Stone Blessed

He stood apart from the others, his hands crossed behind his back, his eyes drawn to the snowcapped mountains in the distance, as if his regard could somehow draw them closer to him. His stance was regal, boarding on imperious, but that could not be helped. He had been born into power, and he could no more stop being a noble then he could stop breathing the air, or feeling the good hard stone beneath his feet.

He had caught a glimpse of himself in one of the pools outside the palace in Denerim.

He had to admit, it looked every bit the nobleman he had once been.

His blue eyes were cold and enthralling. The splintmail he wore was the finest ever designed by a surface dwarf, forged by his former second's father in law. His long blond hair was pulled back into a single braid down his back, his beard braided as was proper for a nobleman if his station. Starfang, his fearsome long sword was sheathed at his belt, the shield of Aeducan strapped to his back. His loyal warhound Paragon slept at his feet.

Duran Aeducan had always been proud of who he had been, even when he had been exiled he had clung to what he was, what he knew that he truly was. Being exiled did not take away the strength of his sword arm. Being erased from the memories of his people did not deny what he had been taught, what he had always been. What he knew himself to be.

He was what the stone had made him, and he was fine with that.

Yet, tonight, tonight he felt only grim trepidation, the thought of returning home…was not a happy thought at all.

In fact it was troubling, regardless of his accomplishments here in the surface.

His fellow wardens had joined him on this little trip back to the city of his birth, for most it would be there first time setting foot in Orzammar. If anyone should be nervous it should be them.

Anders sat near the fire petting his cat. Nathaniel chatted quietly with Velanna, his closest companion in the wardens, and apparently his new lover. Sigrun was running a shell game on Oghren and Justice. The legionnaire was just good enough to avoid Justice's questioning gaze and Oghren's drunken blurry one.

Duran sniffed with amusement, he did not smile but he came very close.

These people, they were his family now, his brothers and sisters

He hoped they came to a better end than his real brother had…

Duran shook his head.

The memory of the last two years crashed over him like a rockslide.

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to forget. Alas there were things that even he could not do.

Stone preserve him.

IOI

He had been called a giant among men, despite his small stature. The Hero of Ferelden, Savior of Redcliffe and the circle tower. Warden Commander of Ferelden, Blight Queller, and the slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel, so many titles, and yet they meant nothing to him.

He was a man used to wearing titles; they had little effect on him.

Once…he had been something quite different.

Once he had been a lord of Orzammar, prince in all but name.

Second son of King Endrin, brother of Trian, brother of Bhelen, favored son of the king. The one most likely to be king after his father had returned to the stone.

The warden sighed heavily.

All of these things had defined him once, and then…in a moment of stupidity and arrogance he took a title he never should have wanted. He threw away all he had ever been and ever could be…

Kinslayer.

There were still people in Orzammar who called him that. Becoming a warden had not erased that sin.

Duran felt a shiver run through his small frame, in that moment he saw what had happened that one dark day in the deep roads, and the old crossroads outside the Aeducan Thaig. The fury on Trian's when he had tried to kill his own brother, the shock when he had failed. That last sad final moment when the light left his eyes for the last time, and then…then…

He still remembered the broken look on his father's face, the look of horror as he kneeled before his eldest son's body.

Duran had not realized the cost of what he had done…not until that moment, and for the first time in his life…

Duran Aeducan had felt shame.

It had been self-defense, Trian had heard the same story that Duran had heard. Bhelen had warned him how his beloved sibling was planning to slay him and seize the throne, and Trian, like Duran had believed it.

They had attacked each other, both eager to see the other dead.

Duran had won, and at the same time…he had lost everything.

Bhelen had played them both.

Duran pursed his lips.

If Bhelen had manipulated another of the noble houses like that, Duran would have bought his little brother a drink at Tapsters, he would have welcomed him into the pantheon of so many other great Aeducans, but…the fact that he had manipulated his own brothers…

Still…it had been a brilliant move.

During the Blight they had met again, Duran and his dear little brother. Bhelen and Pyral Harrowmont had been wrestling over the throne like deepstalkers fighting over a nug. Bhelen had the numbers in the assembly, but Harrowmont had the traditionalists on his side. Deadlock had taken the Assembly. The succession argument very well might have led to a dwarven civil war.

