So much shorter than I would have liked it to be but I am desperately short on time, will check for grammar later. 3

Bound behind his back, the blood mage also was occupied by a Templar at each soldier and three guards standing behind the chair that seated him. Alistair didn't want to risk him escaping, ,nor have to deal with the lot of them being turned into a soupy mush for him to jump start his powers with. Regardless of the outer appearance the near becoming dirt man looked, power had a tendency to linger in the oddest of places.

They were in the middle of the dungeons, essentially and unofficially deemed, "The Torture Room". Alistair had not used it since he was brought into the line of secession and dust clung to many of the atrocious looking tools. While he really wasn't keen on using torture as a method, this man, thing, whatever he was, was a special exception and he would do whatever possible to get the information he feared, but yet so desperately yearned for, out of him.

Looming over the man, he looked down upon him the hardest most facial features, a look in which he may as every well have been the Maker himself. "What is your name?" His voice bounced off the walls and the young King couldn't even begin to imagine what the screams must sound like when the room was brought into its proper use.

Looking unimpressed, the aged fellow stuck his tongue out from the rotted cave it inhabited and licked his crinkly looking lips. "Good question," the old thing seemed to be deep in thought, the place where his eyebrows would be blending into a mass of wrinkled concentration, "I suppose Aeden would do, that is what I remember them calling me a century or so ago."

"And when did you begin corresponding with Loghain?'

"The very first time?' He blew air out from his mouth, "Well let's see...you're what, twenty two? Twenty three? And this was long before Maric managed to impregnate another women besides his ill stricken wife.. I don't even think the legitimate son was born at that point, or Anora even. Thirty years ago, perhaps?"

"You knew my Father?" Alistair couldn't contain his curiosity, wishing for any connection to the man he never knew.

"No, Maric was much too proud to ever rely on the darker arts of the world. Had he known of Loghain's connections he would have disowned him faster than he did you. You're Father liked to win, but in a much more diplomatic way." He grinned, more gum than teeth.

"I'm not exactly sure what that is supposed to mean coming from you."

"Not all monsters are born corrupted, boy. Sometimes the first evil acts one does are in the name of righteousness."

"Rightttt, well, anyhow. When were your most recent connections with him?'

"Before the poor bastard got his head knocked off. Sad thing, really, he was so certain he would manage to knock you and Aurora out of the throne. I suppose he did find success in riding one of you, though. Probably would have much more liked you to marry his barren wench of a daughter, but beggars can't be choosers."

"So when I found Aurora in his bed, it was what, an attempt at ruining her claims to virtue?" Alistair had to bite down on his tongue to keep the anger from flowing free and freshly into his tone.

"A Queen with question chastise is no good for a throne, especially with a kingdom that was in such a fragile place as Ferelden was at that time. Say you would have married her still, made her your Queen. Then almost a year later, you have an heir. His paternity would be questioned, so much so that he would never have a strong support from those he ruled over one he seceded you. Monarchy or no, without a population that respects you, all can be lost quite easily. I mean, what where the chances of Loghain and his daughter making it into reigning over this country? As soon as you and the last known living Cousland popped up, whispers began. The last son of the adored Maric, the last daughter of the beloved Bryce, not to mention Aurora being well loved by the people just in her own right. What chances did he stand? So he took a last action, a last hope."

"How did you two it, how did you converse in a such a way that you were able to do this so last minute? Loghain and I's duel was out of no where, we had no idea we would be sleeping in the same castle that day."

"We spoke in the Fade, surely you aren't so dull as to know how that works."

"Cut the shit. How did you get her in his bed?" He spat the words, jaw clenched and putting one hand on the chair Aeden sat in.

"You have no idea how easy it is to slip into someones head, when they sleep and the cracks are just wide enough in the Fade for you to gain entrance. I know her better than you ever did in a year, than you ever will in a lifetime," the old man sneered before continuing, "You know, my favorite memories I could hold of while in their were those ones about this one man, what was his name...Who? No, no, no...What? Mmmm, still not right...Ah ha! Howe. Not the ones where he massacred her whole family like overly fattened hogs, oh no, the ones where he would sneak into her quarters at night and-," Abruptly so, the man was knocked backwords and his nose relocated into a no longer very comfortable posistion, which happened to be thanks to Alistair's fist.

He felt undone, like ever carefully attached rope within that kept him from boiling over the edge into oblivion had just snapped. His fists shook, the left hand containing pulsing and bleeding knuckles. He would fear Aeden would somehow be able to use his blood magic, if it were not for the fact that he completely knocked the bag of bones clean out of consciousness.

"Alistair," Teagan spoke softly behind, setting a hand gently on the young King's shoulder.

"I want search parties out for her, immediately. Send them to Highever, question every soul you can find on the pathway there. I want her found."

Teagan hesitated a moment before nodding, "Yes, of course, your Highness."