Of Bows, Foes, and Alcoves Chapter 9 - Eavesdropping

Author's Note: This chapter turned out a bit longer than my usual ones, at around 3k words. Apologies for that - but nothing could be taken out or moved. My beta says it goes quickly, though! SO glad to have Ms Sticha back!


One of Garevel's scouts rushed into Emilia's office. "The King approaches, messere!" the young man enthusiastically informed the Warden-Commander.

Without hesitation, Emilia ceased work on the letter she was writing to Fergus and marched out of her office, thanking the scout as she passed him.

Alistair entered the gates on his steed, accompanied by a royal guard. As he approached, all who saw him bowed, including sound of shifting weight and feet landing on stone indicated that Alistair had dismounted his horse. "Sister," he spoke to Emilia in a confident tone, his voice granting her permission to stand. The others in the courtyard rose after she did. The Warden-Commander nodded to Garevel, who motioned for the others to return to their business. Alistair opened his arms wide and smiled. Emilia let out a chortle and folded into his firm and friendly embrace. He kissed her on the cheek and playfully whispered "from another mister!" into her ear. Emilia laughed and patted him on the back. Alistair squeezed her in their embrace, making her petite frame lift from the ground. She absolutely hated it when he did that, and though Alistair had no experience growing up as a younger brother, he was quite the natural at it; he knew what pestered her and did it anyways.

Emilia's feet hit the ground as the king released his friend. She then voiced a proper greeting. "It's good to see you, King Alistair." Many eyes were still on them in the courtyard, and Emilia made sure to keep up appearances, always treating the king with the respect he deserved in public. She would get back at him later, privately.

"I knoooooow right? It's been forever!" Alistair exclaimed.

Emilia fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. He might be the king now, but he's still the same silly man he always was. "Alistair, it's scarcely been a month since I visited Denerim last." Emilia had spent most of the past six months after the Battle of Denerim helping to rebuild Highever with Fergus. Eventually, she was called to the capital by Alistair and assigned to Vigil's Keep.

"Yeah, but considering six months ago we were always within ear-shot of each other, it feels like a lot longer."

"Fair enough," Emilia giggled.

A mabari barked from behind Alistair. "Good boy! You recognized her from the painting!"

Emilia blinked and stared at the young hound.

"Happy early nameday!" Alistair grinned. "I know how much you missed Oliver, so I had this guy trained for you."

The mabari barked happily at Emilia and looked up at her, as if awaiting orders. Emilia smirked and took the tiny dagger out of the scabbard which clung to her waist (she never went anywhere without some sort of blade, no matter how small). She widened her stance to an offensive one and smiled, the dog drooling as it followed suit. She carefully lunged at the pup, who dodged her attack with ease. Emilia sheathed the dagger and knelt beside the hound. "Good boy, Oscar!" The mabari rolled onto his back, exposing his belly for her to rub.

"Ha!" Alistair exclaimed. "Called it!"

"Called what? In what way am I predictable?" Emilia questioned, turning her gaze to the king as she pet her new companion.

"Oscar," Alistair snickered. The hound looked at him as if he was already familiar with the name. Alistair knew many things about Emilia, including that she always gave her dogs names beginning with the letter "O."

As the three headed further into the keep, the young mabari traveled ahead. Emilia noticed the ginger color of his coat - uncommon for mabari. It was nearly the same shade as Alistair's hair.

"Alistair?" Emilia asked, receiving a simple hum in response. "Did you pick this mabari because his fur is the same color as your hair?"

"Maaaaaaaybe?" Alistair teased. Emilia swiftly punched him in the arm. The pair laughed heartily - she was the only person in all of Thedas who could do that and get away with it and they both knew it.


Nathaniel was enjoying the Howe Bow so much that he only took a break from archery to eat. He now understood Oghren's warning that his appetite would grow in the coming days. The dwarf was surprisingly nowhere to be found in the dining all this afternoon, leaving Nathaniel with just Anders. The two made simple conversation, talking about their respective skills and where they came from. The mage did not ask Nathaniel about his relationship or past with Warden-Commander Cousland, which he was thankful for. After the pleasant chat, Nathaniel felt the possibility of a growing friendship with Anders. He was beginning to accept that being a Grey Warden was his life now, and having a friend would certainly make the transition easier. After lunch, the archer headed back outside to continue practicing with the Howe Bow, basking in the warmth that the sunlight brought to the cool early-spring afternoon. His skill had grown as an archer over his many years in the Free Marches, and now it was finally complemented by a fitting bow, which he would be gladly to spend the entire day getting reacquainted with.

Thanks to Commander Cousland. Shock hit Nathaniel as he realized what he was thinking. Grateful feelings for the return of a family heirloom clashed against the anger over his father's murder. Not wanting to dwell on it, or her, he forced his concentration into his practice. He grabbed an arrow from his quiver, notched it in the bow, drew it back, and released the first arrow of the exercise towards the target. Pleased with his immediate bullseye, he wondered if he would manage to split that arrow this afternoon.