Then the wardens had arrived. That is when Duran had returned home.

Duran had considered burying his little brother; he had considered it long and hard. He had almost done it too, he had almost helped Harrowmont bring down generations of Aeducan rule, and he very well might have, had not his sense of dwarven pride and family loyalty taken over.

Family always comes first, it is like the stone. It must endure.

The Aeducans had ruled Orzammar for generations…generations. In the end…Bhelen would be just a tiny scar on their family's grand history.

Who was Duran Aeducan to decide that it was time for all of that to end?

Duran could not let that history fall. So…he had sided with his brother, the man who had betrayed him. He…he stood there and made his brother king of all of Orzammar.

It had not been for Bhelen's benefit, it was for the future, the generations of Aeducans yet to be born. They deserved a chance to have their chance in the Assembly, to make Orzammar a better place.

Duran could not let their grand family fall, and he had not.

He had remained true to his family, and his name, even if Orzammar denied that he had ever been a part of it.

Duran was, and always would be… an Aeducan, and he had done an Aeducan's duty.

Bhelen was king…

…at least…

…for now.

IOI

The former prince turned warden sighed.

He had learned after his victory over the Archdemon that his brother had decided to give him back his family name. That he had decided to take back the one he had betrayed.

Duran was once again an Aeducan, a hero of his people, and apparently…a paragon.

The dwarf could only imagine how that vote had gone in the Assembly. He was likely the first surface dwarf to ever be given that honor, and now he was Orzammar's only living Paragon.

It was quite a feat considering he had slain the only other living paragon, but Branka had brought that end on herself.

Duran felt no pity for the mad smith. If he felt anything, it was for his friend Oghren, married to Branka, and betrayed by her.

Many in Orzammar would say he was now stone blessed, that he had gone from criminal to high nobleman once again, that the fact that his new title allowed him to form his own noble house, was proof of Bhelen's generosity and forgiveness.

The warden knew better.

Of course, Duran recognized this for it what it was. The dwarves knew the ways of the Grey Wardens better than most. Bhelen likely knew how unlikely it was that Duran would forge a noble house. The taint in his blood made having any children very difficult.

Bhelen likely thought that the noble House of Duran would end with him. He likely felt confident in that end.

In this…his brother was wrong.

Duran did have a son and heir, a son that would inherit everything that he was owed.

His little Trian, Duran would see that he got everything that he deserved.

That was the true reason that this journey had to be made, all of the titles that Duran had held to this point meant nothing to him now. Only one mattered for his future.

Father, he needed to be a Father to his son.

He thought about Mardi, the noble chaser who had given him a son, she had lost everything when he had been exiled, he…he had done what he could for her during the Blight, but it was not enough…he knew that it was not enough. Bhelen had promised to see her and little Trian cared for, but that was one promise that Duran could not trust his little brother to keep.

A father defends his own children. Duran intended to ensure that his son lived. Bhelen could have Orzammar, his child with that casteless girl could be heir, but Duran would be damned if Bhelen thought that he could cut out Duran's only living heir of his birthright.

The dwarf was not yet sure how he was going to do this, but one thing was certain…he would find a way.

Family always came first, it endured like the stone.

Duran would make sure his family endured.

IOI

"Oh fearless leader?"

The dwarf sighed, so much for his silent meditation.

"Yes, Anders," he said, "Is something on your mind?"

The apostate warden chuckled. His blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, his dandy blue robes and coat with the feathered pauldrons stood out starkly in the moon light.

He smirked at his commander's question.

"Kittens mostly," he said, "And banquets, oh…oh and a harem, and… the ability to fire lightning at every Templar in Thedas, but that isn't what is important right now."

Duran chuckled.

Anders was probably the shallowest man that the dwarf had ever met. He cared nothing for no one, outside of his own appetites. It amazed him that the mage got along so well with Justice. Anders insisted that he was trying to lighten the spirit warrior up, and Justice said he was trying to get Anders to take things more seriously.

