Dragon Age- A Thedas Tale

by IAmElvie

This story is being written for fun; my AU. It is not canon. It will span before DAO through all three games and then we will see. If you know me, you'll know I've added my own flare and chars to the story which can change the way NPCs think or feel. Some DA2/DAI players will be met sooner. As always, mature readers only. Story begins in the Western Hills with something unexpected.

10. A Thedas Tale Ch10 - Civil War

Dragon Age

A Thedas Tale

Ch 10 – Civil War

"I'm not giving up the fight!" Darling bellowed as she strapped on her armor, emblazoned with crest of her Bann. Her mother had turned the bannorn over to her. As Bann, it was her duty to fight for her home. Loghain may have thought he'd won, but the fight was not over.

"Please, sister!" Lorwynn tried to tug the daggers from Darling's hand. "Our father's dead, our mother is grieving …our defenses routed and many of our soldiers killed. If you go after Loghain's men…I'll lose you too! This is madness! We are all Winter's Breath bannorn has left."

Three bannorns had banned together to fight Loghain's push and they'd lost. She pulled away from her sister and sank the daggers into their sheaths. "Do you honestly think that self-proclaimed regent is going to allow us to keep our titles…our lands? He will not be content until he's a goddamned emperor of Ferelden! Father should have listed to me. Now, we fight back my way." She quickly braided back her pale blonde hair and tied it with a piece of soft leather.

"Then I'm going with you!" Lorwynn huffed, tucking her dark blonde hair behind her ear.

Darling's brow furrowed with a frown at her sister. While just as talented with a bow as she was, she did not want to see her almost fourteen year old sister going to battle. "Our mother is not well, you need to make sure she is eating and taking care of herself. And I'm relying on you to take care of Caer Wynt while I'm away – it is your duty."

Her fists clenched impotently. Now that her sister had brought honor and duty into it, she had to concede. "So help me, if you die I will kill you."

She hugged her sister tightly. "I'm too stubborn to die." With a last look at her little sister, she strapped on her quiver and flung her bow over her shoulder before making her way down the stairs. She located Bann Loren and Bann Franderel in the Greathall and sat down next to them on the bench. She settled her forearms on the table. "I have new tactics for the battle."

Bann Loren took a sip of ale and wiped his mouth with his hand. "There is no battle. We've lost."

Her bright blue eyes narrowed on the Bann. "Do you honestly think that...asshole is going to let us keep our titles or our lands? Do you think he will let us live? He won't. He knows that so long as we live we will never bow to him; he'll need to give control of the bannorns to his own men. He may have won the battle, but the war is not over. I have no intention of laying my head on the chopping block for him. He will not have my bannorn! Will you cede him yours?"

Franderel exhaled harshly. "What would you have us do, child?"

She knew her look was hard, she knew she had to prove herself. "I am Bann Darling, not child. You would do well to remember that."

Loren laughed, nearly choking on his ale. "You're darling for sure-"

Her dagger was out, pricking his neck. "And you would be wise to silence your tongue. If you think me inadequate to fill my father's shoes then choose your champion. But don't choose one you wish to lose."

Loren blinked, feeling a drop of blood slide down his neck. When she pulled the blade away he wiped the blood off and brought his finger to his mouth. "You have a great deal of spirit. I know you can fight, I saw you at your father's side. But what you are suggesting is suicide. We do not have the men left to meet Loghain on the field of battle."

"And so we won't. Honor is important but so is survival. And right now, if we intend to keep our lives and our lands then we fight for survival. I will take warriors and engage him head on after nightfall. You both take your archers and mages – strike and slip away. Do not engage. His men will lose moral as more of them die by an enemy they cannot see. I will only send a line of soldiers to confront them, the rest will have crossbows and shield walls. When you hit them from behind, my warriors will slip back and change places with one of the rows of shield wall bearers so that their wounds can be bound and fresh warriors will advance to take on Loghain's men. Just before the dawn breaks the sky we will slip away and return to the safety of Caer Wynt, where the mages can heal our men and rest. Scouts can warn us if they move to attack the keep."

"Loghain would torch the villages during the day," Franderel pointed out.

She shook her head. "Our people have already been moved into the keep – but Loghain's men no longer have him to bolster them. One of my scouts saw him and a group of knights riding out last night. He considers the battle here won. That is a lesson he will learn the hard way. I think his men will be more concerned with ambush than destroying villages. And perhaps we should send a few men out during the day to continue to pick at them and keep them distracted. Then we will hit them hard again come nightfall. We'll continue this until they either leave or decide they're going to hit us before we can hit them again. If that happens then I will hit their front while you both hit their flanks. By the time that happens, we should have evened out the playing field."

Loren nodded, surprised by the young Bann's strategy. "What about Commander Wicks?"

Her grin was icy cold. "He's mine…and he will feel my kiss. It is too bad he will not live to regret killing my father."

Franderel sighed and raked a hand through his thinning grey hair. "Your strategy lacks honor, but it is sound. And you are right; it is not about honor now – but survival. I agree to your strategy, young Bann."

Loren took another swig and slammed his tankard down. "Then we stand. I will not hand my head or my lands over to that traitor."

"So let it be," she replied with an incline of her head. "Then we should advise our men and make ready for nightfall."

She looked up at the half-moon and nodded. It was time. She threw a crested, long blanket over her large, white gelding, Beaumont. She buckled on his leather lined armor after saddling and bridling him. The steel armor lined with leather kept their movements nearly silent and it also kept him covered so his white coMarig did not stand out like a gleaming beacon. The other two Banns had already left with the archers and mages, as they would have a further distance to go.

She mounted and moved to the front of the column of soldiers. They were on foot, but she was mounted for a reason. She could aim well from the back of a moving horse and she intended to ride back and forth across the field to distract the enemy. Being mounted would also give her the distinction of a high-ranking general and although that placed a target on her it would also serve as a distraction, because taking out the leader can be the difference between winning and losing a battle.

They'd taken out three scouts before they could see the glow of the enemies' camp fires. Arrogant asses. All the better to see you. She raised her bow and took out two archers standing guard before a cry broke the enemy's camp. As men began to rise to the call of battle her men struck with a rain of bolts. Then battle cries echoed in the night as her first line of soldiers ran to engage the enemy.

When the other two Banns loosed their arrows, she took off across the field drawing attention to give her men the distraction they needed to slip back into the trees to swap places with fresh soldiers. Any enemy that pursued received a crossbow bolt for the trouble.

