The Dragon Queen: Beginnings

Chapter 6: Dragonfire

Hector was growing more and more restless with each day he was forced to wait and he was not the only one. The Queen of Ferlden had been encamped for three days down at the base of the Mountain of Alduin had so far had refused to leave. The Old Man had forbidden the rangers to investigate out of fear that they may stumble upon one of the patrols and in such an event the might of Gilbran could not survive the fury of the Queen's army.

At the very least he had been able to return to his old barracks which even though it was shared with five other Crows and lacked for privacy was better than his cell. Now he found himself on one of the castle's inner wall wrapped in a thick fur cloak to warn off the chill of the mountain. Before this whole affair had started he'd often found himself walking the walls as a way to calm his mind.

The night was long and the howling of the wind seamed to drown out everything else. It was in moments like these he was glad the Gilbran never had to fight off enemies like such castles were built to defend against. An entire army could be moving beneath the walls at this very instants and no one would be able to tall.

The wind howled again… Hector froze, he'd been here most of his life, but he had never heard the winds howl like that not even on the fiercest nights. The howl again and irrationally he looked upward searching for any sign of what had made that terrible sound.

"There-"

"Is that-"

Hector saw but couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. A dark shape flew through the sky to fast and too dark to see except when it silhouetted itself against the moonlight. His mind told him what it was long before he could accept it. It was a High Dragon… it must have been it could be mistaken for nothing else.

"Dragon," Hector called hoarsely feeling fear pool in the pit, "Dragon," he called out again as loud as he could barely able to believe what his eyes were seeing.

A handful of the rangers responded to what must have an absurd cry and glanced up. It was the last thing the five men would ever do as the great dragon opened his mouth and spat a stream of fire that cooked the men alive and left smoking chunks of meat behind. Hector watched fearful as the High Dragon rose back up into the air and circled around breathing fire all around the lower levels of the great fortress setting them alight. He watched in horror as the lower levels began to burn no doubt with men and women still in them.

He needed to do something he realized as he tore himself away from the horrid sight and ran for the castle doors. The armory, he thought franticly as he bound down the stairs towards the nearest cache of weaponry. Inside he found some ten White Cloaks dressing in mail, slinging longbows and gathering arrows.

They didn't say anything to him as he joined them and armed himself with a yew longbow. They were just as scared as he was he realized worriedly. The walls of the great fortress shook as again as the Dragon roared. Hector grabbed a quiver of broad head arrows and slung it over his shoulder. The White Cloaks moved out of the armory silently expect for the rare command from their leader. The stench of fear hung heavy in the air as they climbed down the steps of the tower.

Suddenly they tower shook and the wall above them on the stairs burst in. and a great clawed forelimb tore through the wall caught one of the rear White Cloaks cutting him to bloody ribbons.

"Move!" the leader of the small band shouted as the dragons pushed its head through the hole it had just made, "Get out now!"

Hector who was in the front of their column rushed through the open door at the base of the tower and threw himself out onto the thin layer of snow that coated the courtyard grounds. Two more men made it out of the tower before it was lit by an unholy light and a stream of fire thundered out the door. Over the fire Hector swore he could the screams of the White Cloaks who were being roasted alive.

Scrambling to his feet Hector fumbled for an arrow and notched it. Hector pulled back the bowstring to his ear and aimed at the dragon still clinging to the tower. He released it sending the white fletched arrow sailing through the night's sky towards the dragons flank and… it bounced off the dragon's scales without so much as scratching them.

It was enough to annoy the great lizard however as it pulled its head from the tower, unfurled its wings making it seem bigger than it already was and roared a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world.

More arrows soared through the air as the White Cloaks and assassins manned the battlements. Like his own they mostly bounced off the scales but a few struck between the natural plate armor and buried themselves in the dragon's flesh. The dragon roared not from pain, but rather from annoyance. It was like a swarm of bees attacking a bear; they couldn't kill the bear, but served to make it angrier and meaner.

Like one of the desert lizards he'd seen the dragon climbed the tower, its forelimbs and hind legs tearing great gapes of stone from the ancient tower. Unfurling its wings again the dragon took flight breathing fire at the men on the battlements below decimating their ranks.

It was useless Hector thought as the dragon landed on the still burning battlements and began tearing into the surviving men with fang and claw. With fear worming itself through his gut he ran back through the courtyard towards the keep itself hating himself for every step but knowing he could do no good out there. He was assassin not a dragonslayer none of these men were.

When he made it up the quarters belonging to the Old Man of the Mountain Hector was shocked to find the Old Man sitting alone in his chair with a glass of wine in his old withered hand starring out the window down on the hellish scene below.

