Chapter Fourteen – In Their Halls Of Stone
Dragon Age 9:55
Orzammar
Orzammar, as one Ferelden scholar had succintly put it, was a riddle wrapped in an enigma locked in a box of mystery. There were few humans who ever saw Orzammar. Even those who did would never understand it fully. You had to be a dwarf to fully understand the fabled dwarven capital.
The city had always been something of a curiousity to the rest of Ferelden. Technically the dwarves didn't care that their capital was located in Ferelden territory. To them the borders of the surface world were as meaningless as the borders below ground were to the humans. Previous Ferelden kings had even tried to attack Orzammar, only to find out very quickly how well the dwarves could fight. For a people who battled darkspawn every day right at their proverbial doorstep, a few human armies didn't pose much of a threat. Trade in particular did much to smooth things over, the dwarves dominated most of the mining operations in Ferelden and their smithing and crafting and forging skills were second to none. While a dwarf was still considered an uncommon sight in some of the more rural villages, entire families had made permanent homes in the larger cities, including Denerim and Highever. Eventually the Ferelden crown settled on a policy of civil, if cool diplomatic relations with the Dwarven King.
Aedan had literally put King Bhelen on the throne, yet he often wondered if he had done the right thing. Being of noble blood himself he tended to favour a direct descendant of the Aeducan line...although some of the rumours bandied about King Andrin's son were spine-chilling, chief of which was the accusation that he had his brother and father assassinated to assume primary position the throne. The first official act of Bhelen's reign was to have his biggest rival Lord Harrowmont summarily executed and his family and closest supporters banished to the surface, something which shocked Aedan tremendously, despite his belief that he'd seen all there was to see of vicious bloody political intrigue. He was very relieved to have followed the advice of the Paragon Caridin and Shale to destroy the Anvil of the Void, he didn't like the idea of Bhelen having an army of golems at his beck and call.
Despite his less than auspicious beginnings, Bhelen had proven to be a breath of fresh air to an ancient society that sorely needed it. In a few short years he'd completely overhauled dwarven society, allowing the casteless rights and certain privileges in exchange for signing up to fight the darkspawn. While Aedan viewed it as a pragmatic decision, it had been met with a storm of criticism from the dwarven warriors and nobles. Things had gotten so bad Bhelen had dissolved the Great Assembly and ruled as supreme monarch, the first king in dwarven history to do so.
The royal entourage were greeted at the gates of Orzammar by a delegation of dwarven warriors and nobles, the cream of dwarven society. Alistair had worked hard at fostering close relations with Orzammar ever since he took the throne, and as a result trade and goodwill between both sides had never been better. Dwarves respected kings, even human ones, and they really respected Grey Wardens. In their eyes the Wardens were the only humans who seemed to understand their troubles against the darkspawn, something which only concerned the rest of Thedas every few centuries or so. It was little wonder Alistair was very highly thought of in Orzammar.
"Your majesty King Alistair," proclaimed a senior dwarf, dressed in rich, jewelled clothes that could have bought a nice house in Denerim. "King Bhelen has received your message and wishes to make it known that every comfort and assistance that Orzammar can offer will be extended to you. We are deeply saddened to hear that the time of your Calling has arrived, your noble sacrifice honour sus all."
Alistair clasped the dwarf's hand and shook it energetically. "Thank you for your kind words. I would like to meet with King Bhelen at his earliest convenience."
"Certainly, your majesty."
Aedan allowed Mirka to help him dismount and handed him the reins of his horse. Ever since Aeryn had rescued him the boy had been settling well into his new role as a stableboy under the watchful eye of Seth the farrier.
"Thanks lad."
"My lord," stuttered Mirka, not daring to look Aedan in the face. He scuttled off as fast as he dared, leading the horse away. Aedan chuckled and linked arms with Leliana.
"Remember the first time we came here? It wasn't winter yet, but it was still cold enough to warrant a second coat."
"I remember. We were so weary and hungry and scared, running from Loghain's men. Then we actually ran into a bunch of them trying to get in to speak to the dwarves. I don't know who was more surprised, us or them."
"That was a fight and a half. You know, I'd only seen a dwarf once or twice before, barely even heard of Orzammar, and yet we had to journey to meet their king with nothing but an ancient bit of paper. So much has changed, hasn't it?"
"Yes. It has," said Leliana tersely.
Aedan felt his heart sink. Leliana clearly hadn't come to terms with what was about to happen. The deshyr lords and ladies set off for the Gates of Orzammar, with their official marching band making an almighty din. After the formalities at the Gates had been concluded, the guards swung them open, and the party set foot into Orzammar.
A small part of Aedan's mind, the part that dealt with his fear, pessimism and general self-loathing informed him that it would be the last time he ever saw the sun or felt the wind. Aedan quietly informed the rest of his brain to beat it up. He had gone his whole life trying to overcome the endless wiles of Lady Despair, and he wasn't about to let her win now.
"This is bloody marvellous," breathed Darien, taking in the sights of Orzammar's entrance chamber. Of course, since much of Orzammar never set foot on the surface, the dwarves tended to think of it as the exit chamber, the final sight a dwarf would see before leaving his or her home for good. Since Bhelen had assumed the throne however extended contact had been made with Ferelden, and leaving Orzammar was hardly the exile it had been in the past. Still, the chamber was designed with those exiled dwarves in mind. It was an enormous, cavernous room, lined wall to wall with immense statues of dwarven Paragons, those great individuals who were worthy of the respect normally reserved for Ancestors, dwarves who had achieved some great deed or contributed in some profound way to their society and community. A dwarf leaving Orzammar had to literally turn his back to the gaze of the Paragons forever. It symbolised the exiled dwraf giving up all that it meant to be dwarfish.