At the first hints of dawn they retreated back through the trees, covering their retreat with a bombardment of bolts. They'd lost six men that night, but the enemy had lost far more. All in all, it was a success. But they knew the enemy would be prepared the following night. They were in four hour sleep rotations. Two smaller groups of archers were sent out to hit the enemy from different sides. When they returned two more groups were sent out. They did not want to give the enemy time to think…only react.

By the end of the third night they'd lost a total of twenty one men. But the enemy had lost over 200. It was a horrible waste of life with the darkspawn tearing up the south, but they would die before they would let tyranny rule the bannorn. There was little sleep come the fourth morning; the enemy was on the move. She swung up on Beaumont's back and nodded at the two Banns that were going to flank enemy. "This is it! For freedom!" she yelled as she raced off towards the enemy line. She gave Beau his head and pulled her bow.

As the battle progressed, she kept Beaumont on the move, knowing she was a target they would not let escape. Her saddle bags were full of arrows. While she could fight with her daggers, she could do far more damage with her bow. A sharp whistle drew her attention. With a glance back at the battle she sped towards her army's flank. She spun Beau around when mounted orlesian chevaliers burst forth to engage Loghain's men. One separated and rode straight for her. She nudged Beau's sides and moved in to meet the man, her bow drawn. She lowered it when the man's hands stayed well away from his weapons.

Cyril was stunned to discover the woman that led the bannorn army was breathtakingly beautiful. He pulled off his plumed helmet and settled it onto his lap. "I am Lord Cyril de Montfort. A Grey Warden from Ostagar stumbled across us and told us what happened. I sent a couple of men to Chateau Haine to seek reinforcements. But I sought to offer our assistance with that dishonorable blackguard...provided you do not turn us away."

She had to force her gaze from the attractive black haired, light blue eyed Lord to look out over the battle. "Considering your men are already engaging Loghain's I can hardly turn you away." Her eyes lifted to his. "I'm Bann Darling Mari Telmen of Winter's Breath Bannorn. Do you fight as beautifully as you look?" she teased and then wheeled Beaumont towards the battle.

He grinned and settled the helmet back onto his head. "Oui, Darling…I believe I do," he murmured and kneed his white gelding after hers. He withdrew his sword and tried to keep his mount, Luc, between her and the battle. On more than one occasion he lost sight of her during the skirmish. He yanked his sword from a soldier and spun Luc around when he saw her mount launch itself off the top of a small boulder and over the heads of the enemy below it. He reined to a stop and his mouth fell open when she jumped from the saddle into the fray, her daggers drawn. "Mon dieu…Darling…no…" He drove Luc through the center of the remaining enemy line, his sword slashing at everything as he worked his way towards her. He saw three men fall to her daggers, heard her whistle, but they were closing in around her. His own men were riding hard towards him. He leaned to the left, caught her around the waist and pulled her up in front of him as his men encircled them, fighting their way back out of the thick of the battle. He caught sight of her mount alongside his and realized she'd called the armored horse to her. Still, he was furious. That was not a well thought out escape.

She knew she'd bitten off more than she could chew, but when she caught sight of Commander Wicks, fury took the place of wisdom. She'd killed the man that killed her father, but without Cyril's intervention she wasn't sure if Beau would have made it to her on time. His arm was like a vice around her. She noticed his men returned to the fight while he rode on into a copse of trees before pulling to a stop.

He yanked his helmet off and dropped it on the hook on the side of his saddle. He dismounted and pulled her down with him, careful to keep his mount between the battle and them. He spun her around and gripped her arms. "Qu'est-ce que tu foutais? Es-tu fou?" He shook his head at her blank look. "What the hell were you doing?"

She looked up into the fury of his light blue eyes and wondered why he cared at all. "Dancing with death! Look, I saw Commander Wicks and lost it. He killed my father a few days ago and I swore I would kill him!"

"Did you succeed?"

"Yes!"

"And then what, Darling? You were going to die for your vengeance? Is that what your father would have wanted?"

She tried to pull back but he wouldn't release her. "No! I knew Beaumont would come for me. I told you I lost reason! Why do you even care what I do or what happens to me?"

She'd given her mount an Orlesian name; perhaps she was not averse to everything Orlais. "Perhaps, belle cherie, I am a jealous suitor and do not wish to share you with death." He knew he was laying everything on the line with those bold words, but with the blight swarming over Ferelden, time was not something they had a lot of.

Suitor? Her gaze slid from his mesmerizing eyes down to his chiseled lips. When they parted with a breath her eyes darted back up to meet his. This time, his blue eyes were dark with something other than fury. "You wish to court me?"

Her bright blue eyes had warmed and he wanted to drown in them. "Would you allow me the honor, cherie?"

"It's Darling," she reminded him.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Would you allow me the honor, my Darling?"

She could feel the heat crawl into her cheeks. He'd made her name sound like a caress that sent shivers down her spine. She pulled back and mounted Beau to put some distance between them. "We have a battle to win, my Cyril. I will give you my answer afterwards." She wheeled Beau around raced back towards the battle, pulling the bow from her shoulder.

"Merde…" he grumbled when she took off again, but still he could not wipe the grin off his face. He mounted Luc, slid the helmet over his head and chased after her. He bellowed a battle cry and drove into the fray, eager to put an end to the battle.

Less than an hour later, what remained of Loghain's troops threw down their weapons and surrendered. They were marched off the battlefield to spend time in Caer Wynt's dungeon. Wounded from all sides were taken to the courtyard where cots and bedrolls were set up. Guards were posted to ensure all wounded were treated with care. The villagers were released to return to their homes. She showed the chevaliers to the stable so that they could take care of their mounts. She left her mount in the care of a stable boy so that she could check on the wounded and instructed him to attend to Cyril's mount as well.

Her sister caught up with her in the courtyard. She hugged her tightly before turning to introduce her to Cyril. "Lorwynn, I'd like you to meet Cyril. He and his men helped to end the battle faster than it would have otherwise ended. My sister has been seeing to Caer Wynt during the war."

"We appreciate your timely assistance," Lorwynn told him and held out her hand.

He bowed over her hand, brushing his lips lightly against it. "The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle."

"Lorwynn, please show the chevaliers to their rooms in the keep – they are currently over at the stables. They will have to double up since we are also housing the nobles of two other bannorns. Have all the servants heating water and filling tubs in their rooms. I'm sure they will all welcome a bath before supper's festivities."

Lorwynn looked from the handsome orlesian to her sister and grinned. The man had a hard time keeping his eyes off Darling. She knew it might ruffle feathers, but she didn't care. The war was over before she was even born. "I'll see you in the Greathall."