"Master," Hector said, "We need to leave before the dragon raises the entire castle to the ground."

"It will not my boy," the Old Man raggedly sighed, "I have been a fool… nay the king of fools. I have have involved myself in the affairs of powers beyond my own. Look at that the dragon, at the damage it had done and you can see it is not the random act of a beast. There is intelligence behind the actions," he stretched out his hand and pointed, "See the first attack destroyed the gatehouse and now the beast draws are men away. The Dragon Queen has played her hand."

Hector gaped at the Old Man of the Mountain as he processed what he had just said, "Cecilia Theirin… she is responsible for this... how?"

He drained his glass before setting the empty cup down, "There were always rumors about her birth. It is very difficult for a Grey Warden to father a child and to the best of my knowledge no female warden has every successfully given birth to a live healthy child."

"Are you suggesting King Alistair and Queen Elissa used magic to conceive a child," he wasn't sure he could believe that. The late King and Queen had been admired by most of the continent as great heroes of the age. They did after all stop a blight and slay an Archdemon after uniting a country torn apart by treachery and civil war.

"No…," he drawled taking another sip of ruby liquid, "but an Old God is a being of immense power and knowledge and remember Cecilia was born almost nine months to the day and that day was shrouded with ill omens," the Old Man said softly, "You were too young to remember by the very same day the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux was gutted by fire killing the Divine and several Grand Clerics. The north coast Tevinter also was hit by a massive storm that killed thousands and a quake toppled the grand statue of Andraste in Antiva city. Plus," he continued refilling his glass, "consider her banner… a dragon, no monarch in their history has used dragon heraldry but her."

"It could be coincidence," Hector said warily.

"Or a song of the rising of ancient power made new," the Old Man added.

A chill descended down his spine so cold it made the fierce wind of the mountain pale in comparison. If it was true than… than what was the thing he had been sent to kill. That one of the Old Gods could walk free on the surface of Thedas? Hector was not a pious man, but he didn't want the gods of Tevinter to return.

"This is all conjecture… correct," Hector whispered. He was so fully entranced by what the man was telling him that he momentary forgot the horrors ensuing outside. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted the answer to be.

"Are you asking if I have proof… then nay," the Old Man said with a sigh, "No just my theories and the whispers of my birds," he turned to look Hector with sad eyes and said, "Now you should flee Hector the dragon comes."

With sudden realization he looked out the glass window his eyes scanning for the tarrying shape of the High Dragon, but it was nowhere to be seen.

The Old Man laughed, "No my boy the dragon on two legs comes."

XXX

Cecilia moved through the halls of the keep with her bloodstained sword glistening by the torchlight. So far everything was going according to the plan. The High Dragon had done its bloody work and tore through the assassins and their guards. Those few that remained were being put to the sword by knights of the Sovereign's Own led by Tiberius and Dakrak.

When they reached the top the winding staircase the knights began to disperse moving to secure the keep's upper levels. There were brief shouts of terror from servants and the ringing of steel when they found a living Crow before they were mercilessly cut down.

Cecilia entered an opulent chamber fit a king with her sword in hand. At the end of the room facing the window was a high back chair. The Queen couldn't see if anyone was in the chair until an old hand reached out and plucked a glass of wine that was sitting on the end table.

"I have to congratulate you young dragon," the Old Man of the Mountain said wearily, "You have brought down Gilbran and the ancient Crows of Antiva, a story for the ages no doubt."

"I mean to do far more than that old man," Cecilia laughed as she circled to the right to get a better angle. Just because he was old didn't been he was defenseless. After all the most effective assassin was not the burly young man with rippling muscles, but the old man or woman, or the adorable child… something you would never expect.

"I know what you are Cecilia Theirin," the Master of the Crows started, "a herald of doom and death. The Lord of War reborn in mortal flesh. What your purpose is I do not know, but the world of man will not be better off for it."

The Queen felt her eyes narrow and her heart skip a beat. The old Crow knew far more than he was supposed to… but whispers and blood were his trade were they not. But even if he knew he had no proof… no means to prove his words… for there was none to be had even for the Crows to ferret out.

"If that's true than why haven't go gone to the Grand Cleric or the Divine herself," Cecilia mocked and flourished her sword, "Surly a creature such as I should not be allowed to walk amongst the faithful…, but wait," he paused as if realizing some great revelation, "what is the word of a master of assassins when compared to the words of a Queen."

Slowly the Old Man stood and Cecilia saw at in his hand a gleaming jewel encrusted scimitar with a golden pommel. The curving blade of the sword was glistening with some kind of coating… poison no doubt and given the man whose sword this was she would guess it was very, very, nasty.