Emilia had snuck up on Nathaniel twice in two days, causing him to realize he needed to practice keeping his other senses more attuned while being preoccupied. Though she was a particularly talented rogue, he ought to not let her catch him off guard again. A rogue should sense a rogue, after all. He split his attention by listening in on the various conversations happening in the courtyard as he trained - and one in particular caught his attention.

"That's really Nathaniel Howe? He looks much older than the last time I saw him," one servant noted. Nathaniel chose not to let the comment about his age upset him. Thirty is still plenty young. Another arrow hit his target.

A second servant, one with a familiar voice, responded to the first. "It's been nearly a decade. I wonder if he even knows Lady Delilah is alive."

Nathaniel's arrow missed the target completely that time. Without hesitation, he stopped his practice and approached the pair. Upon seeing the faces of the elves who were chatting, Nathaniel recognized one of them an elf named Samuel, a gardener. Given Nathaniel's affinity for the outdoors, Samuel was one of the servants Nathaniel got to know better. As the flustered archer approached them, the elven servants' eyes widened slightly.

"My sister is alive? Samuel - do you know this for certain?" Nathaniel tried to hide the desperation from his voice, but it had morphed into an edgy tone.

The elf smiled. "I'm pleased your remember me, master - I mean Warden Howe," Samuel fumbled over titles. He cleared his throat and continued. "And yes, I'm certain. My relatives in Amaranthine say she is married to a merchant there."

Having much to consider, the Howe kept his response short. "Thank you, Samuel," he voiced with as much warmth as he could muster.

Nathaniel returned to his exercise, unable to take his mind off the exciting news. I must see her. Another arrow in the target. But I can't leave Vigil's Keep without consent from the Warden-Commander. The next arrow landed towards the bottom of the painted circle of hay. But we're going to Amaranthine tomorrow, maybe I could ask her. This time, the projectile only grazed the target; he was distracted. Would she even agree to it? And if so, do I trust her to not kill my sister on sight? What if Delilah is hiding because she helped father? Knowing his concentration was ruined, Nathaniel approached the end of the range to collect and recycle his arrows. There's no use trying to see Delilah without Cousland's consent - she doesn't trust me as it is, and a secretive personal outing in Amaranthine would be rather suspicious. The archer carefully pulled the arrows from the hay. He remembered Emilia's closing words from the night before: "I'm not the cold-hearted killer you think I am." He considered the mercy she had shown the prisoners in the basement, the chance she gave him, and even her kindness at giving him the Howe Bow. As he placed the arrows back into his quiver, he finally reached his conclusion. I have no choice but to trust Warden-Commander Cousland if I wish to see my sister. Wanting to take advantage of her recent generous nature, he headed straight back inside to find her in her office.


Emilia sat at her desk, Alistair in the the guest chair, and Oscar at Emilia's feet. The door to the office was closed; finally the close friends could discuss things of a private matter.

"So, how do things go with Anora?" Emilia asked Alistair. A few weeks after the Landsmeet, Loghain's death, and Anora's imprisonment, Alistair had a change of heart. He knew she was a capable leader, one the people loved, and offered her a choice; prison or marriage. The queen had been taken aback by such an unexpected suggestion, and after mulling it over for a day or so, accepted Alistair's proposal. The transition had not been an easy one.

"Oh, you know, she still kinda hates me for executing her father and all." Alistair replied in a light but matter-of-fact manner.

Emilia let out a short, annoyed groan. "I can relate."

"Yeeeeah, about that," Alistair started. "You know what - no - other business first. That later," the king changed the subject. "I know the situation here is not ideal. I received your letter requesting aid."

Emilia nodded. "The forces we currently have cannot protect the keep, the city, and the farmlands. Darkspawn have begun to terrorize the countryside; the bannorn will surely be asking for my help when I meet with them in three days time."

Alistair folded his arms across his chest, relaxing. "We've had an increase in people joining the ranks since the Battle of Denerim, but still haven't quite made up the ranks from our losses. I'll spare what I can. Hopefully that number, combined with reassigning some of the soldiers in Amaranthine will suffice?"

Emilia responded in a grateful, diplomatic way. "Any aid is appreciated, thank you, King Alistair."

"Good, let us move on to the next subject - your rebuilding the Grey Wardens." The king went on to jokingly jab at Emilia for recruiting Oghren. The Warden-Commander made a joke about how he actually somehow smelled better now with the taint than he had without it, causing Alistair to erupt with a loud chuckle and give an amused declaration of "good one, Emmy!" Next, the king noted how much Emilia had managed to piss off the Chantry by conscripting Anders. She reassured Alistair that it was worth it; the healer had been invaluable in securing the keep and would certainly continue to be an asset to her team.

Alistair's previously light-hearted nature dissipated and was replaced with a frown. "That brings us back to the Howe."