She spent a moment at the side of each of the wounded, thanking them for standing at her side and letting them know that supper would be brought out to them soon. With that done she rose and felt the heat of his body at her back. For just a moment, she nearly gave into the need to lean back against him in exhaustion. With a slow release of breath she motioned him to follow. "I'm heading to the Greathall, I'm sure the other Banns are already toasting to the victory. You know…"she said, giving him an impish grin. "You never did kiss my hand."

He picked up her hand, her glove covering it down to the first knuckles of her fingers. "It was hidden from my lips." He pulled her to a stop. "Perhaps I am permitted to kiss something else instead?"

"My cheek?" she asked softly.

"Close…" he murmured and lowered his head to brush his lips against hers in a slow, seductive glide. He forced himself to pull back and be the gentleman he was. For a moment time was suspended as he lost himself in the heat of her brilliant blue eyes. "We should go inside before I forget that we are not alone."

His husky voice caused heat to pool between her legs. Her body swayed towards his until his words sank through and she blinked and turned away with embarrassment. "Of course."

He took her hand and leaned down to her ear. "Do not be embarrassed, my Darling. You have the same effect on me," he admitted before releasing her hand and following her into the keep.

As expected, she found the Banns and their nobles laughing and drinking.

Franderel stood up and clapped her on the shoulder. "Your father would be proud of you! Marvelous strategy! No doubt we'd have routed those bastards even if the orlesians didn't show up!"

She forced a smile. "That is most unkind. I am thankful they arrived when they did. It surely saved a lot of our men's lives and I'm most grateful. Bann Franderel, Bann Loren, I'd like to introduce you to the chevalier's leader, Lord Cyril de Montfort." The men gave their grudging respect and returned to their boisterous drinking. She shook her head and sighed. "Come on, let's stop at the armory and then find you a room."

She led him to back on the left where the armory was and removed her armor and weapons to be cleaned and sharpened. She stretched out the kinks while she waited for him to finish. When she looked over at him she noticed he was staring at her and she looked down to make sure underarmor wasn't torn. Everything looked okay. She looked back over at him but he was busy removing the last of his armor to hand it to one of the servants to clean and repair. Her gaze traveled down his body and she blushed when she saw the bulge in his pants. She knew it was likely a codpiece, but her cheeks still flamed. Her eyes darted up to his and was even more embarrassed when she discovered he'd caught her looking. She turned and hurried quickly out of the armory wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. What must he think of her brazenness? She'd seen men in their underarmor all her life and she'd never once ogled one of them. Oh, sweet hell. Had she heard him chuckle?

She met her sister at the top of the stairs. "Which room is free?"

"Yours, mine and mother's…where, oh where, should be we put him?" Lorwynn teased, noticing her sister's flushed face.

Of course. "He can use mine."

Lorwynn looked up at the handsome orlesian. "Are you sure? I'd be willing to share."

Darling rolled her eyes. "Off with you, now. See how supper's coming. We need to make sure the wounded and the prisoners are fed before we dine." She shooed her sister with a playful swat to her backside. Still unable to look at him, she motioned for him to follow. "This way."

He'd been caught off guard by her form fitting underarmor. It was lightly padded, rather than bulky and it clung to every curve. He'd wanted to cover her up so no one else could see her, but at the same time he wanted to look his fill. And he did as he followed her down the hall.

She opened the door to her quarters and showed him in. "My room is yours until our guests clear out." She jumped when the heavy door closed itself and turned to look up at him. "Unless you intend to leave tomorrow?"

A slow smile spread on his lips. "I find I am in no hurry to depart." He took her hand and raised it to his lips for a lingering kiss. "For how can I court you, my Darling, if I am not here to do so?"

She looked from her hand to his lips. "I think I prefer something else…" She blinked and spun around when her cheeks flooded with heat. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Since he had not released her hand she was not sure what she was supposed to do. She was treading in unfamiliar water with him.

It took him a moment to realize what she'd meant, that she was referring to their earlier conversation. He pulled on her hand to bring her back around to him. He settled her hand against his chest, slipped one arm around her waist and cupped the back of her head. "So do I…"

She felt the fan of his breath against her lips and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. His mouth nuzzled the corner of her lips, before she once against felt the tantalizing feathering of his breath against her. By the time his lips touched hers she was nearly starved for it. They molded against hers, warm and pliant, sensual and seductive and when she felt the wet heat of his tongue tease the crease of her lips, they parted in a breathy moan. With the first slide of his tongue against hers she was drowning in new and delicious sensations. Her hands slid up his chest to circle around his neck to hold him to her. His arms answered by tightening around her and she could feel the hard press of his codpiece against her belly. She reached down to move it into a slightly more comfortable position and stilled when his body trembled and his breath came out in a harsh groan.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, trying to rein in his need for her. He wanted to make love to her, but he could not. His ingrained sense of honor and chivalry would not let him touch her unless she was his wife. The press of her lips and flick of her tongue against his neck nearly sent him to his knees.

"Take off your codpiece," she murmured against his neck. "It's very hard against me."

He cupped her face and brushed his lips against hers. "Tu seras la mort de moi. Je veux te faire l'amour jusqu'a ce que le dernier souffle glisse de on corps." He released a ragged breath at her questioning look. Her blue eyes were dark with passion and her lips swollen from his kisses - it was all he could do not to kiss her again. "I am not wearing a codpiece. What you feel is…my desire for you."

She blinked to clear her thoughts. "What? Not a…and I…Bloody hell…what must you think of me…I – I am so sorry." Her cheeks stung with mortification and she pushed at his chest to get away. She wanted to go hide…maybe in her armoire…maybe not come out …ever…

He kept his arm clamped around her waist; his softly kissed her pink cheeks before capturing her mouth in a tender melding of lips and tongue until she melted against him. "I feel no embarrassment in how my body responds to you." Another gentle kiss. "There is no embarrassment from your touch." His lips grazed hers once more. "I crave your touch more than I ever dreamed possible." He kissed a trail to her ear. "I will woo you until you accept my troth." His tongue flicked the shell of her ear and his teeth grazed the lobe of her ear before his lips worked their way down the column of her neck. "And then I will cherish you until the last breath slips from my body." He nipped gently at her neck. With her cry and the tug on his hair he raised his lips to capture hers.

He broke the kiss and brought his lips to her forehead. His body was trembling with a hunger that was ripping away his control. "Get your things, my Darling and take your bath while it is still warm. It is not safe for you to tarry any longer, at least not right now."