Cecilia shifted her stance into a two handed grip on her longsword wrapping her left hand around the pommel of the weapon. Adopting an en' guard position Cecilia temped him to strike, but the man was smart enough not to take the bait. He had to know that he would never leave these chambers alive and was hoping to take her with him and all he needed to do so was a prick on bare skin.

There was the sound of metal boots on the stone floor. The Queen spared the men a glance to confirm they were her own before waving them off. This was her fight and she would not let her men think even for a second she was afraid.

Taking several steps forward she swung her blade in a probing attack. The Old Man of the Mountain blocked her strike by deflecting it to the side and counterattacked. Cecilia parried two sweeping strikes with her sword and turned the blade aside. She stepped in towards him running her blade along his until she drove her elbow into his face.

There was a wet crack as obsidian colored plate connected with the man's face. He fell onto his back with a shout of pain and blood pouring from his battered face. She stood over the man for a second the tip of her sword at his throat.

"All to easy," she breathed as she bent a knee and with her right hand released the grip on her sword to pick up the scimitar. She gave the curved blade several experimental swings.

It was well balanced, but she could tell this was not an infantryman's weapon. With his weighted end it was best suit for swinging from horseback. This was a weapon most often used by the nomadic tribes from the far western wastelands who the Tevinters often hired as mercenaries for their armies.

By this time the Old Man of the Mountain had propped himself up on one elbow, "Just get it over with you demon whore," he hissed as the blood from his nose stain the pure white of his beard.

Cecilia tossed her longsword up in the air and caught it in a reverse grip before sliding it into its sheath. The she lowered the scimitar so the curved edge was barely touching the skin of the Crow's neck. Her eyes met his, "I am far more than a demon could ever hope to be."

His eyes widely fearful as he saw the burning gleam of her eyes through the visor slit of her helm, "No please… mercy."

The Queen of Ferelden laughed a deep laugh, deeper and harder than she had laughed in years or perhaps ever. The thought of the Master of the Antiva Crows a man with the blood of countless thousands on his withered hands asking for mercy was an irony she found hilarious. Her laugh was soon joined by the roaring laughter of her knights.

She looked down on the wounded old man of man and said, "Those who ask for mercy are often the most undeserving," and with that she made a small cut on the man's neck and waited for the poison to take effect. She was most interested in the death the old man had planned for her.

Within the first minute the man began to seize as if he taken by a demon. Within two his mouth he began to foam at the mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head and the pitiful sounds echoing from his throat died down.

"Poison," Cecilia said amusedly as she handed to the scimitar to one of her knights, "a two edged sword to say the least, dangerous to the wielder as to the foe, but it has its uses. Dawrves are awfully found of the stuff aren't they Dakrak?"

The Dwarf had entered the chamber behind her knights covered in head to with gore. "So I have read my Queen," the dwarf sated before continuing, "I have secured the archives and they are being readied for transport as we speak. Tiberius is still mopping up the rest of the garrison as we speak."

"Good," Cecilia nodded please, "Once everything is loaded put the place to the torch… I want nothing left."

"Yes my Queen," Dakrak paused and tiled his helm reminding her of a dog when confused, "Tiberius reports that he has found cells filled with children… twenty six if his counts are right."

"Slaves mostly and urchins from the street of Antiva's cities being trained to become Crows… kill them," she ordered. Dakrak bowed and made over to carry out her grizzly will went she turned and held up a hand, "Wait I want to see them. Take me there."

If Cecilia's dwarf showed any relief at noting having to slaughter children caged in pens like animals he didn't show. Silently he led the Queen towards the cells where the children were being kept. Three of her knights stood guard in front of the iron bars of the cells.

Cecilia glanced in and saw numerous children of ages from eight to perhaps nine or ten. These were children who would have one day became the assassins of the order, but they were nothing yet, until they were broken and rebuilt. The breaking down had begun but had not been finished.

"Who in the bloody hells are you," one of the boys spat from behind the cell in the tongue of Antiva.

He was a ragged little thing barely more than skin and bones, but there was a fire that burned in his eyes. Cecilia knelt down so she was at eye level with the boy, "I am a Queen," she whispered in the same tongue. "I offer all you now a choice return to return to your homes were they may be or to enter my sworn service."

The children looked at one another and she could see there little minds mulling over their options. Most no doubt had no any homes to return to even if they could have found their place of origin. They were worn and ragged, but this ordeal had been enough to teach them their lot in life. Cecilia's words were not lost on the children, if these pitiful creatures could still be called children after everything they had gone through.

"You have until I leave this place to decide your fates," she finished with a spin and headed back towards the courtyard.

