Chapter 6

There then was the gauntlet laid down before the entire Landsmeet, shaking the sense of victory that had permeated the hall for the past three weeks. Thomas Howe had challenged Fergus Cousland the Teyrn of Highever to a duel without cost, a single combat match where the winner took anything and everything from the loser. Unfortunately for the Couslands, history was on the side of the Howes.

The murmuring in the room fell silent as Thomas and Fergus stared at each other, separated by only a few slabs of wood. Everyone knew this was going to be something to behold. It had been many years since such a duel had been fought. Everyone had been so busy either fighting or canoodling with Orlais previously that they hadn't had time to focus on their own petty disputes with another (outside of killing each other to make Orlais happy), and they'd had no time to exact revenge after their liberation as Maric had seen to punishing the traitors himself. No one had wanted to break the veneer of peace ever since, as no one wanted this so called violent "Dragon" age to be true.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Fergus?" Eamon asked the younger man, bringing his lips close to his ear. "There are other options, other ways to handle this."

Thomas saw the older Guerrein's mouth whisper words into his opponent's ear and smirked. "What's wrong, Teyrn Cousland," he jeered, "can you not make decisions on your own? Are you a child that needs approval from your betters?"

"I will do this, Eamon," said Fergus darkly, fire blazing in his narrowed eyes, "if not for mother and father, then for Oren and Oriana."

"Then what are the terms of combat going to be?" Eamon raised his voice, addressing the two opponents with irritation, "are you going to roll around here in this chamber for all of our enjoyment, biting and clawing like two wild dogs? We're trying to help rebuild the kingdom. Do this another time."

"While normally I'd agree," Alistair said from his place on the throne, "I get the feeling that the Teyrn won't be able to concentrate until this matter has been seen to. Besides," Alistair's eyes wandered over to the tall woman who stood beside the eldest Cousland, giving her a look of curious irony, "it's not as if we haven't seen duels here in the Landsmeet before. It seems like these sorts of things just turn into great big dueling parties, so let's just get this one over with shall we?"

Teagan coughed softly in the back of his throat, and earned a hard stare from the Warden.

"Thank you, your majesty." Thomas sketched a bow in Alistair's direction, but the king just made an absent motion with his hand and rested his chin on his palm. "It is also my challenge," Thomas turned to Eamon, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, "therefore I get to set the stipulations for the combat, though seeing Fergus Cousland beg like a dog intrigues me."

"Maker's breath," Eamon shook his head and sat down, "why no one can think of anything but themselves these days, I'll never know."

"Go ahead then, you sniveling snake," Fergus growled, "set your terms and name your champion."

"Single combat, any weapon of choice, combat finishes when you are on your knees pleading for your life and admitting your wife was an Antivan whore."

The Warden's arms came up again to catch Fergus, who had already managed to get one leg over the table in his haste to charge the remaining Howe. She clapped one hand over his mouth to stop him from yelling anything that could be used against him in the duel. Fergus's teeth scratched against her skin, and his lips worked against her fingers as he yelled out something angry and incoherent.

"Fergus! Fergus!" she used her body weight to drag him away, whispering in his ear, "Fergus, you have to accept the terms and name your champion! But…don't do it right now, talk with me first. Please, talk with me first." She slowly drew her hand away from his mouth, her muscles ready to cover it once more if the need arose.

Fergus shook with the effort of restraining his range, and turned to his sister's icy countenance. "What is there to discuss?" he asked quietly, bending his head to hers.

"Let me fight Howe," said the Warden quietly, so no one would be able to overhear them.

"No, Thomas is mine to kill," he clenched his fists, "you killed his father, but I need some closure too, sister!"

"Not like this," the Warden took her brother's hands in her own and squeezed them gently. She looked at him, her eyes shining. "You are Teyrn now, and you represent our family. We do not want to be seen as political troublemakers, especially not since father worked so hard to prove our integrity and reputation to everyone in this hall. For the sake of our family's honor and respect, you can't be tarnished by this." She pleaded.

"You would just have us ignore this duel? What good is that?"

