Author's Note: Two chapters were posted today, so be sure to read Chapter 11 before this one so that this chapter makes sense. I've yet again taken a few liberties with the plot of the game to fit it to this story.
As always, thanks for reading!
"You want us to do what?" Bryon shouted, and Bena didn't take it as a good sign that he was now yelling at their monarch.
"I want you, your sister, and Alistair to go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon during the battle," Cailan repeated. "This is an important part of our campaign."
"This is ridiculous," Bryon retorted.
"Bryon!" Bena said reproachfully.
Bryon turned to his sister, and said, "What, Bena? Being a Warden was supposed to mean that I would be able to do more to fight off darkspawn, but now it seems as if I should have stayed with our army if I had wanted to actually fight in this battle."
The arguments continued for a time, with a mage, Duncan, and Teyrn Loghain offering their own opinions on the upcoming battle. The teyrn had looked particularly grim from the moment Bena and her brother had entered the king's tent. Bena couldn't be certain, but it seemed as if Loghain's expression turned fouler when he looked at her. She figured that it might have something to do with his obvious distaste for Wardens.
The bickering came to a halt when another man barged into the tent. From the look of him, he appeared to be a scout. He bowed deeply to the king, and said, "Forgive me for the intrusion, your highness, but I bring news of Lord Fergus Cousland."
"What is it?" Bryon demanded.
"We found his party, milord," the man began, but paused before continuing. Whatever he had to say was obviously difficult for him. "They were brutally slaughtered by the darkspawn."
Bena felt crushed by loss once more, and Bryon seemed to turn to stone. Her brother turned to the scout and asked, "Did you recover Lord Cousland's remains?"
"No, milord," he replied, looking pale. "They...they tore the bodies apart. There wasn't enough left to...to clearly identify his remains." Bena felt bile rising in her throat. When the man had said 'brutally,' he apparently had meant it.
But Bryon was still questioning. "If that's the case, then you can't be certain he was among them." That brought a fleeting sense of hope to Bena, but the scout then reached into a pocket of his cloak and retrieved a gold ring with the Cousland seal upon it. It was the ring her older brother had worn since his sixteenth birthday.
"We found this among swords and shields that indicated that the men were from Highever," the scout said, handing the ring to Bryon. Bena's twin gripped the ring tightly in his hand, and Bena saw from his expression that he looked utterly defeated. She felt the same way, but she seemed to be facing more of a struggle to hold back tears.
Then the king suddenly spoke up, "Leave us—everyone but the Wardens." After making several signs of annoyance, his other advisers cleared the tent. "My Lord Bryon, my dear Lady Bena, you have no idea how truly sorrowful I am over your losses. Losses that shall no doubt be mourned across the whole of Ferelden." Cailan said earnestly, moving around his desk to stand closer to the Wardens. "But, Duncan, this now forces us into a bit of a predicament."
"Your majesty?" Duncan asked.
"I have before me the only two people who hold a rightful claim to the teyrnir of Highever, yet both of them are Grey Wardens. I would ask that you release one of them from your service, for Highever should only ever belong under the rule of a Cousland."
"Your majesty, I fear it is not that simple," Duncan replied. "Once a person is a Grey Warden, they forever remain a Grey Warden and surrender all claims to titles and properties. Only on rare occasions throughout the Wardens' history have exceptions to this practice been made."
"Then this shall have to be one of those occasions, Duncan. I need someone I can trust in Highever."
"Your majesty, it is not a Warden's place to become involved in politics unless absolutely necessary. And rejoining the ranks of the nobility can hardly be considered necessary when we are face with a blight."
"If we are even faced with a blight, Duncan. There has yet to be a sign of any archdemon," Cailan retorted, sounding frustrated. He sighed and then continued, "But no matter, if this is a blight, I will not press the issue. If not, then we shall discuss this further after the battle tomorrow."
The king then turned to Bryon, "Are you willing to carry out our plan, milord, and light the beacon?"
Bryon was staring blankly at his closed hand, which now held the only thing that they had left of their brother. Bena could feel him holding back his emotions, and despite the king returning to an earlier point of contention, her brother maintained his composure. "I will light the beacon as you have requested, your highness," he replied. "If you will excuse me, I have business to tend to with the army of Highever, now that…circumstances have changed."
Bryon quickly went out of the tent's exit, and Bena followed him, grabbed his arm, and stopped him from storming off. Duncan slipped past the pair, offering them what privacy he could.
"What, Ben?" Bryon snapped, as he turned around. From the expression on his face, it seemed as if he had now decided to unleash his emotions, and anger was at the forefront.
"Nothing," Bena said, surprised by his bitter reaction. "It's just that we're both upset, and I thought you might want to talk…like we use to do."