Dakrak caught up to her and asked, "If I may be so bold…"

"Why did I offer then a place in my service," she offered as the completion to his words. The dwarf nodded and Cecilia choose her next words, "Some will show skill in arms and might one day make able men-at-arms, some might even be lucky enough to win their spurs. Others might show skills in the arts of the bard and rouge and might be put to use warring upon my enemies with word and dagger then with sword, shield and lance. Still others might be put to better uses as scribes and stewards."

"I think I understand," Dakrak replied.

"A pup trained since birth to obey is much more loyal than one who comes to you full grown," Cecilia said with a small smile, "they may be useful in the future."

XXX

Hector found himself once more in the position of fleeing from the swords belonging to the sworn service of the Queen of Ferelden. The last time this had happened it had been in her home, her palace in Denerim. It seemed like a cruel joke of the maker that this time it was happening in his own.

He had taken a warm wooden cloak from one of the dead men along with their weapons and what little cointhey had to make his escape. Now he slunk like a rat through the halls of what had once been his home.

Suddenly Hector froze as he thought he heard something. He closed his eyes and listened carefully and there it was two voices echoing through the corridor. Pausing he glanced around. He knew these halls probably than anyone left alive. Moving silently he positioned himself at a crossroads, hidden and cloaked in shadows. Notching and arrow he drew back and waited.

He didn't have to wait long before two figures came into view. One was a knight in obsidian black armor wearing an ornate dragon surcoat different from the ones he remembered at Denerim. Upon a closer view he realized the figure was a woman and the fact that her companion was a dwarf… could it be the Queen?

Hector calmed his breath and took careful aim with his bow at the juncture between the great helm and the breastplate. There only a thin layer of main protected the throat of Ferelden's Queen and consequently her from an early grave. For a second he hesitated wondering if he could even kill her if what the Old Man said was true.

But his hesitation lasted only a second and he let the arrow loose. He watched the deadly staft fly through the air and felt his breath catch hoping that this nightmare would be over… then he felt hisheart shatter. He didn't know how, but the Queen pivoted and in a blink of an eye caught the arrow.

Hector didn't have enough time to shout and barely enough time to dodge before the Dwarf's axe cut through the space where his head had been seconds before. The Crow dropped and rolled out of the way of an overhand strike just a hair before it split the one beneath his feet.

The dwarf was mad Hector thought as he drew his shortsword and leapt away from another strike that just missed cutting him in two. He was a bloody berserker, the Crow realized with a start. He'd heard tales of dwarven berserkers, but had never actually met or seen one and he wished he never had as he narrowly dodged another death blow that sent stone from the floor flying through the air.

Hector drove the tip forward thrusting it like a spear, but the blade was turned away by the heavy dwarven plate. The dwarf thrust forward his weapon like a spear catching Hector square in the chest. The force of the blow sent the air rushing from his lungs and violently threw him onto his back in a daze.

By the Maker's grace he recovered enough wits to roll right to avoid the great axe screaming down towards his head. Before the dwarf could recover, Hector lashed out with his right leg catching the dwarf in the calf.

The strength and position of the blow forced the leg forward and hyperextended the tendon. The dwarf went down in a colossal crash of plate and a rage addled shout. Hector scrambled to his feet and not waiting to see the results he bolted off like a stag in the eyes of a predator… or perhaps more like a crow in the eyes of a dragon.

XXX

Cecilia stood still, every muscle in her body locked rigid as she held the arrow that had so very nearly ended her life in the exact position she had caught it in. The assassin's arrow was a bare handbreadth from the visor of her great helm and her unprotected flesh.

The Queen of Ferelden was more than mortal. She was stronger and faster than any human in the entire world and had had the knowledge of the ancient dragon gods of the Imperium. Her flesh would heal quicker and resist more damage than others courtesy of the power within her, but she was not invincible. It a single horrifying moment she had been forced to recall that mortality. If she fell here she wasn't sure what her fate would be and that was terrifying enough.

The shout of her dwarven comrade as he fell woke her from her trance and she broke the arrow in two with a dry snap and tossed the ruined remnants away. Cecilia drew her longsword and strode forward but by then the Crow was gone. She blinked looked down at Dakrak before offering a shaking hand to her fallen soldier.

"My Queen-," he began as she helped him to his feet.

Cecilia fixed the dwarf with a glare that quickly silenced him and warned, "Do not let it happen again"

With one hand around his waist she helped him walk on his bad leg at a pace that was no doubt uncomfortable, but he said nothing… it wasn't his place too. The Queen was of a mood where it was best to leave her alone. The dragonblood in her veins was burning and it was best to simply leave her alone until it simmered down.

