Chapter 9

The Grey Wardens came with the rain.

From their vantage point in one of the castle's many towers, the Warden and Loghain could see the Orlesians approach through the watery sheets. They came on horseback, fully armored, with the Grey Warden standard raised high in the air.

"Do you think this is what they looked like in times of old?" asked the Warden of Loghain, leaning on her hands as she peered out the open window. The wind and rain whistled past her face, splashing against her cheeks and chilling her skin. "Grey horses, grey armor, banners raised high to part the rain?"

"They're Orlesians," replied Loghain as he came to stand behind her, "they take any excuse to show off. This is just fanfare." The wind tugged at the braids at his temple and reminded him of the dangers of Ferelden's inclement weather. His brow furrowed, "Don't stand there mesmerized. You'll catch a cold." He put a fatherly hand on her shoulder, feeling the gentle shivering of her body in the cool air.

"You're right." The Warden reached forward and pulled the thick shutters closed over the window, locking out the storm. She chuckled and wiped the rain away from her face with her hands. She ran her fingers over her eyebrows to push out the water droplets and then caught them with the edge of her sleeve. "Was there much fanfare during the War?" She looked at Loghain expectantly over her shoulder.

"Of course there was." He looked sidelong at her. "Entire legions of chevaliers in their finest armor would line up before each battle, each one carrying their family's crest and the Chantry's blessing on the edges of their lances."

The Warden grinned. "Explain no further. Finely organized ranks and shining armor is no match for a cleverly placed cheval de frise. Or ten."

Loghain nodded in approval. "You've got a head on your shoulders; but then I'm sure Bryce would never have let you be ignorant of the means that brought you freedom."

"I had an excellent tutor, yes, though I don't think he would have called me a good student." The Warden patted the hand on her shoulder. "Please don't try and quiz me on the finer points of history and warfare."

"The journey to Amaranthine will not be short," Loghain smirked. "What else would you have us discuss?"

"Well, if you corner me about famous battles, then I'm going to harass you about court fashions." She winked.

Loghain seemed unperturbed by the suggestion and his eyebrows rose in amusement. "In case you think I'm a poor student of fashion and culture, I'd like to say in my defense that I don't have servants to dress me each morning and I have a daughter your age."

"Dress yourself? Dress yourself?" The Warden took a few steps back and gestured at his torso with her hand. "Armor is not considered dressing yourself! Especially not since it already comes in coordinated pieces."

"It's what's under the armor that counts," grumbled the former Teyrn, crossing his arms over his chest with the clattering of finely hammered iron.

"If you say so," Lady Grey raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You can't live in it, you know. One day you'll have to take it off and fear my mockery for your color choices."

"Your mockery is probably the last thing about you that a man should possibly fear." Loghain strode past her towards the door, his shoulder grazing her chest and halting his steps momentarily. (The Lady didn't appear to have taken any offense or notice of it, much to his relief.) "This is why I suggest you use your talents and put the fear of the Maker into your Orlesian counterparts." He crossed through the threshold and beckoned her to follow him.

"Oh?" the Warden stepped quickly to match his pace, dogging Loghain's heels as he weaved his way down the tower's winding steps. "What talents exactly? What do you know that I don't?"

"You are the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden now," said Loghain softly, as if the walls might hear or the wind might bring his words to the other Grey Wardens. "I may not have had much respect for the Grey Wardens in the past, but you are our link in their chain of command. It would be a pity if Ferelden was to lose that, especially to Orlesian greed. As I understand it, the Orlesian Grey Wardens already watch a great deal of land. I have no doubt that they would use an opportunity of supplanting you as a way to get a foothold in our country."

The Lady put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them gently as they descended in protest of his words. "I do not think that any Grey Warden wishes to be tasked with the challenge of running the defenses of two nations. One is hard enough as it is, two would make living unbearable."

Loghain shrugged off her hands. "Perhaps that rings only true for you. Some individuals thrive on power. It doesn't matter if it is one, two, or ten nations. They always hunger for something more."

"They said the same things about you, you know." The Lady returned her hands to his frame. "'Loghain Mac Tir has gone mad with power. He can never have enough of it. He probably wants to rule Orlais as well as Ferelden.'" She chuckled darkly, leaning close to his ear. "Appearances are deceiving. You do not seem the type to desire power beyond your control."

"I wouldn't have minded ruling Orlais," Loghain's lips tugged up into a small smile, though he knew that the woman behind him couldn't see it. "It would have been ironic, if not justified, though Maric would have ruled Orlais better than I. And take your hands off me, girl. I'm not a horse to be ridden."

