The day was too gloriously beautiful to spend it trapped indoors going over the accounts. Surprised at that thought, Anora Mac Tir, Teyrna of Gwaren put the quill in her hand down in its holder to think it over. Granted it had been a very long winter, one that was harsher than had been experienced in memories of even the oldest "grandmother" of the area. An involuntary smile curved her lips at the thought of "Granny Noreen", a woman who was a feisty, independent soul, even at her advanced age of ninety some odd years.
Who threatened to "thump" Anora for spending far too much of her time dealing with politics and thinking all the time. Not to mention spending all of her time cooped up indoors.
She looked out the window again and decided that maybe she would listen to the old woman. The accounts were in good shape, there were no pressing matters to attend to. And truth be told, something Noreen had told her still bothered her.
At the time she'd been offended when Noreen had looked at her with an old sorrow as she said, "Dear Anora. You're still young enough to enjoy life. Please, for your sake, my dear, don't turn into your father."
She'd avoided the woman for over a month until she remembered another comment. One that ironically enough came from her father. He'd given voice to that beloved, raspy laugh of his, "Ah, my daughter. You could always do with much worse than ask Noreen for her advice, if she gives you time to ask of course. She's a woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind if she thinks you're doing something wrong. But she's always forthright and honest, without any malice." He paused for a moment, "Well, only if she thinks you aren't being too thickheaded."
Looking out the window at the beautiful day, she had the suddenly unsettled feeling that maybe her father would agree with Granny Noreen about not turning into him.
With that decision made, and trying not to feel like she was six and trying to get out of her lessons, Anora sent for her seneschal, Prescott. A tall, thin man that seemed shorter than he was because of a permanent stoop, his muddy brown eyes were bright with a quiet intelligence and a compassionate heart. He listened with his well known grave silence at her request for a small escort and picnic lunch for a day long ride. The warm smile he bestowed upon his Teyrna was unexpected. "My lady, I will be more than pleased to make the arrangements for you. A day as lovely as this one shouldn't be spent inside."
His comment reminded her of something she'd been wondering about, "Well then, that does explain why there seems to be so much activity outside."
Prescott merely gave her a small smile, but his eyes were lit by a touch of friendly mischief. "I'll let you know when the preparations are complete, my lady."
Feeling a little off kilter, she nodded as she stood up from her seat, shaking out her skirts so they hung correctly. Like many other women of the kingdom, she'd found herself adopting the return of the more traditional Ferelden style of looser skirts over a chemise with a bodice or overdress for day to day wear rather than the Orlesian style of tightly fitted dresses. While she didn't want to think about the source of the fashion, she'd come to privately admit that they were more comfortable. And did allow a greater variety in her wardrobe without having to get so many individual dresses.
Anora may have liked dressing up, but she was still a practical woman who didn't want to spend an exorbitant amount of the budget she allowed herself on clothing. Which reminded her...
"Prescott?"
He paused at the doorway inquiringly, "My lady?"
"Please make sure that my horse is not side saddled."
His eyes widened a little, but there was a suspicious twinkle in them, "Of course, my lady."
Riding astride would more than likely scandalize her women, but today was a day to wear riding leathers and let her hair down. How better to let the wind play with it?
-oOo-
Grumbling and silently snarling to himself the tall, rangy man narrowed his yellow eyes as he studied the tracks before him in the soft loam of the forest floor. Clad in mottled greens from light to dark to blend better in the forest, he had a swarthy, craggy face dominated by a truly impressive beak for a nose. His night dark hair was held out of his face by a ragged bit of cloth that may have been a bandana at one time. At his back was a long bow made of heartwood, at his hips were long daggers that weren't quite the length of short swords.
The massive black wolf with unusually long fur that was lounging nearby made a whuffing sound, as if asking him a question. He grunted as he sat back on his hunches, "Too many men. Heavily armored. Uniformly armored."
His voice was deep and raspy, yet rich like thick cream.
The large ears perked up and the wolf whined. The man returned to his survey and grunted, "Yes, I'd say they're soldiers. Enough for a small army. Now the only noble in the area who would have such is the Teyrna, but there's been no massing of her soldiers. They have better things to do, like guarding her people and lands from the unsavory sorts."
This time it was the wolf's turn to grunt. The man laughed, teeth a slash of brightness against his dark skin, "Indeed Dubh, I'm sure they would think we were such." He sobered as his sharp gaze studied the tracks again.