When they entered the courtyard the Queen found herself watching as her knights carefully loaded scores of books, tomes, and scrolls onto ox drawn carts. These parchments would provide critical information on rooting out and destroying what was left of the assassins. With these documents her men could track their safehouses, their movements and more importantly the banks in which they stored their coin. She'd seen them burn… all of them.

"Your Majesty are you hurt," Ser Raymond inquired worriedly as he and two other knights came upon them.

"I am fine… Dakrak is injured," she announced as she foisted the wounded dwarf on one of her knights, "What is our progress on the evacuation?"

"Tiberius has secured the last of the materials and his bringing them down now," Raymond replied.

"Good I do not wish to spend a moment longer in this place than is required," Cecilia snared angrily still unsettled by her near run in with death. "The army debarks on the morrow and as it stands there will be many a question about where we disappeared to this night. The longer we are gone the more questions there will be and I am in no mood to answer. "

And that was true. In the middle of the night she had taken nearly a fourth of the strength Sovereign's Own and rode off away from the camp telling the lords that she was taking this patrol personally. If any of them had any reservations about the Queen leading some fifty odd knights, squires and horse drawn carts out of the encampment for a 'patrol' they had wisely kept silent.

The Queen was about to dismiss the knight when he noticed him staring at her hand. She glanced down and to her embarrassment she saw her hand was still shaking. Clenching her hand into a fist she glared up at Raymond, "Is there anything else Ser?"

"No, your Grace," Raymond said quickly and thumped his armored hand over his chest and bowed before turning to take his leave.

Cecilia mounted her horse and took the reins from the squire who had been tending to the steed. The warhorse snorted and raked the ground with its hoof. The stallion was impatient, impatient as his master. It knew it did not belong here and resented not being among the bloodshed where such a charger belonged.

Patting the side of the mighty destrier as it snorted again, Cecilia whispered calming words into its ear and slowly it steadied itself. The Queen waited as the last of the documents were loaded and Tiberius mounted up next to her.

"The last of them have been prepared for transport," Tiberius said as he settled into the saddle.

Cecilia regarded her general with an appraising stare. The general was covered in gore from head to toe and had removed his great horned helm. The man had an unholy gleam in his eyes from the slaughter he had led. More than any man she knew, more than even herself Tiberius loved the thrill and blood of battle.

A smile flittered across her face. Tiberius had a bloodlust in him that would have been worthy of the Disciples of Argon back in the glory days of empire. The disciples had been an ancient cult in the Old Imperium that were devoted to the Lord of War and reveled in bloodshed and slaughter. They that been the militant arm of his temple and amongst the fiercest warriors of Old Tevinter. Every kill, every drop of blood spilt had been in the Dragon God's honor.

An image flashed through her mind of the Day of Blood in Old Tevinter. In the ancient arena that still stood today thousands were sacrificed in a single bloody day, in a veritable orgy of violence and death, for the Dragon's pleasure. She could literally smell the sickly sweet coppery flavor of blood as it wafted up from the arena sands.

A jolt of pleasure went through her as the memories swam before her eyes. It was hard to explain the feeling of thousands of men and women fighting and dying, spilling their life's blood to sate your lusts and yet it unsettled her. The Dragon God of War was more than simply bloodlust and rage; it was also ice as much as fire. Warrevealed in strategy and planning, in the cold satisfaction of watching your plan unfold knowing there is nothing your enemy can do to stop you. It was a conflicting dichotomy of Fire and Ice that had made Argon among the most feared of all the Old Gods.

It was what she was and what she had to be… fire and ice; otherwise she was just as dangerous to herself as she was to her enemies. She was less than useless if she herself surrendered to her bloodlusts. It was a fine trait in her servants because she could control it, shape it, direct it and release it where and when she chose.

"We are ready," Tiberius's voice brought her back from her memories.

"Good," she said as she started at the burning remnants of the Crows fortress. For a moment all she did was stare at the burning castle; its silhouette reflected eerily in her eyes. "Let us leave this place."

As she said that she glanced down and saw that her hand was still shaking. Cursing she clenched her fist tight around the reigns in anger; ashamed of such a visible weakness. With a sudden jolt of realization she recognized that she was afraid… for the first time in a very long time she felt claw at her insides. With effort she pushed the feeling down and put it aside focusing on what she had to do next.

XXX

"My Prince the Queen's party returns and she commands the army to make ready for departure at first light," Ser Renly the second in command of the de Gendarmerie de l'Impératrice said as he entered the Prince's Pavilion.

Charles awoke groggily from his slumber and stared at the Chevalier who'd awaken him from his slumber. When the realization of what the man said hit him Charles straightened up, "Thank you Renly. I will be out in a moment."