The Warden frowned. "No, that's what I'm saying. You can't fight Howe. But I can. I'm not a Cousland; I had to give up that privilege when Duncan took me. I'm a Grey Warden now. I can fight him, I can desecrate the Landsmeet again, and you will lose no face."

"I don't care about losing face; I care about what I've already lost." He closed his eyes and shook his head, "My poor Oren, and my Oriana. Mother, father…"

"You should think about what you're about to lose, if you do this," replied the Warden wearily. "Father worked so hard for the Cousland name, it would be a shame to lose that, since that's all we have left of him."

"I…I have to do this. I need to do this, for both my sake and that of our family's." Fergus pulled away from her, but his sister had an unrelenting grip on his hands and pulled him back.

"No, you have to be Teyrn," she said firmly, squeezing him roughly for emphasis, "and that requires doing things you don't like. In this case, it means putting aside your desire for revenge and doing what is best for our family and its reputation. Let me be seen as the troublemaker," she beseeched, "don't let them think that Bryce Cousland's seed spawned warmongering whelps."

Fergus inhaled deeply, feeling his sister releasing his hands as he exhaled. "If I let you do this… you'll let me make the final decision, won't you? You'll let me decide what to do with Howe; you won't just offer him mercy and let him walk away?"

The Warden nodded. "I promise you, Fergus, that when Howe is on his knees I will defer to your judgment as to his fate. I am your sword," she smiled, "You can wield me as you wish."

"I'm holding you to this." Fergus warned, but his sister only chuckled in response as she pushed him towards the waiting crowd.

"Well?" Thomas asked, "What's it to be then, Cousland? Do you accept the terms of my challenge? Did your lovely sister give you permission?"

"I gave her permission, actually," corrected Fergus. "You will face my sister, and we both accept the terms of your challenge."

Howe blinked in surprise. "Is Aurora even well enough to fight? Why, she has been out of bed for merely a few hours!"

"Scared, are you?" goaded Fergus with a baleful smirk, "I would be too, fighting the slayer of the Archdemon."

"Oh I wouldn't worry too much about that one's health, Howe," commented Alistair dryly, looking at the Grey Warden with guarded eyes, "she's fought in worse shape much less than a good night's rest. And I'm going to have to agree with the Teyrn. If I were you, and lucky me that I'm not, I'd be very scared indeed to fight her."

"No need to brag, gentlemen," reprimanded the Warden. "And yes, I am quite well enough to fight you and bring you to your knees, Thomas. Screaming, if needed."

"While I would do almost anything to accommodate you, Lady Cousland," Thomas's eyes trailed over her corseted chest as he gave her a simpering smile, "I am afraid it will be you on your knees, accommodating and screaming for me."

"Don't you dare talk to her like that!" Teagan slapped his hand on the table as he rose, "Not after everything she's done for us! You're a disgrace, Thomas Howe!"

"Do you want to fight me too, Teagan?" Thomas laughed at the Bann of Rainesfere. "You'll just have to wait in line. When I'm done with Lady Grey, here, I may not be satisfied, so perhaps I will have the pleasure?"

"You are utterly disgusting," said the Warden, slipping between the tables to come to the center of the chamber, ready to finalize the duel. "And you haven't changed at all in the years that I've known you."

"And the only thing that changes about you is that you grow colder and colder every year, Aurora. Always chilly, like a spring morning with no sunlight." Thomas shook his head and made small tsking noises, "Such a waste of a beautiful woman."

"Why don't we stop wasting air, Thomas, and get this over with?" suggested the Warden, putting her hands on her hips and widening her stance. "I'm growing bored of the banter."

"Fair enough, you never did enjoy small talk." Thomas turned back to Alistair, "My king, my family's guards as well as my mother and sister wait outside the chamber. Might they be permitted to enter so that we can begin?"

Eamon shook his head vehemently at Alistair, who caught the motion and shook his own head. "Sorry, but I'm not about to let your entire household in here. You can bring in your sister and mother, but the rest stay outside."

"All right." Thomas pointed at the Warden. "Stay there." He warily walked around her, keeping a safe distance away.