The Grey Warden's responding laughter echoed down the stairs in front of them. "If we were not on a staircase and at the risk of tripping, you would be regretting those words!"

"These old bones can hardly support my armor and your weight." Loghain's greaves squeaked in agreement as he continued down the staircase. "So don't even try it, unless you plan to drag me to Amaranthine slung over the back of a horse."

"Are you calling me fat?" asked the Warden incredulously, halting in her tracks.

"What? No!" Loghain looked over his shoulder at her, her hands on her hips and scowling at him. "Maker's breath, tell me now, are you going to be this sensitive all of the time?"

"Maybe," she said quietly.

Loghain sighed. "Maker help me," he muttered, stepping up to meet her eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I forget that age hasn't yet beaten out your desires to be attractive...and apparently warfare hasn't either."

"I suppose not." She frowned, drumming her fingers and pursing her lips. "You truly don't think I'm fat?"

"No, I don't. I think you're…" Loghain paused, considering his words carefully. He'd gone through this stage of insecurity with Anora. The Warden was a lot like his daughter in many respects: resolute, fearless, and brutally smart. She would appreciate his honesty, which worked in his favor since she was quite pretty. He looked over her features, and then down her frame, following the sharp cinch of her waist to the wide taper of her hips where it appeared her greatest concerns lay. "I think you're a lovely young woman. It is true: you are no delicate flower on the vine, but I think I would like you less if you were. I have always preferred wild roses to domesticated ones."

She smiled wanly and let her hands drop from her hips. "Thank you. And I am…really sorry about that. I suppose I've been bottling that up since…well, since mother's last salon. Lady Terlinda. What a…what a hag."

Loghain echoed her smile. "I think I can forgive you that small lapse. I can imagine you haven't had much time to grieve or consider your new circumstances. The loss has been far greater on your end than mine. Do me one small favor though?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Don't listen to Lady Terlinda in the future." He patted her shoulder once more before turning back down the stairs. "Her notions of beauty are not healthy. She told Anora once to tighten her corset so she'd eat less."

"…What?" the Warden skipped down the steps behind him.

"That was my response exactly," replied the former Teyrn mildly. "Suffice to say, it is never a good idea to insult the Queen's weight. Lady Terlinda has never been to a royal salon since."

"Unfortunately, her husband is one of my father's Banns. No," the Warden shook her head, "one of Fergus's Banns now." She placed a palm to her forehead. "I am all backwards today. This does not bode well for us."

"Here," they were at the bottom of the stairs by this time and Loghain pulled her off to the side of the door leading out. He settled her back against the wall, leaning on his shoulder next to her. "You've got some time to collect your thoughts." He crossed his arms, watching her pinch the bridge of her nose between long, slim fingers.

In the shared silence, they could hear the wind howling outside against the stone walls above them and the clattering of rain on the distant panes. It was difficult for the Warden not to be some what spellbound by the arrival of her foreign fellows. While Loghain was spurring all notions of the nostalgic glory days of the Grey Wardens, the weather and the very presence of the Wardens rekindled a few of those dreamy, childhood flames. Those in turn brought forth memories of her childhood and Alistair's youthful enthusiasm. Together, it was enough to make anyone's head spin.

But she knew what she had to focus on: the Blight. That was all the Grey Wardens were going to be interested in.

"All right," the Warden said after a few moments, scrubbing her face with her hands. "I think we'll be all right."

"Are you nervous?" asked the former Teyrn quietly.

"No." The Warden shook her head. "Not at all."

"Good."

Loghain led them to the throne room, waving his way through the castle corridors all too well. He looked over his shoulder at her now and then to make sure that the Lady was keeping up. Her brows were furrowed in thought each time he checked on her.

They emerged through a door hidden behind a tapestry at the back of the throne. "There's the Princeling," said Loghain, pointing his finger at the approaching figure of Alistair. He allowed his fellow Grey Warden to pull him down the dais, just to the left of the throne.

The king neither waved nor smiled to acknowledge them. Instead, Alistair gave a weary shrug of his shoulders before settling himself and his troubles on the throne. His golden armor had been well polished, and he was now wearing a bright blue cloak trimmed in black fur as opposed to his usual red. He was also, surprisingly, sporting the well-groomed shadow of a beard. It made Alistair look older and wiser.