Went the young noble left Charles donned his gilded armor and attached his sword belt, but eventually decided to leave his helm and shield behind. He'd been confused when the Queen had taken a good number of her knights out on a patrol, but had decided not to bring it up. After all Cecilia was Queen and this was her army, she could choose what she wanted to do.

Throwing back the flap of his pavilion Charles stepped out into the cool dawn air. The Orlesian Prince rolled his neck and stretched his taught muscles as he took in the organized chaos of the army camp being broken down as some fifty thousand men and women, knights, squires, men-at-arms, common footmen and archers made ready to march.

He made his way through the city of tents towards the Queen's own Pavilion and found Teryn Cousland waiting outside with several of his knights, Arl Chester, Arl Tegan, Bann Renault, Marquis Montfort and others. They were carrying on an animated conversation which very promptly fell off when the Orlesian Prince approached.

"My lords and ladies," Charles intoned with a bow of his head, "I hear our Queen returns from her outing."

"Aye," Arl Chester shouted slamming his fist into his palm, "I for one am glad to be on the march again. We should not have tarried here as long as we have."

"I am afraid it was necessary my good Arl," the Queen sounded from behind all of them, "but now we are ready to continue once more. I want you all back with your men making ready to decamp."

One by one the nobles left until only the Prince and the Teyrn remained. Charles watched as the Queen dismounted from her jet black stallion and the Teryn gave his niece a warm embrace. He said something to her in a low tone that Charles couldn't make out, but from the look on the Queen's face it wasn't well received. The Queen clapped her uncle on the shoulder and said something back The Teryn didn't look pleased at all, but in the end he clapped his niece on the shoulder and left shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

Cecilia made her way towards him and offered a slight smile, "My uncle worries for my safety."

"As would any kin," Charles responded with a smile of his own even though he knew it was a lie. In a way it was heartwarming to see such concern shown. He had no doubt his brother and mother cared for him, but neither would ever show it… much less in public, "He cares for you… you are his sister's daughter after all."

"I have endured much worse than a scouting mission, but alas…," she trailed off as she pulled back the flap of her tent and beckoned him to follow.

Charles followed the Queen into her tent, saw her take her seat at the table and promptly poured herself a glass of amber liquid and motioned the Prince to take a seat. He did and when she offered him a glass he did not refuse. The drink went down hard and burned as it did… Ferelden brandy was course stuff he mused as he set the goblet down on the desk.

He sat and gathered his thoughts on how to frame his next question. Finally he spoke, "My Queen if I may be so bold… exactly what were you doing last night."

The Ferelden Queen smiled in her cup before lowering the goblet and saying, "Taking the first steps of my revenge my good Prince." She paused and cast a glance over her shoulder, "You see at the top of that mountain rests the ancient fortress of Gilbran… does the name have meaning to you?"

Charles searched his memories for any reference to the name. After several long seconds of deep thought a fleeting memory did pass through his mind. He remembered a conversation between the head of the Orlesian spy network a wiry little man who went by the codename "Le Tenn" the Sneak and his mother's privy council about three or four years.

The meeting had been on the clandestine conflicts between the bards in the service of the Empress, the bards in service of the other nobles of Orlais and of course the infamous Crows of Antiva. As the leader of Orlais martial armies charged with the defense of the empire he also had to be aware of the subtler struggles going on both within and without of the borders of the empire.

He remembered very little from the meeting but he did remember the name "Gilbran" being mentioned by Le Tenn in regards to the Crows possible as a base of operations for the assassins, but little beyond that. To the best of his ability he couldn't remember if the old sneak had discovered anything more about it.

"I have heard the name before," the Prince admitted, "at one of my mother's privy council meetings but nothing beyond that."

"I thought as much," the Queen said as she stood from her chair and stalked her way over to him gently swaying her hips as she did.

Charles felt his eyes go wide at the sight. Very few women could pull off such movements in full plate armor and still inflame a man's lust, but obviously Cecilia could and did it well. Throwing her leg over his lap she straddled him and before he knew what was going on she had her lips pressed against his.

Moaning into her mouth he brought his hands around to rest at the base of her spine. "Well this was unexpected," Charles sighed when he finally opened his eyes. He'd had many women in his life… human and elven, but somehow none of them had ever been has satisfying as a kiss from this woman.

"We are betrothed are we not," she whispered against his lips before pulling back away, "Now as I was saying about Gilbran…"

The Prince blinked confused by the rapid shifts, "Yes… Gilbran," he whispered hoarsely as he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her back towards him.