Despite his words, he seemed in no hurry to release her and for that she was glad. She wasn't sure if her shaky legs could hold her. "Safe?" she whispered.

A shaky breath slipped from his lips. Blue eyes bore into blue eyes. "I am honor bound not to touch you until you are my wife. And right now I need to make love to you more than I wish to breathe. If you do not leave now, I fear my honor will fail us both," he admitted.

She thought the idea of giving her innocence to a man would frighten her but instead his words curled warm in her belly. Her hands slid up under his shirt to caress his skin. "And if I want to stay?" she asked softly.

He shivered when he felt her nails skim down his chest. "My Darling…I am trying to do what is right and honorable. I swore to give my chastity to my bride and you are sorely testing my resolve."

She slipped her arms around him, pressed the side of her face against him and held him close, her fingers playing over the soft skin of his back. "And you want me to be that bride?"

"Épouse-moi hier ... épouse-moi la semaine dernière ou mets-moi hors de ma misère. Je ne souhaite pas passer une journée sans toi avec moi. Oui, my Darling. None but you."

She smiled softly and then pulled back to look up into his light blue eyes. "I do not want an empty, noble marriage. Ask me again when you love me and I will give you an answer. Until then, my Cyril…you better have eyes for only me." She rose up onto her toes and brushed her lips over his and then went to get her clothing for the evening.

His hand rose to his heart. "None but you…" he murmured as the door closed behind her.

-BREAK ONE-

She did not hear his parting words, but she was eager to see him again. Perhaps he would even choose to dance with her. Clothes! He had nothing to wear! He could hardly dine in his underarmor. He was a visiting dignitary, a duke's son. She instructed the servant in her sister's room to have a manservant take one of her father's suits to her chambers for the Lord to wear. It wouldn't be a perfect fit, but it was far better than the alternative. With that done, she sank into the cooling bath water. His kisses had been worth it.

She really wished she knew the orlesian tongue. It really sounded like he said far more than he translated. Cold water had forced her from the bath sooner than she would have liked. She ran her hands down her gown, looking at herself in the mirror. The bodice molded to her breasts and waist, the neckline dipping to display her cleavage. The skirt flared slightly after fitting to her hips. She slipped into healed slippers and ran her fingers through the long waves of light blonde hair that she'd freed from her braid. She lined her eyes with a touch of kohl and ran her teeth over her lips to give them more color.

Lorwynn grinned at her sister. "Look at you…all dressed up to impress the orlesian lord," she teased.

"Oh hush! Just wait until you meet someone that makes your heart flutter – I will tease you to no end!" she warned her sister. "I don't suppose mother will be joining us?"

"No," Lorwynn said quietly. "I already had her meal sent to her room. "It doesn't feel right to celebrate with papa gone."

She drew her sister into her arms. "He would be proud of our victory. He'd have been the first to toast to freedom. So we will celebrate to honor him." When they left Lorwynn's room, her sister nudged her and pointed behind them. She turned to see Cyril, dressed in her father's suit and boots, leaning against the wall.

He straightened and stared at the vision in front of him, his heart slamming hard in his chest. The outfit was a little snug and he'd been forced to leave buttons undone down to his chest; he'd folded the sides back and creased them as best he could, but it was a far sight better than underarmor. He walked slowly towards her, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and lift her skirts as he kissed the swells of her breasts. He cleared his throat. "Mon dieu, tu es l'air que je respire. You are breathtaking, my Darling."

She grinned when he took her hand and drew it through the crook of his arm. She ran her finger down the exposed skin of his chest. "And you are as beautiful as you are daring. Though I'm glad it…mostly fits. Still…I shall enjoy the scandalous skin you are displaying," she teased.

He brought her errant fingers to his lips and lowered his gaze to the swells of her breasts. "And so shall I." His gaze moved to her younger sister. "Lorwynn, you are looking lovely this evening." He held his other arm out to her as well and walked both young ladies down the stairs and into the Greathall. He located a free spot at one of the long tables. He felt comfortable seating Lorwynn next to the young chevalier. He had joined them only recently but was already proving himself to be a devout and talented chevalier. He settled between the women and helped them fill their trays from the platters that lined the table.

Michel glanced over at the young woman that sat down next to him. When she looked up at him he froze, her silver eyes shimmering in the candlelight. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I'm Ser Michel de Chevin and I would be honored to have your acquaintance."

She smiled up at a man that put all others to shame. Blonde hair swept back from a tanned face…chiseled cheeks…square jaw…sculpted lips and blue eyes that put the sky to shame. "I am Lady Lorwynn Telmen, if we are to be so formal. And you, Ser, are the most beautiful man alive. I would quite imagine that you have ladies everywhere swooning at your feet."

He could feel the heat burning in his cheeks. The other chevaliers had teased him for years, calling him pretty. But her words did not irritate him, rather they warmed him. "Please…call me Misha. And to be honest, I've had very little experience around ladies. I have been in training for a number of years. But, I would not be averse were you to swoon."

Her grin widened. "I shall keep that in mind, provided you promise to catch me good Ser. It would be quite undignified to end up in a heap on the floor."

He chuckled. "I would never allow that to happen, my Lady. The floor does not deserve such beauty to adorn it."

"But your arms do?" she teased.

"My arms would be honored by such a boon, my Lady."

Not only could she spend the rest of her life just looking at him, but he made her shiver all over and had the manners her mother would approve of. What more could a girl want? She placed a hand on his forearm. "Please, call me Lorwynn. I do not wish such formality between us."

His cheeks warmed again. "As you wish, my L – Lorwynn."

Her hand slid down his arm, her finger playing over his hand, her eyes alight with mischief. "Perfect! Then I'm yours and you may call me your Lorwynn anytime you wish, provided you mean it," she teased.

Darling leaned over in front of Cyril, her breasts resting on his forearm. "Lorwynn you will send him running to the hills with such forward talk!" she hissed softly.

The young woman had surely knocked him for a loop and he'd yet to regain his composure. Even so, she intrigued him like no other. "You will find I am not so easily frightened, my Lady."

Lorwynn nodded her head and turned to her sister. "I want him. He makes my heart flutter and makes me all warm and tingly inside. My bloody nipples are so hard they ache. You told me Cyril makes you feel the same way. So, if you can have your Cyril then I want my Misha."

Darling's mouth fell open and her cheeks flamed. She turned away and looked down at her plate before closing her eyes in abject mortification. Her sister's blunt outspokenness would surely be the death of her. She could feel the heat of Cyril's gaze but could not bear to look at him. Not after what her sister had said.

