Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.

I wanted to see a story line where Aeducan returns and takes the throne himself despite it all, after all he could say that Caridin gave him the crown, and then just acted liked a boss. I decided to write it myself, but I will admit that it is slightly rushed and some of the characters are a bit OC. Oh well; it got the plot bunny out of my head.

Read and review.

Duran Aeducan stared at the crown in Caridin's hand, the Paragon's crest emblazoned on the gleaming metal to authenticate his approval for Duran's choice for Orzammar's king. It shone eerily in the cavern, the lava flow casting red light on the metal. It struck Duran then just how monumental a thing that was being held before him – the power to decide the fate of his beloved Orzammar.

"I give you this crown, Duran Aeducan. Give it to whom you will – I care no more for the politics of Orzammar," the Paragon golem said. "It is time that the secrets of the Anvil of the Void perish with my destruction."

Duran slowly reached out to take it, noticing that it was much more ornate that his father's crown had been. The crown that his brother Bhelen so lustily sought after. The crown that was now the cause for the festering wound that was dividing the great dwarven kingdom.

He had come down to this far off place, forgotten to the ages as lost to the darkspawn, by request of his brother, the same one that had tricked their dear father into thinking that he had killed Trian; a brother that would betray his own blood so ruthlessly in pursuit for the crown. Bhelen needed just a bit more backing in the Assembly to secure the vote for his power grab at the throne, support that Duran was supposed to provide so that the Grey Wardens would have the fourth and final group of their traditional allies against the Blight.

The Dalish elves, the finest archers in all of Thedas it could be argued, stood ready to stand against the darkspawn horde. The mages, terrible in their power and masters of their reality, left their cloistered lives so as to rain down hellfire and lightning upon the darkspawn. The humans, so vast in their number and the dominance, settled their civil war and mustered an army even larger than that lost at Ostagar.

All that remained was the dwarven army: experienced, brutally efficient, with centuries of hate fueling their rage at the darkspawn. Hate that had stemmed from thaig after thaig falling and being lost to the ever encroaching horde: Ortan, Kal'Hirol, Bownammar, Cadash, Amgarrak, Valdasine, Darmallon, Hormak, Zygmunt, Aeducan, and many more. Each one a bitterly felt loss, eternally remembered in the collective memories of the dwarves.

And Duran was being offered the key to direct such a force by one of the greatest Paragons to have ever lived, cursed to exist as a golem by his own Anvil.

Taking the crown into his hands, Duran looked up at the hulking Caridin, "Do you know why I am here, Paragon?" Duran felt small, like a child, with the events of the Blight and the momentous events and mustered armies that could not afford to fail.

"To settle the throne, Aeducan."

Duran continued to look at the crown, but then spoke up. "There is a Blight on the surface. The Fifth Blight, for which the forces of Ferelden have mustered to stand against. There are elves, humans, mages, all prepared to fight what seems to be an impossible battle because there are only two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden at the moment, and the dwarves do not stand on the surface because there is no king to command them to do so," Duran said, looking up to meet the glowing eyes of the golem Paragon. "My elder brother, Trian Aeducan, was the heir to the throne and was assassinated by my younger brother Bhelen, who framed me for the crime. I was exiled, and Bhelen made a power grab, but another deshyr stood against him with enough support that he cannot receive the votes to be made king. With this crown, I can rectify that situation."

The Paragon stood silent at this information, troubling over the information about the Blight. "What about this is supposed to concern me, Aeducan?"

Dark eyes growing hard, Duran spoke with steel in his voice, "Do you still care for Orzammar, Paragon Caridin? Do you still care for the great halls, the hissing of the lava as in passes under the mountains? Do you still care, in any way, for the kingdom that you once called home?"

The Paragon was silent at this information, which was all Duran needed to go on, venting out thoughts and anger that had festered inside his soul since Bhelen's betrayal.

"If Bhelen or Harrowmont take the throne, they'll lead Orzammar in the wrong direction and won't have the understanding to fight the darkspawn! Harrowmont will spurn any help from the surfacers or the Wardens, driving Orzammar to stand alone in the Deep, alone and friendless and isolated! Bhelen is politically cutthroat enough to get results for Orzammar, but he'll destroy our culture as he does it, and won't have the proper military know how to bring the fight to the darkspawn after this Blight! Orzammar needs a leader that the people will understand and feel secure in protecting our heritage, but also a leader that is strong enough to retake the thaigs! Orzammar must prevail."

Duran's companions were staring shocked at this outburst, the usually austere dwarf exploding with emotion. His love for his home was shining through all of the events that should be tarnishing any hope he has for the great dwarven city.