"Is there a time estimate on their arrival?" asked the Warden, eyeing Alistair's stubble with curiosity. He was quickly shaking off the image of being a youthful monarch, and she wondered if perhaps Eamon had suggested the change in grooming.

"Last I heard they were passing through the market district." Alistair sighed. "They kept being held up by random citizens with questions, so, I don't know."

"Assuming they don't stop questions, it will take them ten minutes to get to the castle from the market district," supplied Loghain. Of course Loghain knew how this process worked; he'd only helped steward the castle and parlay with visitors since Maric had been king. "We'll then have to wait for however long the Captain of the Guard feels is necessary to question them and assess how much of a risk they are. He may take longer than needed if they refuse to give up their weapons."

The King made a loud groan. "And that gives us the amount of time I have to wait in uncomfortable silence with you? Peachy." Alistair made no attempt to hide his glower.

"Not that I am in any particular place to give orders here," said the Warden quietly, her eyes darting between Loghain's and Alistair's, "but you both need to be civil when the others arrive. It would reflect poorly on us all if they saw any…squabbling."

A faint smile played on Loghain's lips. "You have my word, Madam, that I'll not provoke the Princeling provided he leaves my head on my shoulders and removes his gaze from throat."

"There are far better deaths for you than a quick beheading," growled Alistair, his fingers gripping the wood, "but thankfully, I'm not you. I don't just remove people because they disagree with me, or I don't like them."

The Warden raised an eyebrow in surprise. Alistair had apparently listened to her.

"You'd probably be a lot happier if you did," replied Loghain after some moments of thought. He politely inclined his head to his commander. "Are you sure that I'm really necessary?"

"Yes. You are necessary. Hopefully," the Warden smiled and clapped Loghain's back, "they'll focus on you rather than on Alistair and me!"

"Did Isolde make any specific mention of the Wardens in her letter?" Alistair asked Lady Grey, placing an elbow on his knee as he leaned forward.

Isolde had written a letter and sent it with her fastest courier to Denerim when the Grey Wardens had arrived in Redcliffe. It was placed in the Warden's hand a week prior, and while she knew that Isolde had meant no insult to Alistair in her choice of recipient, Alistair's feelings had been hurt. It was a curious display of contradiction. Why would Alistair expect a letter to be addressed to him about Grey Warden business, when most of the kingdom had already heard the news that he'd renounced them entirely?

The Warden furrowed her brow in thought as she tried to recall the letter's contents. "No, I don't think she did. She mentioned that they were just passing through and making haste."

"And they're from Orlais," Alistair chewed on his lip as he considered the other Grey Wardens he'd met in the past. Truthfully, there hadn't been all that many. "I wonder…maybe is it Emeline? Or maybe it's Serge. Hmm."

"Were they at least friendly?" The Warden ran her hands down the front of her tunic, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the finely brocaded shirt. Her hands lingered longer than perhaps necessary at her hips.

"If they want something, most certainly," Loghain commented dryly from beside her. "Just don't expect anything they say to come without some sort of hidden meaning or price. Be cautious."

Alistair made a noise of disapproval deep in his throat. "Andraste's flaming sword, she doesn't need you to tell her how to act."

Loghain regarded Alistair with thinly veiled disapproval. "It's a bit late to jump on your horse and start defending her, Princeling. Half the nobles and all the servants have already known that - "

The Warden held up a hand. "Maker's breath," she grumbled, "I appreciate the sentiments from both of you; truly, I do. I just need you both to work with each other. Do not use me as an excuse to come to blows."

Alistair looked as though he was biting his tongue with ferocious force, while Loghain stood impassively with his hands behind his back. They were certainly a contrast in the fiery passion of youth and the cool reservation of age.

After much length, Alistair finally spoke. "I didn't get to speak with many of the Orlesian commanders much. They respected Duncan, which was enough for me." Alistair's eyes lingered at the doors on the end of the hall. "Hopefully they will respect you too."

"Well, no guarantee of that," the Warden gave a small smile, tongue darting out to wet her lips in the process. "We'll just have to play this by ear. I'm sure they're civil."

Loghain looked like he wanted to disagree, but said nothing as the door to the far end of the throne room was opening.

The palace guards filtered in one by one, followed by a figure in polished grey armor. The guards took their positions along the walls while the Grey Warden moved to stand before Alistair.

Alistair and Loghain seemed unsurprised that the Grey Warden Commander from Orlais happened to be a woman, though it did come as a pleasant shock to Lady Grey. The Commander was tall, with a freckly, gaunt face and narrow features. She had a shocking mass of red curls that were barely constrained back into their tight bun and quick green eyes that seemed more to absorb than see.