A wicked grin settled on Lorwynn's face. She probably should not have said what she had, she often spoke before thinking, but with her sister and Cyril no longer paying attention to her she turned back to look up into Michel's baby blue eyes. "Do you want me, Misha?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he said hoarsely. His composure just slid out the door and he wondered if he'd ever get it back…at least around her.

Her tongue slid out to moisten her upper lip. She saw his gaze lower to watch and her core clenched. "Do you want me as your own?" she asked in a voice bordered husky.

He swallowed hard. "Mon Dieu, oui…yes."

She picked up a ripe strawberry from her plate and held it to his lips. After he took a bite she slid the rest into her mouth. "They say strawberries are aphrodisiacs…do you wish to have another?"

A shaky breath slipped from his throat. "As tasty as they are, I have little need of that sort of…help. And perhaps it is better if I abstain."

She grinned and settled her hand on his thigh, above his high boot, her fingers absently tracing patterns on his soft underarmor. "And if I do not wish you to abstain? What if I want to feel your skin against mine? What if I want your lips to worship every inch of me? What if I want to feel you inside me?"

She had finally managed to bring him to his knees. "Tu me tues, mon cheri. Je veux faire l'amour avec vous, but I would never dishonor you."

She wasn't sure what he'd said, but it sounded beautiful. She cupped the far side of his neck and pulled his ear down to her mouth. "Then marry me."

His heart turned over in his chest. She did not know who he really was. He dreaded telling her the truth about himself but he would not dishonor her with lies. "Eat and we will talk. If you still wish it, then we will wed." He could only hope that she would keep what she learned between the two of them, regardless whether she married him or not.

Darling looked over at her sister and the young man that seemed to be wearing an eternal blush. She could certainly sympathize with that. Her sister could be a force to be reckoned with. Whereas her own blushes were mostly self inflicted. Except for the last horrifying remarks her sister had made to her. She still wasn't able to look at Cyril.

When Cyril noticed Darling was done eating he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "We must talk, my Darling."

She rubbed her warm cheeks, nodded and rose. "Come, we will adjourn to the ballroom." When he held out his arm, she slipped her arm through it and kept her eyes forward as she led him to the adjacent ballroom, where soft melody was being strummed. It was a relief to be away from the boisterous Greathall, but that meant she was nearly alone with him and she still couldn't face him.

His gaze dropped to her cleavage and then to the tight tips of her breasts, a steadying breath slipped from him as he pulled her into a slow dance. "Tu es un temoignage de mon honneur, mon seul et unique cheri." His hands tightened at her waist, knowing she'd bolt at his next words. "I know that your sister's words discomfited you, but I am pleased that I make your heart flutter, that you are warm and tingly and…ache for my touch." When she squirmed in his grasp, he slipped his arm around her waist to ensure she would not bolt with her embarrassment. "Non, my Darling…do not run from me…from us. There is much I wish you to hear from my lips."

"May I cut in, Darling?" Devon inquired.

"No," Cyril replied, his gaze cold and his jaw clenched. He wanted blast the man for daring to call her Darling, but it was an illogical instinct because it was, in fact, her name.

She glanced up surprised by Cyril's icy tone. She turned to look at the attractive Lord. "I'm sorry, Lord Devon, as you can see I have a partner. Please recall that I refused your suit."

Devon stiffened at the insult. "But you would accept the suit of an orlesian, my Lady?"

"An orlesian that risked his life to save mine," she pointed out.

Devon flicked a piece of lint off his doublet. "I'd have done so, had I been aware your life was in danger," he replied tightly. "Your father approved of my suit."

Defiance flashed in her eyes. "But I did not and my father accepted that, Lord Devon. I apologize if you felt slighted, but I will never accept a marriage of convenience." Indeed, her parents had made several trips with Bryce and Eleanor to Orlais. They had been able to leave the past buried in the past and harbored no hatred of Orlais. She knew neither of her parents would have issue with Cyril.

Devon frowned. "Such a flight of fancy, my Lady. Surely, you do not expect an orlesian to declare love for you. Stop acting the foolish child. Our match would strengthen both our bannorns."

"Enough!" Cyril growled, putting himself between Darling and the Lord. "The lady has made her lack of interest clear. And this orlesian has already declared himself to the Lady. I intend for the banns to be posted come Sunday, so you will stand down, Lord Devon, or you will answer my challenge."

Devon squared his shoulders and inclined his head. "Then I apologize for the intrusion. I shall take my leave, if you will excuse me," he said tightly.

"Of course, Lord Devon. Please enjoy your stay at Caer Wynt," she said politely. She watched him walk away and worried that might not be the end of things. When Cyril resumed the dance she looked up at him. "You did not need to lie."

This time it was his cheeks that grew warm. "I do not lie, my Darling, though mayhap I was over enthusiastic. That was not how I intended to declare myself to you. You bade me to ask you to wed when I loved you. You have had my heart from the start, my Darling." He stilled his feet, brought his hand around to take hers and he knelt down in front of her. "Bann Darling Telmen, will you consent to be my bride?"

Her hand fluttered over her heart as she looked down into light blue eyes that were filled with promise. She reached out and drew her fingertips down his cheek. "I will," she answered softly. She giggled when he picked her up and twirled her around. His lips met hers when he lowered her to the ground. "We must speak with my mother and then we can…post the banns."

-BREAK TWO-

Widow Darling slipped the parchment back into her lockbox on her desk and rose weakly to her feet at the knock on her door. She smiled at her eldest daughter who rushed in to hug her.

Darling eyed her mother's nearly untouched tray and the now loose fit of her dress. "Mother, you need to eat more."

Widow Darling patted her daughter's arm. "I will when I get hungry – I've not been feeling well." She looked up into a familiar face. "You are Prosper's son – Cyril, is it?"

Cyril bowed before the older Darling. "Oui, I am, indeed. It is a pleasure to see you again, my Lady Telmen. Your daughter, Lorwynn, favors you, madam. For that is how I remember you when last we met."

Her hand rose to just below her throat. "I must apologize for not greeting you properly upon your arrival."

"There is no need for an apology," he assured her. "I am aware of the circumstance and you have my condolences for your loss."

Her hand fluttered back down to her side to lock tightly with her other one. "I have been informed that you and your chevaliers assisted my daughter and the other Banns in regaining control of our lands. For this we owe you a boon. What would you ask of us, Lord Cyril?"