"These names mean nothing to me, Aeducan, but from the way you speak it sounds like you have an idea of who Orzammar could find her king in. What is you want from me?"

Duran's eyes flashed and he took a deep breath, "I was second in line for the throne. I am the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. I have mustered an army of elves, mages, and men to fight off a Blight. I have the backing of free willed golem lord of House Cadash. I have the loyalty of the Legion of the Dead, elevated to a minor noble house. I have the support of the sole remaining member of House Branka. I was well loved by not only the Assembly, but the people as wewll before Bhelen's betrayal. I have a crown forged by a Paragon for the king of Orzammar."

"You want to take the throne for yourself," Caridin's voice echoed through the cavern. "You would face a night insurmountable difficulty because of your exiled status, however."

Duran nodded at this, "Which is why I ask you for your help one last time, Paragon Caridin. Help me give Orzammar the king she needs for this coming chance."

"I told you Aeducan, I do not care for Orzammar politics anymore. I simply wish for an end to this eternity that I have spent in this body of steel, to go back to the Stone."

Grinning, Duran's smile broke through his black beard, "You forget that Orzammar has lava flows as well, Caridin."

And with that sentence and a deep seated love for his home, Caridin let out a sigh and asked, "What more do you need of me?"

"You to vouch in front of the Assembly for me, and the Legion of Steel."

"Legion of Steel?"

"The one hundred and twenty steel golems that were sent into the deep roads to retrieve you. None of them returned, and I saw many of them on our way here. I took care not to destroy them."

Caridin seemed troubled at this last request, "They are poor souls who are trapped for an eternity in steel to be ruled by a control rod, they should be returned to the Stone like me."

"They were volunteers, Paragon, they chose that existence to protect Orzammar. Allow them to return and do so!"

"…Very well. I will order their return with the master control rod."

A voice interrupted their discussion from behind them; Alistair had walked up to the platform that the exiled prince and the Paragon had been talking. "Excuse me, but will you explain what exactly is going through your head, Duran?!"

Turning to face his fellow Warden, who was glaring angrily at him, Duran spoke quietly, but with an evident edge in his voice. "Orzammar must prevail."

"Oh yes, that's just all fine and great, but I think you've forgotten that there is an archdemon that we need to deal with?!" Alistair questioned angrily. "We need to kill it – you can't just ignore it and hope that someone else will kill it! You can't just run off play a king!"

At this, Duran thrust is fist in the templar's gut, making him fall to his knees and socking him in the jaw. "This has to be done. The story doesn't end once the Blight is ended, fool. Orzammar needs a king strong enough to eradicate the sudden influx of darkspawn back into the Deep Roads. I will make sure she has such a king. I traipsed all across this country to do what needed to be done, large and small. Your affairs are in order, Chantry boy," Duran said with obvious reference to their meeting with Goldanna. "Now I'm settling mine." His eyes were hard, unflinching and the resolve in them unchanging.

Caridin watched the exchange before waving Duran's attention back to him, "Here is the control rod for the steel golems, Aeducan, they're already activated. Let us waste no more time – the sooner this is settled the sooner I may go back to the Stone," the Paragon said as he lumbered past the two Wardens to their remaining party, striking up a conversation with Shale.

Duran ordered the Legion of Steel, still one hundred and twenty strong, even though some were in rough condition, to return with their group to Orzammar. It would make quite the entrance, and theatrics was half of dwarven politics. Two Grey Wardens, one an exiled prince, the shamed member of House Branka, two free willed golems, one of which a Paragon, and the entire long missing Legion of Steel that Caridin had deactivated. A most intimidating sight, which was not yet complete in his mind. They would need to cross the Dead Trenches to get back to Orzammar, where Kardol and his Legion still stood and fought.

Orzammar would have the strongest, Stone-willed king she could have.

The gatekeeper to the main entrance to the Deep Roads in Orzammar was puzzled as he felt light tremors beneath his feet, but grew alarmed when he realized that they were coming closer, each tremor stronger than the last.

There wasn't enough time to rally more guardsmen if this was a darkspawn attack, and it was odd that forward scouts hadn't come back to report the imminent attack. The gatekeeper didn't think about this last part though, and if he had he might not have been so confounded at what emerged from the mouth of the cavern.

Golems by the dozen, steel plated and powerful, poured into the city as the long lost Legion of Steel returned to its city of creation. Their imposing battlements, the armor spikes and silverite plating, testaments to their forging, were speckled with dirt from their centuries of absence from smiths and the frontlines. As the emerged, the dwarven guardsmen could only stand dumbfounded as they walked past them and towards the Diamond Quarter.