"I doubt they are the King's either. The clan reports that his forces are likewise occupied in much more useful endeavors. Though I like to believe his people might be more tolerant of those such as us."
Dubh chuffed his laughter. His companion rubbed his jaw that hadn't been shaven in days so his calloused palm rasped over the whiskers, "Mercenaries then."
The wolf fell silent, no longer grinning. His yellow eyes were watchful. The man steepled his hands over his mouth and nose, elbows braced on his knees as he thought over what that meant. He grumbled again, this time in disgust, "Politics. Someone decided to go the messy route. They must have for mercenaries to be in the area. After all Ferelden is at peace, and those oh so useful soldiers of the Teyrna would have noticed if a force like this came here by boat."
He stood with a slight creak, "And at least one of her vassals should have noticed such a force. So it must belong to them. I wonder who they're after?"
The wolf stretched as he got to his feet, his shoulder well past his friend's waist, almost to the middle of the man's ribcage, and looked up at him curiously. The man smiled wolfishly, "Indeed, my friend, we'll hunt the hunters. After all, there are debts to a couple of Ladies that can never be fully repaid. Not to mention a threat to our unexpected allies. I wonder why they haven't said anything."
With an incredulous snort, Dubh rolled his eyes. The man grinned, "True, if the scouts thought they weren't a threat, they might not say anything to anyone else. Well then, let us be off before our unwanted visitors get into trouble."
-oOo-
It was strange to be wearing soft, supple leathers instead fine linen and silk, with her golden tied back in a loose tail instead of tightly bound braids. Yet it was freeing as she rode slowly with her small party along the streets of Gwaren. She smiled a little at the way her two ladies were chattering excitedly about the adventure of the day. Maybe she should do this more often.
That thought repeated itself as the citizens they passed smiled to see their Teryna riding instead of hidden in a closed carriage. A few even stopped to greet her with cheerful respect or to give their blessings. Anora was unexpectedly charmed when a little girl, her chubby cheeks covered with the mud she was playing in, ran up to her clutching a bedraggled flower she hastily picked for "the pretty lady"
The party had paused to allow a passing herd of sheep to continue on their way, the shepherds were practically falling over themselves to apologize for the inconvenience when they saw who had been stopped. She'd accepted their apologies even as she assured them that she didn't mind. With that pause the little girl saw her opportunity.
Smiling she slid off her horse to accept the child's gift even as a frantic woman, presumably the child's mother, came flying out, "Kimmee! You're bothering the Teyrna!"
Even less than a year ago she wouldn't have gotten down, if she'd even been riding. But the unexpected gifts of life, freedom and family lands had made her start reassessing her priorities. Then spending the past three seasons at her teyrnir, seeing the people waiting for her to leave the way her father had... All these things caused Anora to smile at a grubby child with a battered flower and accept the child's heartfelt gift with a smile that warmed her sky blue eyes.
That smile included the mother who babbled, "Oh, My Lady, I am so very sorry, my daughter just loves people. She knows you're important and all and shouldn't be bothered -"
"Be at peace, good woman. There is much to be said for a child with such a big heart." Much to her own surprise, she reached down to ruffle the girl's silky hair, causing a happy burble. "May the Maker smile upon you and your family, good woman."
As a whim, and much to little Kimmee's delight, she tucked the flower behind one ear before she got back onto her horse. As the mother led the girl back into their modest cottage, scolding the unrepentant child, Anora found she was still smiling from the encounter. Her two ladies didn't say anything, but they didn't have to with the surprised delight in their eyes. Rufus, an old, battered veteran that had served her father for decades, and now served as her master of arms, gave her a rare smile of his own. In a voice that was permanently harsh from yelling on, and off, the battlefield, he said, "Yer da would be proud of ya, milady. If I may be so bold."
"Truly?"
He nodded, "Yep. He always grieved a bit that his grubby lil girl grew up into a lady. Not he didn' love ya any less, but he always hoped ya wouldn't lose yer touch with the people."
She thought that over as he winked at her, "He never did tell ya when he got covered in flowers by a buncha maids, did he?"
Wondering how safe this story was going to be, she mutely shook her head. Clearly aware of his audience, Rufus leaned back a bit in his saddle, making a production of getting comfortable. Though his eyes never once stopped scanning the area for possible threats. "Right then. Well, this was back a mighty ways, when he an' Maric, Maker rest their souls, finished kickin' them Orlesian bastids outta the kingdom."