A smile spread on his lips. "We require no boon, as such, for our aid. When we heard news of the dishonorable actions of Teyrn Loghain and the blight, we immediately came to offer our aid. I have sent word to my father and expect reinforcements soon. I know we are not exactly welcome in Ferleden, but the blight threatens all of Thedas and we must stand together to defeat it."

"Would that all men felt as you did, Lord Cyril. And while you require no boon, as Lady of the Keep, I must insist. Your intervention saved the lives of our remaining men and my daughter as well," she said, glancing pointedly at her child. Her lips twitched but a smile did not form. "It would appear my daughter is a born leader. After we lost the battle she rallied the remaining men and whittled down the enemy forces until they sought to burn down one of our villages. She did not tolerate that and she led the charge for freedom. Your arrival could not have been more timely…it was as if the Maker himself had a hand in it."

"Mayhap he did, my Lady. A Grey Warden, a survivor of Ostagar, stumbled upon my chevaliers late one eve. Were it not for him, we would have been unaware of your plight or the blight. I sent him on to Chateau Haine for reinforcements. Maker willing, he survived the journey. But my men and I stand by regardless. The only thing I would ask of you is your continued hospitality until we journey to Denerim and…the hand of your daughter. She carries my heart, my Lady, and I do not wish it back."

His words could not have shocked her more. She studied the Lord and her daughter and noted the looks they gave each other. Their eyes glowed with feeling. So it was a love match. And it was a good match. Her daughter would be a duchess one day, even if she had to live in Orlais. "It is obvious this is more than a match for alliance or convenience and you have always been a young man of character, Lord Cyril. It is a sound match and I approve." Her gaze slid to her daughter. "You do realize that when you… leave for Orlais the bannorn will go to your sister?"

That was a given. Darling nodded. "Of course. She is a capable young woman, if a bit headstrong. But with the right grounding influence I think she will make a wonderful Bann."

She could see the mischievous glint in her daughter's eyes and wondered about it. "Is there something I should know?" she inquired with a tilt of her head.

Darling laughed softly. "I imagine Lorwynn will be by shortly to-" She turned her head at the sound of the door opening. "Sooner than I thought." She beamed a smile at her sister and Michel and moved to the side so they could greet her mother.

Lorwynn hugged her mother and promptly introduced her to Michel.

She studied her youngest and the man whose hand she clung tightly onto. While his cheeks were pink, his manner was calm and assured. They had the same glow about them as the older children. "I see…the grounding influence…" she murmured. Her gaze rose to Cyril's. "I do not know of the de Chevins. Do you vouch for the family and this young man?"

Cyril inclined his head. "I do, my Lady. His family has always served Orlais with distinction and Ser Michel is an exemplary chevalier – one of the best I've had under my command. It is unfortunate I will be losing him, but he will be a valiant and honorable protector of the bannorn."

Michel could only look on in shock. "But I thought…"

Cyril cocked a brow. "Did you wish to leave your wife behind for months or years at a time?"

He blinked. He'd wanted nothing more than to become a chevalier since he first found out it would be possible. He had not even considered a life without that duty. He looked down at the woman that had knocked him asunder and then back at his commander. "No, of course not, my Lord."

"Then I will submit your leave from service after the blight has been dealt with," Cyril informed him with a grin.

Widow Darling nodded and then turned to look at Michel. "Is there something you wished to ask me, Ser?

"Yes, my Lady, of course. It would appear that events have unfolded rather more backwards than I expected. I ask that you allow me Lorwynn's hand. I shall prove my worth whilst I work to pay the dowry."

She held up her hand. "The dower I will request from you is not monetary, but personal. My husband and I birthed no sons and no one to carry on his name. What I request from you is that you allow the children of your union to carry the name Telmen-de Chevin. Do you agree with the stipulation of the dower, Ser Michel?"

He knew he should balk such a stipulation. He knew most men likely would out of familial pride, but the name he was trying to create for himself in Orlais no longer mattered if he was to reside in Ferelden. And since he was elf-blooded and not of noble descent, it mattered even less. He saw the fire leap into Lorwynn's eyes and knew she was about to defend his honor. He'd told her of his past and the name he was creating for himself and was both amazed and relieved that she simply didn't care. He squeezed her hand. "I consent to the unique dower arrangement, my Lady. It will be an honor to pay homage to my new family and country in such a manner."

Cyril's brow furrowed. No mention had been made of his dower. "Would you like-"

One corner of the widow's mouth pulled up ever so slightly. "Your dower will be monetary, Lord Cyril."

"Of course, my Lady," Cyril responded with a hearty laugh.

It was a relief to know that both of her daughters would be protected and cared for. "The banns will be posted forthwith. Now, if you will please excuse me…I am exhausted and would like to rest."

Darling's mouth tightened. "Of course, mother. But you will eat in the morning – you've got two weddings to plan."

"Oh, she will eat or I will sit on her and feed her like a babe," Lorwynn warned.

"I'll eat – Now, get out of here," she said as she shooed the children towards the door.

-BREAK THREE-

Two weeks later, now comfortable that they were indeed safe, the Banns and their men left to return to their own bannorns. Her men and the chevalier's would take turns keeping watch in case Loghain sent more soldiers to retake what they'd lost.

Exhausted from the long day of cleaning up after the guests' departure, she'd returned to her sister's room to fall into bed but when she opened the door what she saw something that terrified her and she didn't know what to make of it. She closed the door and ran to her own room without thinking and began to pace.

Cyril's eyes flew open and rose quickly from the tub before he caught sight of Darling and the fear and uncertainty that clouded her expression. He wrapped a towel around his waist and made haste to her side to find out what happened. He gripped her arms to halt her pacing. "What happened? Did Loghain send more men?"

She blinked and looked up into his eyes. "What? No. I saw – I saw…." But words failed her. She tried to pull away but she didn't have the strength.

"What did you see?" Something had upset her greatly and he needed to know so he would know what he needed to do to make the problem go away.

"My sister...Misha…" But again words failed her.

That alarmed him and he gripped her arms tighter. "Did something happen to them? Have they been hurt? Tell me exactly what you saw."

"They-they were in bed…but…"

Realization dawned and he burst out laughing. "I am surprised he lasted as long as he did – your sister was relentless. But they are as good as wed. I do not fault him for his weakness. She did not make it easy on him."

She shoved his chest. "Stop laughing! It wasn't like that. She was…she was…suffocating him."