"Greetings to you from Orlais, King Alistair," she said in her heavy Orlesian accent. "And from Weisshaupt as well."

"Welcome to Ferelden, Commander," replied Alistair neutrally, inclining his head to her. "I don't think we've met before…"

"Normally the Captain of the Guard would announce her to you," the former Teyrn narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, he was quite busy interrogating my tracker so I just entered when the doors were opened." The woman gave a charming smile. "I am Andraste, Second Warden of Val Royeaux."

"Oh," Alistair blinked in surprise. "Why would they send a Second here?"

"Why not?" Andraste shrugged. "Ferelden has experienced a most…peculiar Blight. It bears investigation."

"It seemed like a pretty standard enough Blight," replied Alistair neutrally. "The Darkspawn came up, the Archdemon emerged, and then the Archdemon was slain."

Andraste's flicked her eyes down Alistair's body appraisingly before speaking. "You are a handsome king, Alistair, and while you are not known for your intellect, you are known for your bravery and honesty."

Alistair blinked, frowned and spoke with some hesitation. "Thanks, I think?"

"You are welcome. But," The Orlesian wagged a finger at him, "that being said, I will find out if you're lying to me. And you do not want to lie to me."

"There's nothing to lie about." Alistair laid a level gaze on Andraste, "You have my word on that."

"Your word as what?" countered the redhead with a smirk, "as a King? Or as a Grey Warden?"

"As a king," answered Alistair, "I am a Grey Warden no longer."

"Is that so?" Andraste raised an eyebrow. "You and I will need to sit down, I think, before I make my report to Weisshaupt. One can not simply leave the Grey Wardens. You can not undo the Joining. You will still feel the Call."

Alistair's stare hardened. "I am a king; I have a political affiliation now."

"Pfft." Andraste waved her hand in the air dismissively. "You could have been a Grey Warden king. Weisshaupt would not have objected. But you say you are a former Grey Warden now, and are therefore a former Grey Warden king. I think I already know what Weisshaupt will say to that."

"There's not really much to discuss about the matter," Alistair said with finality. "I have made my choice and they can't and won't change it."

"So you say now. We will discuss this later," Andraste's eyes darted to the two silent Wardens, "in private." She settled her gaze on Loghain. "And what interesting company we keep. Loghain Mac Tir, we have heard of you."

"Oh have you, Madam?" replied Loghain with boredom.

"Yes." Andraste put a hand to her forehead. "My father was the Chevalier Commander at the Battle of the River Dane. You…you wear his armor."

This wiped all expression off Loghain's face.

Andraste laughed at this, holding her cheeks as she doubled forward. "Oh! Oh, I am so sorry. I am kidding, I am kidding. My father was never a chevalier, he was a baker. But your face…" she laughed a little longer. "Ah…your face."

The Warden frowned in displeasure. "That was a joke in poor taste."

"I know, but I could not help it; I had to see for myself." Andraste smiled, her full lips parting into a toothy grin. "We have so many stories of Loghain Mac Tir and his friends King Maric and Queen Rowan. Fearless defenders. Valiant knights. Clever enemies. Orlais sings of its victories as well as its defeats. We do not defile and damn our losses."

Lady Grey shook her head. "Might we just keep politics out of this, shall we?"

Andraste shrugged. "We will see…we will see. But you…you are the one who dealt the final blow. You are the 'One Who Lived.' Lady Cousland, Commander of this region now rumor has it, aren't you?"

"Yes." The Lady nodded. "I am."

"How strange that in all the Blights before you, no one has lived after slaying the Archdemon." Andraste laid a thoughtful finger to her narrow chin. "How very, very strange."

"I thought it was too," said the Lady quietly, "I didn't expect to wake up at all."

Andraste came close to the other woman and placed a consoling hand on her arm. (Loghain took a few steps back so that she didn't invade his personal space.) "My dear, you must feel terrible."

The Warden blinked in surprise. "Why?"

"You are alive." Andraste looked at her as though she should have known this already. "The Archdemon can not be dead."

"Well, it can not be alive. It didn't take over the body of any other Darkspawn that is for certain," explained Lady Grey, her voice calm.

"Are you sure?" asked Andraste. "Were you able to look around and see?"

The Warden shook her head. "No, but I trust those who were there at the battle. They saw nothing out of the ordinary once I passed."