Behind them followed yet another imposing sight. Kardol and his elite unit of the Legion of the Dead followed their golem counterparts, a grim and resolute look on their faces. Any attempts to hail Kardol were ignored as he brusquely pushed past them. He was a man on a mission.

Emerging last from the cavern was the group that had gone in on what the gatekeeper had believed to be a fool's errand; to chase after Branka. But they reemerged, covered in darkspawn blood, with a golem of an even more imposing height made of dark steel; golem with the crest of House Caridin, with the kinslayer walking in front of the group with a resolute look on his face.

The gatekeeper's eyes locked onto that gaze and in it he saw a king's gaze; the gaze of Endrin Aeducan and of every king of Orzammar that had come and gone. It was a gaze of unbending will, the gaze of a leader that would reclaim old glory while preventing stagnation. The gaze of a dwarf that could listen to the plights of his people and ease them

The gaze of a dwarf that was innocent of the claims against him and would see justice done.

The gaze of dwarf he would be proud to kneel to as king.

The Aeducan walked passed him, his entourage trailing behind him, and followed the Legion of Steel and the Legion of the Dead to the Diamond Quarter and to Orzammars's future.

"You," the gatekeeper said, pulling a guardsman's attention to him, "Rally the guards. It is time that Orzammar united against this threat, and if that means I have to upset a few deshyrs and their politics then so be it."

"Sir?"

The gatekeeper's eyes hardened, feeling a change in the Stone. "The Deep Guards stand with the rightful heir and king, Duran Aeducan, first of his name."

The arguments in the Hall of Assembly over Bhelen's bid for the throne against Harrowmont's ceased as the doors were thrown open to admit a sight that none of them had ever seen.

"By the Paragons," Lady Helmi whispered, "The Legion of Steel…"

Lord Dace leaned forward, watching in amazed eyes as the scene played out before him, the golems that had long been thought lost to the Deep Roads continuing to pour into the forum and take up positions on the edge of the room against the walls. "Not just that…"

The Legion of the Dead entered the Assembly as well, and stood near the entrance, grim and resolute, and Kardol's eyes swept over the assembled deshyrs as they stared at, though they didn't know it yet, the biggest bid for the crown in Orzammar's history. A bid that would give the Legion of the Dead the assistance they would need. A bid that would reclaim Bownammar for them.

Bhelen grinned at this development, "Deshyrs of the Assembly, I give you the backing of a Paragon for my claim to the – "

"Quiet Bhelen," Duran's voice cut through. It contained steel that had not been used against his younger brother since they were boys and the youngest son had been annoying his elder brother. Duran used it back then to make his brother feel small and insignificant. And because of its rarity when they were older, it instantly made Bhelen feel less confident about his bid and his brother's intents.

Duran Aeducan strode into the chamber with his shoulders back and his head held high. "Lords and Ladies of the Assembly," he began, "I come before you to present myself as a candidate for the throne of Orzammar."

Silence flooded through the Assembly, a mix of curiosity towards an exile's bid for the throne and awe at the forces he brought with him.

"I have returned from the Deep Roads with gifts to the people of Orzammar; things to show my value for the crown of Orzammar," Duran waved a hand to the steel golems now lining the walls of the Assembly. "I have returned with the lost Legion of Steel, all one hundred and twenty silverite golems still in one piece. I come with the support of the last members of House Cadash and House Branka."

Oghren, who would usually object being called the last of his house, kept silent to the surprise of the deshyrs. It confirmed a grim thought in all of their minds – Paragon Branka was well and truly dead.

Duran's other hand waved another golem over, smaller than the others and made of stone. "I am Shayle of House Cadash, with records of my life in the Shaperate and on the record of volunteers for golem service on the Anvil of the Void." Shale intoned.

A murmur swept through the assembled deshyrs at this announcement; the endorsement from a member of a noble house like Cadash held an incredible weight behind it, in particular because there were so few members of the house alive.

"You expect us to take the word of a golem?" one of the lesser lords sneered. "And this stands aside from the fact that you are a kinslayer, an exile!"

Kardol let his weapon hit the floor, bringing attention to him. "The Legion of the Dead supports Duran Aeducan's claim." His glare silenced many that would stand against his backing, point ing out that all members of the Legion were considered dead.

But that did not mean that the Legion itself had no significance.