"Naughty," he heard her says as their lips connected again he felt a growl build in his chest as she ground herself into him, "Anyway… Gilbran is… was the headquarters of the Antivan Crows."

"Was," he questioned when he broke for air.

"As in it is no more," she whispered into his ear, "I made sure of that."

This time it was he who pulled back, "You sacked a castle with fifty men," he asked incredulously. Perhaps more impressive than that was she took it in a single night.

A siege was perhaps that most complicate part of warfare as it took weeks or months to properly starve out a garrison or skilled engineers to construct the siege equipment to bash down the walls. If one did assemble the equipment necessary to take the walls by force conventional wisdom dictated that a force of three to one was needed for success.

Of course the simplest method was to have a traitor on the inside to open the gates for you but that ran its own risks. Somehow he doubted that the Queen could turn one of the assassins against their own and if she could… he suddenly regarded the woman straddling in new light. He knew she was dangerous and intelligent, but this… he smirked he swore he was falling in love.

"You are an amazing woman Cecilia," he whispered huskily.

"I know," she whispered back and let her hands wander. After what seemed like forever she drew back, "I have a request for you."

"Name it."

"To join de Montfort in the vanguard with your Chevaliers," she answered, "I need someone I can trust at the van. The Marquis is competent enough, but I need more than competent at the head of my army."

"Of course my Queen… whatever you command," he said and founding himself meaning every word of it.

A sly smile drifted across her face, "Well for now I command you to stay here," she said as she dipped in for another kiss.

XXX

For the second time this year Hector found himself on the run from the Maker dammed Queen of Ferelden and her barbarian hordes. Wrapping his scavenged cloak around him he slinked his way through the forest. He'd already dodged on Ferelden patrol and wasn't willing to test his luck against a second.

Briefly he considered heading westward towards the Free March cities of Kirkwall, Starkhaven, Ansburg or he could even head all the way to Nevarra or Orlais if necessary. It would take longer than heading to any of the Antivan cities, but it would mean abandoning his mission. If the Old Man's contact in Antiva was right than he night be able to prove that the Fereldan Queen had set this all up.

If he proved that then… well he wasn't sure what he'd do exactly. Perhaps he'd go to Kirwall… after all they weren't on very good terms with Ferelden right now. With luck he might be able to convince the Viscount who might then take it to the Divine herself. He laughed… and perhaps Andraste herself would descend from the heavens and smite Cecilia with the Maker's holy fire.

Suddenly he was interrupted from his revelry by the unmistakable sound of a twig breaking underfoot. Her froze listening to the sounds of the forest before unsling his bow. Notching an arrow he crept slowly through the underbrush and grit his teeth when he saw what he was up against.

In a clearing in the wood was a Ferelden knight in a dull grey plate armor wearing a surcoat emblazoned with the golden twin laurels of House Cousland and mounted on a dark brown steed. Around him were five men, one in partial plate and chain wearing the crest of Dragon Peak, and the other four also wore the seal of House Cousland over chain mail armor.

A knight, his squire and four men-at-arms, all mounted out on patrol. Hector cursed under his breath. He drew the bow back taking aim at the knight before deciding against it. He had been lucky so far in his encounters with the Fereldans and didn't want to tempt fate any more. He turned to flee when to his utter shame his foot landed on a twig.

"What the-," one of the men shouted.

Hector swore aloud and spun on his heel quickly took aim and let the arrow fly. The broadhead arrow flew through the air, missed its intended target, the knight, and slammed into the throat of the squire sending him toppling from his mount.

"There… kill the bastard," the knight shouted as he drew a morningstar and brandished it over his head.

The men-at-arms didn't hesitate, drawing their longswords and spurring their mounts into action. Hector quickly notched an arrow and let it loose towards the first of the men-at-arms, but the warrior managed to get his kite shield up in time and the arrow imbedded itself harmlessly in the wooden barrier.

Hector notched another arrow and retreated deeper into the woods where the horsemen their speed and maneuverability would be for naught. Spinning around he loosed a third arrow sending it soaring towards the horsemen. The arrow flew true and struck one of the men-at-arms in the shoulder sending him ass over head from his mount.

He wasn't foolish enough or arrogant enough to believe he could take them all out by himself. Tossing his bow away he turned and ran drawing them deeper into the forest with the horsemen riding hot on his heels. He glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the Highever knight charging down on him, his mace held ready to deliver a deadly blow.

Not hesitating Hector dove to right just before the knight's mace passed through the space he had just occupied. He hit the ground and rolled with the momentum out of harm's way. Pushing himself to his knees he bolted off in the opposite direction of the knight. He ducked between the two mounted men-at-arms and made off for his prize… the squire's horse.