"No, Ben, I don't want to talk. I just want this constant series of waking nightmares to end—and talking isn't going to help with that." He pulled his arm free from her grasp and walked off into the night.
Bena felt lost and alone. Both of her brothers had left her—one by death, and the other by his own freewill. She stood at the entrance of the king's tent looking out across Ostagar uncertain of what her next move should be. Then a hand at her right elbow suddenly turned her around.
She stumbled into the gold heavy armor of the man now holding her arm. "Lady Cousland, are you all right?" Cailan asked.
She offered an unconscious response, muttering, "I'm fine."
"But I know you're not," the king said, taking hold of her left arm as well and pulling her in closer. "It was silly of me to have even asked such a question. I have no doubt you must be in anguish over the loss of your parents and now the loss of your older brother. Why do you not come back inside? We can speak more comfortably in there, and I can do my best to ease your sorrows."
A part of her was tempted by Cailan's offer—the part of her that wanted nothing more than to be held reassuringly through her grief. But the rest of her mind knew Cailan's reputation and doubted that 'easing her sorrows' involved only holding. Trying to be at least somewhat diplomatic about the mess she was now in, Bena took a step back from the king and gently tried to release herself from his grip, saying, "Thank you for your offer to console me, your majesty, but I must go and prepare for the trip to the Tower."
"Yes, perhaps now is not the time for such comfort," he said, sighing. The king then released one elbow and she began to turn away from him when he gripped the other tighter and said, "Wait." She spun back towards Cailan to see him reaching behind his back and retrieving a letter he had kept there. He handed it to her and said, "You are to read this after the battle is won and then come to me."
"What is this, your majesty?"
"Know that it is something important for all of Ferelden and do as I say with it. Read it after the battle and then come to me. I will make matters clearer then." Once he had said that, he let her go completely and returned to his tent.
Still upset and now a bit confused, Bena stowed the letter in her pack and turned away from the king's tent. She headed in the general direction of the Warden's camp, but kept her face down as she walked, staying oblivious to her surroundings. She saw another pair of boots in her path, but couldn't bring herself to react to them. Before she ran into the person, the owner of the boots grabbed her arms and steadied her.
She looked up to see Alistair's face before her, his eyes filled with concern. "Bena, are you all right?" For the briefest of moments, he reminded her of Cailan. After all, the king had just asked her nearly the same question and had been holding her in nearly the same way. And beyond that, some of their features were quite similar too, but Alistair had warm, amber eyes whereas the king's were an icy blue, she noticed. Then, those amber eyes went from showing concern to flashing with anger, as Alistair said, "But you're not all right. You've been crying." He released one of her arms to brush away a tear that Bena hadn't realized had fallen down her cheek. "Did Cailan do something to offend you?" Alistair demanded.
"No," Bena replied, taken aback by Alistair's question. "He basically just offered his condolences."
"Condolences?"
"Yes," Bena began, unsteady. "My older brother, Fergus…they found evidence that he…was killed in the Wilds."
"Oh, Maker's breath, Bena. I'm so sorry," Alistair said, as Bena realized that the one hand he had on her arm was about the only thing keeping her upright. His other hand went to cup her cheek. "Is there anything I can do?"
His concern and support seemed truly genuine and, unlike Cailan's, unconditional. He wanted to help her, and Bena found she couldn't resist his offer. She knew what she needed at that moment, and hoped Alistair wouldn't find it too inappropriate.
In a swift movement, she leaned into him and pressed her hands and forehead against his cool, grey iron breastplate. "May I just stay here for a moment?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound too pathetic to him.
Alistair seemed to freeze at her touch, remaining motionless and silent, and Bena began to fear she had overstepped her bounds with the young Warden. She was about to pull away and apologize when the hand that had been holding her cheek now stroked the back of her head and the other moved around her waist.
She didn't know how long they stayed there.
Amee was feeling emboldened. She didn't know if it was from being a Warden, or from having new, clean robes, or from finally being fed up with herself for moping around for so long. Whatever the reason, Amee was beginning to feel like her old self again, and as such, she was looking for a productive way to spend her time before the upcoming battle.
When Alistair and Bena returned to the Warden's camp and Amee was informed of how Bryon had treated his sister, Amee felt like she found just the thing to do with her time. She was going to find that human and make him realize what a jerk he was being to a woman that was quickly becoming a close friend of hers.
Amee made her way to the Cousland's camp, taking only a moment to pause and enjoy the feel of a warm, night breeze moving through her free hair. She noticed too that the wind made the skirts of her burgundy robes rustle in a most pleasant and fluid way.