The Warden merely turned her head to follow his movements as he trotted to the grand door of the hall. The door guards shared looks at one another as they pulled apart the doors, permitting the disgraced noble to exit. He returned quickly, bringing with him a small, thin woman with a bony chin and spindly hands and a younger, plumper woman with rosy cheeks and tiny, piggy eyes. The young woman, Thomas's sister Delilah, held in her hands an ornate rapier.

The Warden recognized that weapon. She'd stripped it (and everything else) from Rendon Howe's body and sold it for a large amount of coin to an Antivan vendor.

As the three of them approached her, Thomas took the blade from his sister and held it up before the Warden. "It is strange," he said softly, admiring the way the sunlight played off the blade, "I never thought I would see this again. Did you know where I found it?"

"In the Denerim marketplace where I sold it?" supplied the Warden helpfully. "You may also want to try stopping at Master Wade's Emporium for your father's armor, if you haven't already run around the city buying back all his belongings that I sold."

"There is nothing left of him that I can find," hissed Thomas. "I was lucky enough to find the blade."

The Warden shrugged. "My apologies. Do I get to choose my weapons now?"

Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes."

"Excellent." The Warden swung her eyes around the hall, "Is there someone here who can get me a sword and shield? Oh! You there," she pointed to one of the guards standing behind the throne, choosing him specifically because he appeared to be roughly her height and size. She approached him with an easy gait, passing within inches of Alistair without even sparing him a glance. "May I borrow yours?"

The guard looked at her apprehensively. "Err…you'll be returning them afterwards, my lady?"

"Of course," she smiled. "The shield may have a few dents when I am done with it, but I'll happily pay for the repair cost."

The guard slipped the shield from his arm and offered it to the Grey Warden, who placed it upon her own. The Warden felt its weight pulling on her weakened arm and shoulder, but she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Taking the sword from the guard's waiting hand, she made a few swishing cuts and parries with the blade to get a feel for its length and balance. While neither sword or shield were of the same quality that her own missing arms were, they were suitable replacements for the menial task of beating Thomas Howe into the next week.

"Do you have a name?" asked the Warden, staring at the guard.

"W-Walter, my lady," he replied, uneasy at being so close to an armed and clearly dangerous Grey Warden.

"Thank you, Walter." She smiled at him, "it means a lot to me."

His eyes darted everywhere but at her smiling face. "Err, uh, you're welcome, my lady. Always, a…a pl-pleasure to serve."

"Hurry it up, Lady Grey," Thomas said from his position in the center of the room, running a wet cloth over the rapier's blade in slow, deliberate motions. The Warden turned to face him and Thomas quickly stuffed the cloth back into a pocket of his tunic.

"Actually, I do intend for this to be quick," said the Warden slowly, as she picked her way with careful steps down the dais of the king's throne towards the Howe family. "I don't have enough time in my days to waste it on you or your family anymore."

"And I have all the time in the world to waste on yours," Thomas motioned for her to come closer, "I will enjoy taking back Amaranthine and merging it with Highever."

"You'll have to fight the Grey Wardens for Amaranthine," Aurora took a small step to her left, sending Delilah and Matron Howe scuttling silently away like moths from a disturbed cupboard.

Thomas countered her with a step to the right, "The only Grey Wardens in Ferelden, rumor has it, are you and that traitor Loghain. Beating him will be no issue, if you could do it."

"You underestimate him too much, Thomas." The Warden adjusted her grip on the sword's pommel. "No one fights better than a man with nothing left to lose."

"Then you had better watch yourself, my dearest Lady Grey." Thomas advanced cautiously, "because that's exactly what I am."

"Your mother and Delilah must be so happy to know that they mean nothing to you," the Lady brought up her shield. "Such a good son you are, Thomas."

Narrowing his eyes at her goading, Thomas lunged. The Warden brought up her shield and walked into the blow, swinging the rapier out wide. She used her momentum to spin on the balls of her toes, smacking the elbow of her sword arm into the back of Thomas's neck. He staggered forward, rapier scratching the floor as the Warden stood watching and waiting behind her shield.

"Do you yield, Thomas Howe?" she asked.

"Absolutely not," replied Howe rubbing the back of his neck. "Not to you; not ever." He readied himself again, this time stepping forward and feinting a blow to the Warden's exposed head before making a slash at her leg. The Lady's foot came up to avoid the cut and stomped on Thomas's arm as it passed by, catching him off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. She swiftly brought her boot down on the hand holding his weapon, crushing and snapping the fingers pinned beneath the rapier's handle, causing him to shriek in pain.