His forehead furrowed and he frowned. He'd heard of dangerous play, but he never thought Michel would be craven enough for such a thing. "Was it with a pillow…or a belt?"

"No…she was…bloody hell – she was sitting on his face. Why would she try to hurt him like that? She's headstrong but she's not evil. I should have done something, but I ran. Maybe it's not too late!" She tore away from him, but in a blink she was held tight against him, trapped in his arms. "Let me go! I need to help him and…and…"

"And nothing…" he murmured, trying to keep a serious expression. He knew she would bolt when he explained things and he had no intension of letting her. "She wasn't hurting him. He was…making love to her."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed. "I have seen horses…I've seen dogs. I understand what sex is – that was not sex! She was hurting him!"

He pursed his lips. "Then why do I want you to hurt me like that?"

"What?" She pushed against him but he wouldn't even give her an inch. "I would never hurt you like that! I can't believe you ask me to!"

"My Darling, listen to me. She wasn't hurting him. He was…pleasuring her. It is…a part of making love. Think back to what you saw. Did it look like he was struggling to get away or struggling to breathe?"

She thought back through the memory of what she'd seen. "He was gripping her hips."

"Was he trying to push her off?" he asked gently.

"I – I don't know," she admitted.

That's one step in the right direction. "He's almost twice her size, my Darling, and a trained warrior. Don't you think he could have pushed her off if he wanted to? Did you see anything else?" he probed.

"I-" she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "He was…he was…" but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

A groan slipped from his lips. He was seducing himself imaging her astride his face. "He was aroused?"

"Yes…" she said in a strangled voice.

"And was your sister moaning as he pleasured her?" His grip tightened.

Ice pooled in her belly as she realized just what she'd seen. "Oh, sweet Maker…" She'd told him. She was an idiot. She'd embarrassed herself more times that she could count with him, but this…this - there was no getting over this. She struggled against his hold. "Let me go…let me go…please, Maker…let me go. I – I need to go…I beg you…"

Her struggles had dislodged his towel, which was now pooled at his feet, but he was beyond caring. "I'm not letting you go. You are an innocent, my Darling – you could not know. That is nothing to be embarrassed by."

She glared up at him. "If you're an innocent then how did you know?" she growled, tears slipping down her hot cheeks.

He brushed his lips over her tears. "Men speak of things they shouldn't. But I am thankful that I knew or we would have embarrassed your sister and Micha a great deal."

She lowered her eyes. "Just let me go…" she pleaded.

"I love you too much to let you go." With one arm firmly anchored around her he tilted her chin up and grazed his lips against hers. His hand splayed against her back as he sank his fingers into her pale blonde hair and deepened the kiss. He groaned when she melted against him, igniting the hunger for her that burned in him. His fingers slowly worked the buttons down the back of her dress, caressing each inch of skin revealed. When he released the buttons at the base of her spine and discovered she wore nothing beneath the dress, he was lost to her. Lost to the hunger. She was his bride, nothing would change that, but only she could stop him from making love to her tonight.

His hands skimmed slowly to her shoulders as his mouth trailed down the column of her neck, over her collar bone to the enticingly displayed cleavage. He drew his tongue along the swell of her breast as his fingers slid down her arms, taking the thin material of the dress with them. The dress slid to the floor in a whisper of material. Her slippers fell off her feet as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her bed.

He laid her gently on the bed and settled against her side. His eyes raked slowly down her body, seeking to memorize every inch of soft skin. "Il n'y en a pas du plus revissant que toi." His fingertip skimmed down her breast to circle the puckered bud. "Je crains que je ne me reveille et que je ne te trouve plud qu'un reve." His fingers slid down the flat of her belly and slipped through the short, pale curls to stroke over her damp folds. He groaned as his shaft thickened with her soft cry. "So soft…so silky…so sensuously slick and warm. If this is a dream then I wish never to wake, bride of my heart." His finger dipped lower and slowly sank into her heat. A ragged breath slipped from his lips and his body shuddered. "The sweetest glove I will ever know." He slowly withdrew to caress the hidden bud that made her body writhe. He lowered his head to flick his tongue over the tight bud and draw it into the heat of his mouth. Her hands slid through his hair to hold him to her.

"Cyril!" she gasped, barely able to think past the pleasure that was overwhelming her. "I thought we had to wait."

Her nipple slipped from his lips. He feathered kisses along her neck, her jaw and her lips. "I am supposed to give my chastity to my marriage bed. You are my bride…this is our bed. But I will wait to lose myself completely in you. For now…there is something I wish to do." Especially, now that he knew the movements she liked.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her down over him. When her legs straddled him he gripped her thighs and pulled her up his chest and past his shoulders until her thighs straddled his face. He gripped her hips when she tried to move and fanned a hot breath against her sensitive skin. He looked up past her full breasts and into her shocked but hunger darkened eyes as his tongue teased and tasted the opening that was to be denied to him before sliding through her soft folds to massage the swollen nub. Her throaty moans and cries of pleasure were seductive torture. His hands roamed her body as she rode him. He was so heavy with need for her that he could feel the wet of it on his belly. He could only pray that he did not embarrass himself.

"Something's going to happen," she moaned in little more than a breath.

He raised his chin to rub it against her. "Just let go, my Darling. Let it happen…come for me." He lowered his mouth and suckled the small bud, his tongue moving more aggressively against her. She threw her head back and her body stiffened. For a moment he thought he might have done something wrong, but then her hoarse cry of release eased his concern and compounded his need. He slowed his movements against her until she squirmed and slid down his body.

She rained butterfly kisses all over his face and lips. "I didn't know anything could feel so sinfully wonderful. I'm glad you stopped me from saving Misha." He cheeks grew warm and she buried her face in his neck and gave it a slight nip. She grinned when she felt him shiver. "It is odd that I could feel so much pleasure and yet still empty as if something were missing."

He rolled them over with a soft growl and settled between her thighs. He rocked against her slick heat, his body shaking with his slipping control. "Mon dieu – je ne peux plus prendre. I am fighting a battle I have already lost. My Darling love, we are meant to join as one. It is why you feel empty and why I ache to fill you." He stilled, poised at her portal, trying to gather the tatters of his resolve, when her legs came around him and pulled him in. Her body stiffened when he tore through her innocence, hilting himself in her tight heat. Her muscles spasmed and clenched around him in pain and he dropped his forehead to hers, the pleasure as overwhelming as the need to thrust. "Bon ange, le ciel n'est pas au-dessus – c'est dans tes bras. I would take your pain if I could."