The eagerness of Highever guards to help her and direct her to Bryon's tent made her wonder if the robes were perhaps too 'pleasant,' but she dismissed the thought, knowing that she liked them and that was all that really mattered.
She found Bryon's tent and strode into the candlelit shelter to discover Bryon apparently brooding over paperwork. Astor barked happily at her appearance, and she smiled at the dog before turning a serious face toward Bryon and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"I'm making sure my men are prepared for war and for whatever might come next," Bryon replied without looking up from the table.
"So you're going to completely disregard your sister while you do that?"
"What passes between myself and my sister is our business, not yours," he said, his tone becoming angry.
"I'm here because you're obviously not handling that business well," Amee retorted, her voice turning heated as well.
Bryon looked up from the table, glared at her, and bitterly said, "I'm handling it just as well as you handled Nolan's death."
When she had entered the tent, Amee had just been annoyed—now she was furious. She crossed the distance to Bryon and slapped him fiercely across his cheek. When he began to turn his face back to look at her, Amee raised her hand for a second strike, but Bryon caught her wrist with an ungloved hand. She tried hitting him with her free hand, but he caught that wrist as well.
She considered using magic to knock him down, but now that they were this close, Amee caught a glimpse of Bryon's eyes. He had always acted so confident and commanding that Amee had thought he was just being rude and unfeeling about his sister's grief. She didn't stop to consider that even a person as strong as he was might be behaving this way to try to deal with his own losses. But his eyes said it all. There was so much pain in those deep green eyes that Amee loosened her stance and stopped struggling in his grip.
"I'm so sorry, Bryon. I didn't realize how you must be suffering, too," she said, shaking her head. As she softened, she saw something new appear in his eyes, and suddenly he had closed the inches separating them. The warm, passionate lips upon hers caught her off guard. When a soft, moist tongue slid across her lips, she could do nothing to refuse it entrance to explore her mouth.
A moan escaped her, and that seemed to encourage Bryon. He released her wrists and placed one hand at the small of her back and weaved the other into her hair, all the while deepening their kiss.
She didn't know if it was from the warm, wonderful sensations she was feeling or just from his strong arms lifting her, but she knew her feet were no longer on the ground. One of her arms wrapped around his neck, and the hand of the other went to brush her fingers through his hair. She raked the short hair on his head, and suddenly realized it was much shorter than she was used to.
That one thought threw her—everything about this was different than what she was used to. His arms were muscular, like a soldier, not a mage. She was pressed against armor, not robes. And those lips—however experienced and delicious they might be—weren't the lips she was familiar with. No, this wasn't the familiar; this was something different. She hesitated and wondered for a moment if she was really ready for something different, or if part of her was still yearning for the familiar.
Bryon seemed to sense her uncertainty and set her down before breaking the kiss. The sadness she felt when his lips left hers seemed to provide a strong argument for forgetting the past and moving on to something different, but part of her was grateful that he hadn't forced her to make that decision right then and there.
"I probably shouldn't have done that," Bryon said. "It was a bit impulsive of me… You came down here to talk sense into me, and I go and do something completely senseless."
"Oh," Amee replied, somewhat hurt at him calling their kiss 'senseless.' "Does that mean you didn't want to kiss me?"
"No," Bryon answered firmly. He put his hand on her cheek and tilted her face toward his. "I wanted to kiss you. I still want to kiss you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to kiss me back just because you feel sorry for me. I want you to be kissing me for more than that."
"Maybe I was," Amee replied, feeling warm once more.
He briefly and chastely brought his lips to hers, before saying, "Glad to hear it. Perhaps after the battle, once we've had time to put all the horrors of the past few days behind us, then we can continue this discussion. Until then, though," he said, now playing with strands of her hair, "I don't want to force you into anything."
Part of her wanted to tell him that he could force her into his bedroll right now, but another part was still unsure. He was right. Just hours since their Joining and only hours away from a massive battle—now didn't seem like the best moment to be making decisions like this.
"Thank you," she said, pecking his cheek. "I guess I should head back to the Wardens' camp now, if you're all right?"
"I will be," he replied. "And yes, I was being rude toward Bena. I'll speak with her as soon as I get back to camp myself. You could wait here, and I could accompany you back to camp once my affairs are in order, if you'd like."
She knew staying so close to him right now would be dangerous to her resolve, so she declined his offer, saying that she could make it back fine on her own. Despite that, he still sent Astor with her.
She felt conflicted on her walk back to camp, wondering what the right course of action was given that, while Bryon had touched her, she was still thinking about the touch of another. She wondered why the feeling of betrayal she had towards her old love didn't burn away any desire she might feel for him. It would make things easier, so why did her heart keep making things complicated?
Astor barked happily beside her, and suddenly she found herself envying the dog's attitude toward life.