"Do you yield, Thomas Howe?" she asked again.

"Nyaackkk…noooooo," Thomas ground out, struggling to pull himself away from her. The Grey Warden's boot remained firmly planted on his mangled hand. He reared up to his knees, swinging a fist at the back of her knee with all the strength he could muster. He felt the knee bend as he struck it, though only because he realized too late that she had swung her shield down to hit him. His head met the cool floor as the sound of metal rending flesh faded from his ears.

"Do you yield, Thomas Howe?" the question was asked just like before. She towered above him; her shadow falling over his eyes and her boot twisting his hand painfully into the rapier's handle over and over again.

"No! Never!" he yelled, trying again to move from her.

The Warden freed his hand, backing away from him. "Then get up and fight me."

Thomas struggled to his feet, staggering as he blinked away the stars dancing before his eyes. His hand throbbed painfully, so he pulled the rapier into his undamaged hand. He felt awkward and clumsy, but all he needed to do was break her pale skin and the match was over.

"This is ridiculous," said the Warden, seeing the spectacle that was the hunched and crippled Howe. She advanced on him, sword and shield both raised.

Thomas backed away from her, the rapier rattling in his unsteady hand, but she was faster and much more precise. She lunged forward and raised her shield, cracking it against the front of his face and breaking his nose. Meanwhile her sword slapped against his injured hand with the flat of its blade and Thomas howled, blood trickling rapidly into his mouth as both cartilage and bone were wiggled and broken.

"Do you yield, Thomas Howe?" the Warden brought her sword up to his throat.

"N-no," said Howe thickly, his breathing choked as he swallowed blood. "Never."

The Warden's borrowed blade pressed into the quivering flesh at his neck, tilting his head back and drawing a pinprick of blood at the point.

"NO! No! He yields!" Delilah cried from somewhere behind the Warden, her voice growing nearer as the sound of her slippered feet echoed on the stone.

The Lady quickly side stepped around Howe, dragging the tip of her blade along his throat. She refused to be flanked.

"Delilah," grunted Thomas, "no, no I don't yield!"

Delilah approached close enough for the Warden to switch targets, and she brought the blade up against Delilah's clammy, white neck fat. "What about now? Do you yield now?"

Delilah shrieked at the sudden bite of cold steel. "T-Thomas…" she whimpered, looking at him with terrified eyes, "Maybe they'll show us mercy. The Couslands have always been fair and just. Maybe they'll let us go! Just…just yield. It can be all right. It has to be all right."

Thomas bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head.

The Warden raised an eyebrow and pushed her sword a little harder into Delilah Howe's neck, the older girl mewling out in fear and warbling incoherently. "Do you yield, Thomas Howe?" she asked for the final time.

His shoulders sagging, Thomas nodded his head. "I yield. For my sister's sake, I yield."

The Warden removed her blade from Delilah's throat, letting the tip of it touch the floor. "Fergus Cousland, Thomas Howe has yielded, victory is with you. What do you wish of the Howes?"

"I want their lives." The answer came almost instantaneously, and Fergus turned to look at all three Howes, his eyes black with anger. "That is what I wish of them."

"Then it shall be as you wish, Teyrn Cousland," replied the Grey Warden with a solemn nod of her head. She raised her blade, pointing at Thomas. "On your knees, and bow your head."

"N-no…" Thomas growled, "I will die on my feet as my father, and I will not make this easy for you!"

"Your father died on his knees when I cut his legs out from under him," explained the Warden. "But if you wish to die standing, I can accommodate that." She readied her sword arm to strike, but halted when she felt weight pulling at her shield.

Delilah had launched herself at the Warden, and was on her knees, gripping the shield as she begged. "Please have mercy on our family, please. We will go far away," the tears slipped over her plump cheeks, "and never come back to Ferelden. Just let us leave, we'll go right now. Please, I beg you, spare us!"

"The only mercy I can grant you," said Aurora with steely eyes, "is to spare you from watching the death of your mother and brother."