He gave the ladies a rueful look, but one as unrepentant as little Kimmee's, "Beggin' yer pardon, ladies. This old soljer is usta usin' salty language."
Anora coughed, trying to maintain her dignity such as it was, given the soggy flower drooping over her ear, as Davina and Sinnie giggled. Sinnie breathlessly said in her best court manner, "Oh good sir, please do continue! We're not quite so delicate as our appearances may seem!"
They all laughed at her overly dramatic fluttering, including Sinnie herself. Rufus's mouth twitched slightly, "So as expected, the two of 'em, an' somma their men, like yers truly, went on a big procession 'round the country so's people could get an eyeful o' their new king and their heroes. Most o' the stops were as 'spected. Lotsa speeches, feastin' an' such. Pretty girls wantin' ta know some o' the bright'n'shiny hero-types up close an' personal-like."
The cheeks of the women flushed once they understood what he was talking about, he scratched the back of his head, "Um."
The Teyrna, feeling like a younger girl than a woman grown, just waved him on with a slightly embarrassed laugh. He nodded, "Right then, sorry 'bout that, mildadies. Anyways, we stopped at this little bit of a town. They were known fer their flowers an it seems that spring the Maker an' the Blessed Andraste really showered their favor 'pon them blooms. They had a rather...gen'rous amount growin'. Well, some of the lasses, they wanted ta show the Hero of River Dane their admiration 'n such, so they made lots o' flower wreaths. They bedecked Maric first as was right an' proper, then they got to yer da, Milady."
The man actually chortled at his memory, "By the time them lasses got done with 'im, 'e was just a man shaped mound o' flowers on top o' 'is horse. Who thought they was mighty kind ta give 'im a snack so he started munchin' on the bunch at yer da's knee."
The image of her very dignified father covered in so many flowers reduced her to hiccuping giggles from laughing so hard. Davina and Sinnie joined in, and while their guards grinned as well, they didn't let themselves be distracted by the story.
While those they passed by didn't hear what the crusty, old guard had to say, they did see they Teyrna laughing, with a flower behind one ear (that it was sad and battered thing that added to the charm) which brought out broader smiles from her people. And they wondered.
Teryn Loghain had been greatly respected, though his memory was somewhat tarnished from his actions during the Blight, but he wasn't the most approachable person. His daughter had seemed to grow up the same way. And when she returned after the Archdemon was dead, had seemed even more remote. Ironically, it was during the hard winter now past that she seemed to thaw out and the part of the ruler they always hoped for.
That hope was even greater now. The spring planting was done, both in crops and people. It would be interesting to see what the noblewoman would bloom into.
As for Anora, at that moment she was enjoying hearing tales of her father when he was a young man, even then he was a stolid, responsible lad. Which made him quite the foil to Maric's wild ways. Even as she laughed at some of the scrapes the two had gotten into them, she wondered again. What happened to you father that made you do what you did?
But this wasn't a day for such questions.
Determined to enjoy the glorious spring day, she set her sorrows to the side. Unlike her normal outings, she helped set up the simple trappings for the planned picnic. They'd chosen a meadow not too far from the city, but one remote enough for some privacy. She laughed as first Sinnie, then Daniva, shared stories about the foolishness the men in their lives, both family and friends, had gotten up to as they grew up. She even dared to share a few stories from the time she a young woman in King Maric's court.
The sudden pang of grief at the thought of Maric surprised her.
She shook it off for the moment, then froze when Rufus spoke with every expectation of being obeyed, even by his Teryna. All pretense of the bumbling soldier vanished from his manner, "Ladies, get to the horses. If you can't saddle them fast, ride bareback. There's trouble coming."
Fear closed her throat and made her hesitate. Not caring if he offended her, Rufus hauled her to her feet and pushed her to one of the guards, "Get her out of here!"
As the guard grabbed her upper arms with a bruising grip and started to hustle her to the mounts, she looked over shoulder and her heart began to pound in fear. In the treeline of the meadow was movement that could only be a large number of armored men. Daniva's screams drew her attention as more armored figures appeared on the other side.
Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the livery of the Royal Guard. Her thoughts raced, it couldn't be right. Alistair had made it clear that even if he didn't like her, he respected her as Teyrna. And if he were going to have her arrested, they would've been at her estate, not out here.
And if it were Marlana, she'd already be dead. And at the young woman's hand.
The guard threw her to the ground as arrows began to fly.