She had been shocked by the pain. She hadn't realized there would be any. "You said more than that…" she murmured.

He grinned. "I said, 'Sweet angel, heaven isn't above – it is in your arms'. I seek only to give you pleasure and it pains me that I had to hurt you for us to be one."

She tilted up her chin to kiss his lips. "And that is why I love you." She loosened her legs and moved against him. "Make love to your bride."

He made love to her until they fell asleep with exhaustion. He woke up early to gather the few items he'd had a maid let out to more comfortably fit him and move to another room, but his movements woke her hand slid down his belly to grip his arousal. "Mon dieu, you do not play fair, my Darling."

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked as she snuggled into him and stroked his hard, silky shaft.

His breath came out in pants and he felt himself thicken under her palm. "I must seek out my own room before the servants awake. I do not wish to dishonor your mother or sully your name."

Her hand slipped from his erection and her finger poked his chest. "That's not how this is going to work." Poke. "I'm not waiting two more weeks to make love to you again." Poke. "I expect you to make love to me once a day – no…several times a day." Poke. "So you can either sleep in this bed with me or sneak in, if your honor allows it." Poke. "Because if you fail to make love to me I will hunt you down, in the skin I was born with, and make love to you regardless who is watching." Poke. "Have I made myself clear?"

He couldn't bring himself to lecture her about honor, especially not when her hand and slid back down to stroke him. No, he wasn't fooling himself. After a night of ecstasy in her arms he knew he'd never be able to go very long without feeling that again. His honor be damned…at least in this situation. "I have no intension of going a day without touching you. So I will come to you at night and perhaps occasional outings – regardless, I will protect your honor."

He made love to her and then they dressed quickly. "You should hide that sheet. It has evidence of your innocence and we will need that on our wedding night. The servants will gossip if they do not see the blood," he pointed out. "And they will most certainly gossip if they see it now."

"A sound strategy, indeed." She hurried towards the door, peeked out, and then opened it so they could step into the hall. "Now that our guests have gone home, I wish to have my room back, so please allow me to show you to your new room."

"Of course, my Darling – lead the way." He placed a hand at her back and followed her down the hall and into a room on the left.

"I, personally, cleaned and aired out this room yesterday. So if you have any complaints, deal with it," she teased.

-BREAK FOUR-

The next week proved to be a series of unfortunate events. A bowl cracked when hot stew was ladled into it, causing the scalding mess to fall onto his lap. Thankfully, he'd been wearing his armor, as he'd recently come in from patrolling the bannorn, and only a small portion of his thighs were burned. The next day, a large rug in Cyril's room caught fire in the wee morning hours. He was able to put it out and push open the paned window to release the smoke with only a minor coughing fit. On the morning of the third day a viper was found in his boot. It had struck out at his hand when he'd picked up the boot, and its fang only barely grazed his skin. On the fourth day, a servant fell ill when they snuck a sip of the Lord's wine before serving it to him. Darling had taken it upon herself to supervise the food prep and distribution after that. It had become more than obvious that this was personal. Someone resented Darling's betrothal to an Orlesian.

Many Fereldens still resented the orlesains' forced occupation. But the first incident with the stew raised her suspicions. It was not meant to kill him, but to send a very different type of message. The only person she could even think of that would enjoy scalding Cyril's genitals was Lord Devon, one of Bann Loren's men. But they had no proof. At least…not until the fifth day into the week.

She and Cyril had come to the barn earlier than usual for a bit of alone time in a very comfortable pile of hay when they found someone slicing the cinch on Luc's saddle.

"I thought you'd come up with a far more clever way to kill me than that," Cyril replied drolly. When the man spun around, he slapped the knife from the assassin's hand and it skittered under one of the wooden saddle stands.

The man crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, Ser, my more elaborate attempts failed rather spectacularly. I might add that you are a hard man to kill. I would have preferred to have taken more exact measures, but it was to appear an accident. So you can imagine the quandary I am in."

Cyril grinned. "Oh, absolutely. I very much commiserate with the difficulty of your situation." He glanced down at his Darling to see the hard set of her jaw and the flash of fury in her eyes. "By the look on my bride's face, it would appear she does not share my sentiment. That being the case, I cannot allow it to continue. Surely, you understand this?"

The man's gaze settled on the beautiful woman who looked like she wanted to claw his eyes out and feed them to him. "It would appear men are often at the mercy of the fairer sex. But what can we do?" He returned his attention to the Lord. "Since she is to remain unharmed, it would appear we are at an impasse."

She'd heard enough of polite small talk and lunged towards the assassin only to have Cyril hold her back in a vice-like grip. "Enough! Who hired you to kill my Cyril?!"

"So full of spirit, my Lady. I can see why you are treasured." He leaned forward with a seductive curl of his lips. "Tell me, Darling, are you a firebrand in bed as well?"

In a blink she was behind Cyril and his fist shot out to connect to the man's leering face. The saddle stand toppled under the weight of the two men. The assassin didn't stand a chance under the onslaught of Cyril's fury. He apparently came to the same conclusion when he pulled a knife. She whipped her small, jeweled dagger from its sheath at her waist and threw it at the hand that meant to stab the Lord. The force of the dagger's throw propelled the man's hand backwards and buried itself, through his palm and into the wood of the saddle stand. The knife slipped from his fingers to fall harmlessly to the ground.

"I yield," the man cried out, trying to block his face from the blows that rained down on it.

She yanked back on Cyril's shoulder. "He's down, my Cyril. Leave up." When he ignored her, she grabbed his chin and turned his head to look at her. "Leave up. Perhaps he's willing to talk now."

Cyril rose and kicked the knife away from the assassin and flexed his hands. "It would be in your best interest to ensure the words that come out of your mouth do not inspire another beating."

He gently rubbed his tender jaw. "No…no. I've had more than enough of your…tender administrations this day. I cannot, however, disclose whom I work for. My death would be certain if I did such. But, I do suggest you bring me to Bann Loren. He will be able to tell you what I cannot. At least, in that case, my death is only probable."

Bann Loren did indeed find out that Lord Devon was behind the assassination attempts, after a…lengthy interrogation. He and the assassin were jailed in the dungeon, until the local Arl or Teyrn pronounced judgement on the Lord. The assassin? Bann Loren had not told them what he planned to do with him, but Darling suspected the Bann intended to use the assassin. She'd heard the stories of Arl Howe's men killing everyone in Highever castle, where the Bann's wife and son had gone to visit friends.

Howe was close friends with Loghain. If the Bann intended to go after either man, she would not stand in the way.