and she killed it. It didn't have ulterior motives, it didn't talk sweetly to you while formulating your demise.
"Then learn Solona, because you are involved in this new world with or without your consent. You are not the first to be thrust into this world without asking, our Alistair being another example, and those around you will not hesitate to strike you while you look to find your feet."
Solona sighed, taking a seat next to Wynne. The Blight might be over, but it seemed as if there was more to her legacy than a dead Archdemon.
Little explanation of the intent of the story here, I have always been a little unsatisfied at how the Hero of Ferelden is sort of forgotten by the game after DA:O. This would be a figure of immense political power, so here I wish to document her path in Thedas's history, probably up to DA:I. Anyway hope you enjoyed so far, please leave a review if so.