It was an odd friendship, but it seemed to work so far.

"And what is important?" the dwarf asked the mage.

Anders face turned thoughtful.

"Your brooding again, it is not healthy," the mage responded, "If you are trying to beat Nathaniel in a brooding contest that is fine, but if you are brooding just for the sake of it. Well, there are better things to be doing with your time.

Duran chuckled.

"I'm not brooding," he responded, "I'm…thinking."

"Certainly looks like brooding," the mage responded.

The mage smiled widely.

"Would you like to pet the kitty?" he offered, pulling his small tabby cat out of his pack.

The cat mewed.

"Petting Ser Pounce a lot always cheers me up."

Duran sighed.

It was obviously he would not escape the mage's questions. Though he did not know why Anders had decided to play morale officer.

"I'm thinking about my son," he responded.

Anders paused.

"Oh," he said, "I…I did not realize that you had a wife in Orzammar."

"I don't."

"Oh," the mage shifted uncomfortably.

The dwarf rolled his eyes.

He could try to explain the concept of noble chasers and their children to a surfacer, but simply did not feel like it at this moment. Humans took marriage rights far too seriously, which was surprising considering how many of them there were.

Dwarves did not have that luxury, they needed numbers, and those numbers were welcomed into a family…usually quite willingly.

The dwarves had no concept of…what had Alistair called them? Bastards?

Alistair had suffered greatly for not being born of his father's wife. Duran did not really understand that. He should have been noble based by his same-sex parent, like any dwarf would be.

It was just another example of dwarven superiority. They did not abandon their children to beg, not without a damn good reason.

"My son is part of my house," Duran explained, "The assembly has named me paragon, as my son, he is now a lord. I…I intend to see to his birthright."

"Oh I see," the mage responded, "That is rather kind of you."

"I'm the boy's father," the commander repeated, "It is my duty to protect him."

Anders winced; he looked away, his eyes troubled.

Duran turned; he had never seen Anders look like that, so…shaken.

"Did I offend," he asked, "That was not my intention."

Anders chuckled mirthlessly.

"No Commander," he replied, "You …just…well…I wish my own father had felt as you do. My life might have been quite different."

"How so?"

Anders petted Ser Pounce a lot, the cat seemed to calm his mind slight, but…

He still seemed troubled.

"When my father found out I had magic, he did not hesitate, he turned me over to the chantry, to the Templars without a second thought."

The mage shook his head.

"I was his boy, his only boy, and he discarded me like I…I was nothing. It nearly killed my Mother, but what could she do? It was not like she could stop the Templars from taking me. I…I still remember her standing there, tears in her eyes as I was led away."

Anders brow furrowed in anger.

"What kind of Father would do that? How could he toss away his own boy like an old coat he didn't want anymore?! What kind of Father could do that? What kind of man could have done that?!"

Duran could not respond.

The ways of the surfacers were a mystery to him sometimes.

As quickly as his anger had surfaced, it faded; the mage went back to being jovial Anders again.

He smirked.

"Not that it matters anymore I suppose," he commented, "I'm a grey warden now, death to darkspawn…Rah! Rah! Sodding rah!"

Duran chuckled.

"Quite right my friend," he said, "Quite right indeed."

Anders shook his head and headed back towards their camp.

Duran once again returned to his musings.

"Commander?"

Anders words were almost a whisper. The dwarf had almost missed them.

"Yes?" the dwarf replied.

Anders sighed.

"He is very lucky, your son," the mage said, "Lucky to have a father who at least wants to support him, to see to his future."

He mage left him then, rummaging through his pack, looking for something to snack on. Ser Pounce a lot batted at his hands.

The mage chuckled enjoying their little game.

Duran's eyes once again fell on the snowcapped mountains, thinking of the great city that lay beneath them.

Trian was lucky to have a father that wanted to see to his future?

Duran hoped that was true.

"We shall see my son," he whispered, "We will see just how lucky you are. We shall just see.

A/N: Hope you all liked this view of the Warden and Anders, post DA: Awakening, but pre DA 2. Up next orphan Neria Surana makes a dark choice for survival, in a little story called Hunger. See you all then!

DG