He ignored the shouted obscenities the men-at-arms bellowed when they realized just what the Crow was planning, but by then it was too late for them to do anything. The assassin leapt onto the back of the steed and in a quick movement spurred the horse forward as hard as he could.

The squire's mount was a strong and well bred horse, faster and more nimble than the heavy destrier the knight was riding as it was burdened by the weight of a fully armored knight and the weight of the horse's own armor, but better than the beasts the men-at-arms were riding. Hector was confident that he could outride the knight and men-at-arms should they choose to give case and abandon their unconscious comrade.

Without glancing behind him Hector turned his steed North and put his horse to flight. He had a long ride ahead of him until he reached the Antiva City and knew the quicker he got to the city the longer he'd have time to look for the Old Man's contact before the Ferelden army arrived.

XXX

Once more the army of Ferelden was on the march. A miles long column of men and horses made their way up the Antivian coastline. At the front of the army in the vanguard were the men of Oswtick and the Orlesians under de Montfort and Charles respectively.

Though the likelihood of attack by any significant force was small Cecilia had taken no risks. She had deployed her army with her horse on closest to the sea and then the infantry on the outside. The less valuable infantry would serve as shield to protect the horsemen from any attack until they could counterattack. Also as it stood marching with their sides to the sea would protect their right flank and provide easy resupply from their shadowing fleet.

Near the center of the marching column was the Queen and the Sovereign's Own , their dragon banners fluttering majestically in the lazy sea breeze and their black armor glistening under the midday sun. In the center of all of it rode Cecilia with Tiberius on her right and Dakrak on her left.

"What will become of the dragon," Tiberius asked as they rode.

Interrupted from her thoughts about the thrice escaped Crow she turned her head slightly to face him and answered, "I have gifted the creature with the castle to use as its lair if it so chooses."

"It could still be useful," Tiberius muttered, "A dragon is a powerful creature and its use on the battlefield or in a siege…" he trailed off as his Queen gave him a tired look.

"And how would I explain that I have a dragon at my beck and call," she queried fixing Tiberius with an annoyed glared. I may win the battles on the field but I would lose everything else I had gained. Dragons are often associated with the Imperium and their gods and it not something I want to have my name linked to… yet."

As she finished she glanced up at the red dragon banner fluttering in the breeze and felt a smile touch her lips. Perhaps it was already too late for that she mused before shrugging. It certainly couldn't be helped now.

"You right of course," Tiberius said with a grudging sigh. No doubt he had been imaging the army cutting a bloody swathe through the continent with a dragon at their back.

"I am more concerned at the moment with the Crow who escaped from the massacre," she added darkly, "from the news that reaches my ears he escaped not only from the fortress but managed to elude one of our patrols."

Tiberius shook his head, "The man leads a charmed life that much is certain and its was your uncle's men he slipped away from killing a squire from the peak in the process," he paused, " from the description he matches the man you fought in the keep… and the sole surviving member of the assassination team that infiltrated the Royal Palace back in Denerim."

The Queen regarded her general coly. She had heard the former but not the latter; but then again she shouldn't be that surprised. Ever since Denerim she had been plagued by the feeling that that man's escape would come back to haunt her.

"The dead squire?"

"Ahh… a nephew of Sigrid I think from the Dragon's Peak," the general said without the slightest bit of remorse in his tone, "the Bann has be a loyal friend and comrade and among the first to join your campaign you should send your condolences on his loss."

"I believe that would be prudent," she agreed. She gave it though and remembered that the Bann of the Dragon's Peak and his men were near the rear of the column with her uncle and the might of Highever where they could protect the column from attackers that might think to ambush him. "You have command general."

"As you command my queen," Tiberius answered thumping his right fist over his heart.

Tugging the rains of her steed she turned her horse around and bellowed, "I am heading to the rear!"

Immediately four of the knights led by Ser Raymond and Dakrak broke off from the main body of horse and formed up behind her. Two of the knights, Raymond and the third knight, moved up to take protective positions in front of her, while Dakrak took a position at her right and the final knight, Ser Edward who bore her banner, took the left.

Riding between the column of horse and the sea they made their way down the line. The Queen smiled as she watched the might of Ferelden Chivalry pass in neatly ordered ranks. Though not the premier army in Thedas and far from the greatest in history Cecilia was still proud of the force she had assembled.

In time she swore it would be the equal of any army past or present. From Minrathous to Vax Royeaux to the Wilds of the far south, there would be no force greater than the one she would command. As the Lord of War it was only fitting that she commanded the finest fighting force in the realm and she would be the one to forge and temper it in the upcoming battles that they would face.

Yes… everything was going quite nicely.