Long, light, yet purposeful strides crossed through the Great Hall of Vigil's Keep. Nathaniel would allow nothing to stop him in his quest as he headed to the Warden-Commander's office with newfound resolve. He had to make this request before he changed his mind. He had to see his sister. Blinded by his focus on the task at hand, Nathaniel was ignorant of the extra guards filling the Keep and standing by the stairwell. Surely due to his confidence, the guards stepped to the side and allowed him passage to the upper levels without question. A stiff guard stood in front of Warden-Commander Cousland's office at the end of the hall. Upon noticing Nathaniel's approach the guard relaxed slightly as if relieved to see him.

"Thank the Maker they finally sent someone," the guard sighed, grateful for Nathaniel's arrival

From inside the office, the hearty laugh of a man could be heard, followed by the words "good one, Emmy!"

Then it finally hit Nathaniel. The extra guards. The heraldry on the one standing in front of Emilia's office. Royal Fereldan heraldry. The king is in there with her. How did you manage to forget that? He scolded himself for being so short-sighted. Deciding to play along, he raised his eyebrow and addressed the guard with a low, but still conversational voice. "How can I help you, ser?"

The guard replied in an equally slightly hushed tone, not wanting to disturb the conversation happening inside the office. "I just need to, eh hem, relieve myself. I won't be long," the guard informed Nathaniel.

"Take your time," the sly rogue replied amicably.

The guard nodded in reply and stepped away from his post, allowing Nathaniel to fill it temporarily. As the Howe moved closer to the door, he felt an odd sensation. A sort of warm tingling coursed through his blood, and he almost felt a pull towards the inside of the room. Nathaniel dismissed the feelings, wanting to focus on the conversation occurring inside. The king's voice was clear, if not too loud for someone of his stature to be speaking in a closed-door meeting. I'm sure Cousland will teach him a thing of two about that. Emilia's voice was harder to hear, but not impossible for Nathaniel's fine-tuned senses. He had spent years learning to block out other sounds and focus on what he was listening for while hunting.

"Conscripting a prisoner? Really Emmy?" the masculine voice questioned.

Nathaniel felt a pit in his stomach. They're talking about me.

"I had no choice, Alistair!" Emilia defended herself.

"Why, because you had some silly crush on him when you were a kid? You had a choice, Emilia. You just didn't want to take it."

"I-" Emilia sighed heavily. "He has valuable skills. Archery. Survivalism and hunting. Stealth. Poisons." She changed the subject. She didn't address the accusation of past feelings for me.

The two continued arguing. "Oh great, so you accept a Warden into the ranks who is sneaky, knows how to kill quietly, and wants to kill you. That sounds like a wonderful idea, 'sis."

"This is no different than when we brought Zevran along with it during the Blight," Emilia retorted. There had been no pause before her reply; she was quick witted, and the conversation reminded Nathaniel of the one Emilia and he had before she conscripted him.

The king sounded as though he had anticipated this reply. "Yes it is, and you know it. Well, other than the fact that you have feelings for them both." The clamour of fists on the desk. The bark of a mabari. A masculine, frustrated sigh. "Personal feelings aside, invoking the right of conscription on your first prisoner sets a bad precedent. What of it when the bannorn finds out?"

"It was struck from the records," Warden-Commander Cousland finally spoke again. That's surprising, Nathaniel noted. He didn't let his thoughts distract him as she continued. "I know how to deal with the nobles, Alistair. I've been one longer than you."

The king's response to that insult was was certainly not what Nathaniel would have expected. Most people he knew would have put her in her place. Reminded her not to talk down on them. But not King Alistair. "Yeah, well, I've been a Grey Warden longer than you so -" a sputtering sound came from inside the office. Did the king just blow raspberries at the commander?

Emilia attempted to stifle a snicker, but instead erupted into true, uncontrollable laughter. The king happily chuckled along with her. The petty insults and immature noises followed by the sound of hearty laughter brought a vague old memory to the front of Nathaniel's mind.

"You wouldn't know Howe to do it!"
He couldn't believe it. The five-year old daughter of his dad's best friend had made fun of him using his name.
"Yeah, well...you act more like a boy than a girl!" The eleven-year old Nathaniel attempted to get back at the teryn's daughter.
"So? I'm tougher than you any Howe!" The tiny brat blew a raspberry in his face, followed by a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Nathaniel had to give the kid credit - she was pretty clever for a girl of her age. Rather than be insulted, he laughed along with little Emilia Cousland.

"What're you smiling at, eh?" The guard's voice brought Nathaniel back to the present. He erased any pleasantness from his visage and scolded himself for being distracted by memories of her. She was someone else then, he insisted to himself. The laughter from Emilia and the King had just died down, and Nathaniel heard Alistair say "but really" just before the guard opened his mouth to thank Nathaniel. The soldier's voice drowned out the sounds from inside the room and ruined the rogue's opportunity to continue to listen in. With the return of the guard, Nathaniel no longer had an excuse to dally in front of the Warden-Commader's office. He took his leave, vowing to himself to ask Emilia about seeing Delilah on their way to Amaranthine the next day.


A/N: I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

PS: I'm working on an AU fic based off this one - in which Emilia and Nathaniel grow up betrothed to each other. It won't be slow burn like this. ;)