The youngest Howe sobbed against her shield, smearing her face with her brother's blood in the process. "Oh please no…oh Maker no, please don't…no…" Her hands clawed against the Warden's arm.

"Face your death from these dogs with dignity, Delilah!" shouted Thomas, "stop sobbing like that!"

"I don't want to die!" sobbed Delilah, hiccupping and whimpering against the Warden. "Oh Maker, I don't want you or mother to die! Please spare us…please spare us!"

The Warden slipped into the protective shield of ice she had wrapped around herself since Highever, blocking away nagging feelings of guilt and remorse. She pulled away from Delilah, knocking the sobbing woman backwards onto her rear. "I am the blade, and I do as my wielder asks."

Delilah struggled up onto her knees, her hands before her to plead once more, but the Warden had already thrust her blade downward into the young woman's heart. Delilah's hands scrabbled furiously at the blade sticking out of her chest, but then they fell limp as her head lolled back and her body went slack. The Warden stepped away from the body and pulled her blade out, twisting it as she did so. Blood bloomed out of the ragged cut in the other woman's chest.

Matron Howe's howl of sorrow chilled the Landsmeet to its very core. Delilah's mother hitched up her skirts and hurried to her daughter's lifeless corpse, cradling her head in her spindly hands. Matron Howe plucked at her hair, clawing and ripping at the graying strands in grief as she shrieked like a wounded beast at a hunt.

Slowly slipping her shield off her arm, the Grey Warden took her blade in both hands and strode towards the Matron. Using the force of her momentum, she brought the blade down against the back of the older woman's neck, sinking to her knees to carry out the stroke to completion. The Matron's head and hands rolled across the floor towards Thomas, the blood spurting out of her neck splattered all over him before her body fell forward over her daughter's.

The Warden felt hot blood seep through her pant leg, and looking down saw the expanding pool of blood begin to envelop her. She carefully stood and stepped away, mindful not to dirty her boots anymore than she had to. Thomas looked at her with utter loathing, his teeth yellowed from the blood staining them.

"I curse you, the Couslands, and the Grey Wardens," he hissed, "I hope that everything you touch withers and dies, that your womb becomes shriveled, and your heart decays. I hope you fail." He raised his voice to address the entire Landsmeet, "I hope you all fail and Ferelden burns in - "

Lady Grey said nothing as she pushed her blade between his lips and out the back of his skull. Thomas's eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp as he fell to the floor. All around her the Howes lay dead and the eyes of the Landsmeet lay transfixed upon her in awe and horror. She heard Alistair shifting behind her on the throne, his armor rattling against the wood.

"Teyrn Cousland, it is done," she said, her voice and posture both still and strong. "Do you require anything else of me?" She met Fergus's gaze, and his eyes were as cold as she knew hers must have been.

"Nothing more, Grey Warden," answered Fergus with an approving nod of his head. "Thank you, for being the champion of House Cousland."

"Bann Mayfaire makes the motion to remove the Grey Warden from the Landsmeet," said a tall, lean man with graying blond hair and a short moustache, his tone one of outright disgust. "It is distracting that she is the source of disruption at every Landsmeet she attends."

"Is there a second for the motion?" asked Alistair wearily.

"Bann Lisabeth seconds the motion."

"Motion has passed." Alistair gave the Warden an apologetic smile. "I'm truly sorry but I'm afraid you'll have to leave the Landsmeet."

"Of course, my king," replied Lady Grey with a nod. "Allow me to give Walter his sword and shield back?"

"No! No!" shouted Walter from the dais, "Its ok! Keep them! I'll go s-s-s-see the quartermaster!"

The Warden shrugged. "Very well. I…apologize for the mess." She turned from the king, turned from them all, gathered her arms, and strode towards the grand entry way she had come through. She could feel the burning gazes and curious stares at her back, but she held her head up high and kept her back straight. She passed the guards at the door, nodding to them both as they stared at her with caution, eyeing the sword and shield she carried. She chuckled and shook her head at them.

"We'll have an hour recess," she heard Alistair say to the murmuring Landsmeet behind her, "so that we can get this mess cleaned up. We'll meet again with the afternoon meal." And then all went silent as the door shut and she was enveloped in the gloom of the passageway she had been brought down. All she had to do now was navigate back to her rooms, clean up, and make herself scarce.