"Deshyrs of the Assembly," Duran spoke to recapture their attention, "A Blight is ravaging the surface and Orzammar must stand strong. The surfacers need dwarven steel to aid their fight; steel that we must provide. An army of elves, men, and mages, rallied together by myself and my fellow Grey Warden, stands ready. It is an army that I will direct down into the Deep Roads once this Blight is culled." He looked at each and every one of the assembled nobles to drive home his next point. "It is an army that can reclaim the glory of the thaigs for Orzammar. It is an army that would reclaim Bownammar and Kal-Hirol, and all of the wisdom and techniques, all of the gold and history that was lost when the darkspawn took the thaigs from us. It is an army that could save Orzammar from collapsing in on itself, giving it room to grow and become great once more."

Bhelen, finding his voice and fear beginning to claw at him when he realized the deshyrs were actually considering what he was saying, shouted out "And this army will still be there at the end of the Blight to be directed into the Deep Roads! We do not need you, a kinslayer, to betray centuries of tradition to command it!"

Bhelen stopped talking when he found his elder brother leveling his greatsword at his neck. "Quiet, Bhelen," he growled, "Or I will become a true kinslayer yet."

Harrowmont, who had stayed silent through the whole of the Duran's entrance, spoke up now. "Would you care to explain what you mean, Duran?" This would be a prime opportunity to clear his name.

"As I said before I was exiled, I did not kill Trian. Frendlin Ivo and the scout were bribed to say that I did, and on his honor Ivo should tell the truth now. I was framed and exiled so that Bhelen would have a direct line to the throne," Duran said. "But exiling me was perhaps the best thing for Orzammar, for I've returned with an army at my call, the backing of a Paragon, and the support of two Legions."

"Paragon?" Bhelen asked breathlessly as he felt the throne slipping away from him. "You found Paragon Branka?"

"No," Caridin spoke up. "He found me." The dark golem stepped up next to the Aeducan who he was backing, "I am Paragon Caridin, sentenced to be trapped in a golem's body for objecting to King Valtor's demands to create more golems from casteless, prisoners, and political enemies. I am the one who forged the new crown that Aeducan holds in his hands. I back his claim."

The eyes of the lords in the Assembly went to the crown in Duran's hands, which they had overlooked during all the shocking revelations.

Harrowmont, who had only put himself forward as an option in order to prevent Bhelen's immediate ascendance, smiled lightly at Duran's twist on his brother. "You have the backing of Paragon Caridin, the last members of Houses Branka and Cadash, the Legion of the Dead, an army of surfacers to fight against the darkspawn, and you have brought back the Legion of Steel. Did I miss anything? This is quite the backing you have, Duran Aeducan." They stared at each other for a moment before he spoke up once again, "However, I cannot support this break from tradition. It goes against all of our history and our culture to allow you to put yourself forward as a candidate. I may find you to be a much better alternative to your brother, but I do not second your claim."

"You're a kinslayer, no matter what you say. You're an exile. I do not second your claim, brother," Bhelen sneered.

Lord Dace had a different opinion on the matter though, "Duran Aeducan proved himself to me in the Deep Roads when he rescued my company in his family's old thaig. Despite his reasons to be against Orzammar's nobility, he still risked his life and the life of his companions to save my own." Then he uttered the words that would change the course of Orzammar's history, "I second Duran Aeducan's bid for the throne. It must now be put to a vote."

The deshyrs of the Assembly stared at one another at this turn of events; they had expected the battle for the throne to be between Bhelen and Harrowmont, not a three way fight where it was apparent who had the most backing; backing that was armed to the teeth and surrounding all of them. A fact that they were all now well aware of.

Several hands went slowly up into the air, including a few deshyrs from the Bhelen or Harrowmont blocs. Slowly, as they saw more and more of their contemporaries raise their hands in favor the eldest Aeducan, even more deshyrs raised their hands in affirmation for his bid as king.

Bhelen saw that his brother was obtaining a clear majority and was close to the number of votes needed for his bid to be affirmed as king. "No!" he shouted, drawing his blade, "The throne was mine!" He charged at his brother, intending to skewer him from behind, but failed to take into account Duran's compatriots.

Sten put Asala back into its spot on his back after decapitating the enraged prince, nodding to Duran.

Harrowmont grimaced at the sight, but wouldn't object; he did not want Bhelen on the throne at all. "It would seem you have your majority affirmation, my lord Duran Aeducan."

Putting the crown that Caridin had forged for the king of Orzammar on his head, Duran listened to the choruses of 'Stone preserve the king' before looking at Alistair, the now leader of the forces they had amassed. "You will have your army, Alistair."

A/N: There you go.