"How do they have any way of knowing? Are they Grey Wardens? Do they Sense as you and I and him?" Andraste canted her head at Loghain. "And I suppose him too," she leaned towards Alistair.

The Warden sighed. "I have no other way of knowing except for the reports of those who were there. I severed the head from that beast and was near death for three weeks. I would like to think that if I had made no impact on the Archdemon's life, that I would have been healthy and whole for that amount of time."

Andraste's voice was low, "you make dangerous assumptions that our children's children may have to pay for."

"I firmly believe that the Archdemon was defeated and no longer exists amongst the Darkspawn." The Warden's grey eyes were firm and unyielding, meaning every carefully chosen word.

"Will you swear on that?" Andraste's eyes were just as firm. "Will you swear an oath to me that what you say is true?"

"What nonsense is this?" Loghain pushed himself between the two women, Lady Grey at his back and Andraste at his front. "Why does she have to swear an oath? She defeated the damn dragon; it wasn't as though she had any plans of living through it. She was quite ready to give her life."

"It'll be all right, Loghain. I have no qualms in swearing her oath," the Warden laid her hand on his shoulder, stepping past him towards Andraste. She tilted her chin upwards as she regarded the other woman. "I stand by what I've said here. The Archdemon doesn't exist amongst the Darkspawn any longer."

"For someone in no position to be certain, you are very sure of what you say," said Andraste softly. "And very young, too. That no doubt helps you maintain the strength of your convictions." She puckered her lips in thought.

The Warden raised a hand in protest. "Please, let my actions speak for me, not my age. It is only fair." She felt Loghain place a hand of approval between her shoulder blades. He had likely nodded at everything she'd said.

"Fair enough," Andraste turned from the two. "I will take your word on this, for now. But I will investigate this matter further myself. If I find any trace of the Archdemon…." She looked over her shoulder at Lady Grey, "you will be the first to know."

"So you will be staying in Ferelden for a long while, I take it?" asked Alistair, making himself known again.

"My companions and I will be here for however long it takes," replied Andraste curtly. "With the Maker's blessing, we will discover nothing and return to Orlais within the year."

"You are welcome to stay at Amaranthine while you are investigating the matter," offered the Warden. "Loghain and I will be establishing our new home at Vigil's Keep."

"I may visit with you in the future. Though," Andraste's smile was grim, "I would suggest you pay a visit to the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt or at the very least Val Royeaux. They will want to speak with you personally."

The Warden nodded. "We will make our way there eventually."

"Understandable. Don't delay the visit, however." The elder Grey Warden approached Alistair. "Now, King Alistair, might you and I have a few moments alone together? There are a few pressing questions that I must ask you."

Alistair nodded. "Of course. Aurora, Loghain, you're both free to go."

The Warden sketched a small bow in Alistair's direction, following Loghain's already considerable lead to one of the side doors. He held the door for her, closing it behind them as she passed. When she turned to look at him, she found him grinning from ear to ear. "What are you smiling about, Loghain?"

"I am amused. Apparently, Alistair has a doomed existence," he chuckled. "He is fated to be cowed by every female Grey Warden he encounters."

"You are a cruel, cruel man." But the Warden couldn't help but share in his joke.

"It's true. Andraste is a man eater." Loghain ushered her down the hallway. "You can tell by the way she looks at you. She had absolutely no interest in you beyond her duty, though Alistair was a different matter entirely."

"Well, she isn't our problem at the moment." The Warden looked at her companion out of the corner of her eye. "Well, not mine anyway. If what you said is true, she liked you. She's your problem."

"Yes, it appears I am also doomed to be cowed by every female Grey Warden I meet." He returned her look. "What a terrible pity."

"Oh, thank you by the way." The Warden turned to face him, her hands folded earnestly before her.

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For coming to my defense against both Alistair and Andraste. It is nice to know that someone's with me." The Lady's smile was embarrassed but pleased.

"Next to Anora, you're about the only ally that I have left," Loghain stared at her face, his own tinged with sadness. "Contrary to what most people believe, I do try and protect my allies."

The Warden nodded her head. "I know."

Being Loghain must have been a very lonely business, as he was still working to redeem himself in the public's eye. Still, though she wanted to take his words at face value, the Warden could not forget that this was the man who had conspired with her family's murderer. She would keep him close, if only to protect herself. He was not her Brother yet.

It is amazing how much writing you can get done during the Super Bowl! The delay between chapters is regrettable, but real life has been incredibly busy and is only about to get busier. That being said, we're almost out of the city! Hurrah!