--

Winifred and Elissa had tried to get the story from her of why she was splattered in blood when she had returned to her rooms, but Lady Grey had shook her head and kept her silence. They reluctantly found her a basin of water and a fresh change of clothes, fussing and clucking their tongues about the possibility of her getting injured or worse.

The Warden had never really minded the possibility of either things occurring, as one was a learning experience and the other was a relief.

Still, as glad as she was for the concern of the two mages, she needed some time to herself. The Warden needed to settle her mind and come to terms with the outcomes that were likely to occur because of the events that had just transpired.

That is how she came to find herself at the door to the castle library, with Dane nuzzling at her leg begging for attention. She had taken the Mabari with her for company. He wouldn't distract her or say anything to take her mind off the task at hand; he would just sit at her side silently and offer his support. He was smart enough to understand, and even smarter not to talk.

"Now," she reminded him, her hand tracing the door handle, "don't chew any of the books. They're not easily replaceable, if they are at all."

Dane whimpered hanging his head, no doubt remembering all the scoldings he had received in Castle Cousland for such behavior.

"Just sit by my side and keep me company. You can drool on me all you like," the Warden laughed quietly to herself and pushed open the door, revealing the expansive chamber that was Denerim's royal library. Hundreds of old texts were lined against the walls and in grand bookcases, while thick tapestries hung from ceiling to floor to divide the huge room into sections.

Dane's stumpy tail wiggled happily as he followed his awed mistress from section to section, her slim fingers skimming against ancient bindings. She didn't stop to pick up any titles. Instead, she weaved her way into the furthest recesses of the place until she found a secluded couch that was lit by only the faintest rays of sunlight from a window far above them.

The Warden sat on the couch, and Dane jumped up beside her, settling himself on the far end so that she could use him as a pillow. Lady Grey sprawled herself out on the seat and shut her eyes, synching her breathing to that of Dane's. The large war hound took long, deep breaths that she matched pace for pace, and she felt the fear and anxiety of the past hour's deeds slowly begin to melt away. She sorted through her memories, reliving the moments of the day, understanding and accepting each one as they passed through her mind's eye.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here, occupying the only damn couch in my section of the library."

Lady Grey's eyes fluttered open at the voice. "Loghain." She turned her head to look at him, and saw the bundle of documents he held in his arms. "I…am surprised you're still in the castle."

"I am laying low. If the Princeling finds me, no doubt he'll have my head cut off for trespassing." Loghain shifted the papers in his arms. "Are you going to move?"

"Oh." The Warden sat up, freeing up a Loghain sized space on the long couch.

Loghain moved as if to sit, but Dane had moved from his resting position and was bumping his nose against a purse at Loghain's waist, whimpering and whining, tiny tail wiggling.

"You want the cheese I have in my pocket, do you?" Loghain chuckled, freeing one arm to open the brown leather pouch and pull out a small wedge of local cheese. "Don't scoff it all down at once, don't want you getting sick now, do we?"

Dane barked happily, his eyes fixated on the yellow stub that Loghain held between his fingers.

"All right then, here you go." Loghain dropped the piece of cheese into the Mabari's waiting mouth. He watched the dog chew on it hungrily, his tongue coming up to lick at his chops as he whined at Loghain for more.

"Dane," scolded the Warden, "you've had plenty of treats today. Come here out of his way, you dopey dog."

It was with mournful eyes that Dane turned from Loghain and flopped languidly at his mistress's feet.

"He's very well behaved," commented Loghain as he gingerly took a seat beside her. "Normally you can't get a Mabari to stop once they've smelt something they want."

"He learned his lessons the hard way, unfortunately," replied the Warden, recalling Nan's furious rants about the dog. Granted, Nan had always had a soft spot for Dane, but she had not made his life easy.

"The best lessons often are." Loghain peeled the edges of the parchment away from one another, revealing varying maps of different shapes and sizes.

"What are the maps for?" asked the Lady, peering at them as he exposed them one by one. "Are you planning a campaign?"

"No, I'm just passing the time." Loghain looked at her from the corner of his eye, "the Landsmeet is taking longer than I expected."

"Is that so?" replied the Warden carefully, "I am not even sure how long they are supposed to last; I have been to so few of them."

"Yes, things were a little late in starting to begin with because the King was tied up with Chantry business." Loghain's look became knowing, "and once he entered, a duel took place. Strange, don't you think, about all the duels that are happening in Landsmeets these days?"

Lady Grey grunted. "It takes two people to be involved in a duel."

Loghain nodded. "You don't have to tell me that. I learned what it was like to face you the hard way. Not a lesson I'll forget anytime soon." He chuckled, "too bad no one else is able to learn by my example. They have this terrible habit of underestimating you, I'm not exactly sure why."

"Do you think it is because I'm a woman?" teased the Warden.

"That very well could be it," Loghain paused in thoughtful silence, "though I would never write off your own sex like that. It's probably because of your youth."

"Then it doesn't seem like my situation is likely to change anytime soon." The Warden sighed and settled back on the couch, her eyes focusing on the tiny floating dust particles in the air.

"You did the right thing, you know, if my opinion matters to you," said Loghain quietly.

"By killing the Howes or striking the blow?"

"Both." Loghain turned to regard her, his knee accidentally bumping against hers. "Men like Thomas Howe and his father fight with things other than their hands; they use words, or deceptive tricks like poison. I have no doubt that he intended to poison you in some way, to weaken and cripple you, before finally killing you. Though he may not have been expecting you as his opponent." He let his eyes wander over her elegant features, "poison works especially well on men like your brother, as they take men like him off guard. Fighters like you, however, are harder to deceive with tricks like that. You think and you plan too much. Besides," the older Warden shrugged. "Having been to and participated in more Landsmeets than you, I can assure you that if Fergus had been in your place, you both would have been banned from the chamber for the remainder of this year's session. You just happened to save his life and his reputation."

"I'm banned?" asked the Warden incredulously. "I was invited there. It isn't my fault that Howe invoked the duel."

Loghain chuckled again, "Yes, you are banned. They may never even let you in again at all, though that would be up to the king to decide. But don't worry, you aren't missing anything. You've probably been the source of the most exciting Landsmeets in the past twenty years."

"I'm not particularly pleased at being a source of entertainment." The Warden crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, that's what you get for participating in a circus like the Landsmeet."

The Warden raised her eyebrow at him. "You really don't like any of them, do you? Any of the other nobles."

"No and neither should you, if you're smart." Loghain went back to his maps, "they came to their fortunes by birth and sometimes have no sense of the common man."

"Ah yes, you were a commoner." The Lady regarded him intently, eyes dancing over his strong nose and jaw. "It is easy to forget that."

"I never forget it," he thumbed through the maps, pulling out an old map of Ferelden, its borders smaller and misshapen.

With gentle, tentative fingers, the Warden touched his shoulder to get his attention. "What do you think is going to become of any remaining Howe cousins?"

"If I were them," said Loghain slowly, facing her, "I would go very far away and try not to mention my family name to anyone, just in case it was to get back to you and you set out to find me."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're playing with me."

"Young lady, you may be no more than just a slip of a girl, but you terrify me more than any Archdemon," Loghain replied seriously.

The Warden's hand slapped his arm in reproach and he broke out into laughter.

"You are a bad man, Loghain Mac Tir. I am not as bloodthirsty as that."

Loghain shrugged, still smiling. "They don't know that. But in all seriousness, the remaining Howes will probably fade away after the example your brother set."

"They won't cause trouble for Fergus?" The Warden's eyes darted down the maps again, spotting the lands of Highever before they were Highever.

"No, they probably won't. And if they do…" Loghain let the statement trail off. "Well, it won't matter, will it?"

"No. No I suppose it won't." She drummed her fingers against her knees rapidly. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have any more cheese on you, would you?"

Loghain regarded her warily. "Maybe I do, why?"

"Can I have it?" the Warden gave Loghain a crooked, embarrassed smile, "I'm starving."


Sorry for the delay in the update! We can all blame finals for it. But look, super long chapter and a brand new rating thanks to all the violence and future smut! :D