He had discussed this with Leliana at length. According to her the dwarves with their highly rigid and static lives and social mores venerated the Paragons because they represented an escape from the path that society had dictated for them. Anyone could become a Paragon and be raised up higher than the highest noble, even if that person was a casteless or criminal. Legends were rife with stories of ordinary dwarves who had achieved Paragonhood in the unlikeliest of ways. There were the Paragons Wodeward and Burnsteen, who had exposed corruption at the highest level and caused the fall of kings and nobles. The Paragon Wayne, who had dedicated his life to fighting crime and injustice wherever he found it. Even the Paragon Balboa, who had fought barehanded against a couple of ogres and saved entire thaigs. The legends stretched so far back it was difficult to tell which was fact and which was mere fantasy. But all of it fascinated tale-tellers like his wife.
Oghren stopped before the statue of the Paragon Branka, his former wife and seeker of the Anvil of the Void. She had gone mad during her search, sacrificing her loyal clan members one by one to bypass the traps and pitfalls installed by Caridin to safeguard his greatest creation. It had turned out to be a nightmare machine however, and Aedan had been more than happy to follow Shale's advice and push the bloody thing into a flowing river of lava.
However, Branka had adamantly refused to let Aedan and his companions destroy the Anvil without a fight, and attacked the group. Including Oghren. The prickly berserker had been forced to defend himself against his own wife after spending years trying to look for her. Aedan shuddered at the thought of having to hurt Leliana in any way, much less kill her. However if he didn't go through with the ritual of the Calling, she might be forced to do the same to him.
"Ah Branka," sighed Oghren. "She'd scream at you if you so much as left the toilet lid up but by the Stone, she was a firebrand between the sheets. I didn't mind her screaming then!"
"Tell me more, Uncle Oghren," said Darien, grinning.
"I don't think you need to hear that Dare," said Leliana quickly, but Oghren had already launched into a graphic spiel of the hijinks he and Branka got up to. Aedan was only half-listening, apparently lots of leather and hot wax had been involved.
"Maker help us," muttered Leliana.
"He'll shut up quick enough as soon as he sees Felsi," said Aedan. Aeryn had left Duncan's side and wandered over to them. Like Darien and Rolann, she was taking in the sights with some awe.
"I see what you mean now father. Orzammar is truly magnificent. It's...it's almost too grand to describe, really. A few words wouldn't do the place true justice."
"I agree, but this is just the topmost chamber. The best sights are further in. The Diamond Quarter, the Proving Grounds, even the Commons. Everything is so different here, and yet amazing in its own way."
The dwarf commoners stood by and watched curiously as the procession made its stately albeit noisy way through the different Quarters. Whereas in Denerim any procession, even a royal one, would have been in danger of a few flung tomatoes and jeers, Orzammar set great store by status and formality. There were no loud exclamations or shoving, just respectful silence as they made way for the deshyr lords and Ferelden's king. The proclaimers and official criers were really getting into their task, Aedan supposed calling the names of the same old dwarven lords and ladies got old after a while. Now they had an army of human nobles to introduce to the public.
"Way way for his majesty Alistair of the great and glorious House Theirin, King of all Ferelden-on-the-surface! Way way for Queen Anora, his wise and gracious queen! Make way for the Warden King, the dwarf-friend, the human who walks in the dark!"
Oghren had explained the dwarven tendency to respect names and titles. Aedan hadn't expected them to be quite so lyrical about it however. Idly he wondered if the fact that he was once blackboard monitor back when he was a wee lad and Master Aldous was trying to teach him stuff would impress the dwarves. He caught himself listening out for his name.
"Make way for Teyrn Aedan of most noble House Cousland, lord of Highever, ex-Warden Commander! Make way for the Dragonslayer, the Bane of darkspawn , the Hero of the surface world!"
"Dragonslayer? I like the sound of that. Make sure you call me that in your official memoirs, you hear?"
"Sure thing dad."
"Make way for Teyrna Leliana, the lady of Highever and bardess of Orlais! Make way for the infallible archer, the mistress of song, the lover of nugs!"
The kids all cracked up giggling at the last bit, and Leliana joined in. Oghren had ridiculed her long and loudly for asking for a pet nug from Aedan, it made no sense to him to feed and water what was essentially food. Not being able to resist anything she asked of him, Aedan had paid a dwarf good money to get a nug for his wife, and was pleased at her delight. He wasn't so pleased about the name she chose for it however. He always felt a bit silly about calling out 'Schmooples!' whenever the damn thing had gotten lost.
The party eventually made its way to the Royal Palace, where the deshyr lords pompously waved aside the long line of supplicants waiting for an audience with the king and proceeded directly to the throne room. Felsi was waiting there patiently with her son Ayden, and they rushed over to Oghren's side as soon as they saw him.
A blast of trumpets and a resounding drumroll preceded their entry. The proclaimers stepped forward, filled their lungs, and practically bellowed the royal party's arrival.
"King Bhelen, protector of Orzammar and shield of House Aeducan, His majesty King Alistair of Ferelden!"
Bhelen stood up from his throne, a beaming smile on his face. Aedan supposed it might even have been genuine. Beside him was his wife, a pretty young woman named Rica. Aedan had heard she was casteless, but her marriage to Bhelen had elevated her to an unimaginable position of wealth and comfort. She was a testament to the ideals of freedom and equality that he espoused. There were some mutterings from the dwarves, but the fact that she gave the king four young, strong sons did much to smooth things over.
Alistair stepped forward and was greeted in a familiar and friendly manner by Bhelen. While initially he had a low opinion of the Grey Warden who said little and preferred to let Aedan do all the talking during their first encounter, everything changed once Alistair took the throne. Over the years he had come to appreciate Alistair's affable manner and eagerness to foster a strong relationship with the dwarves. Aedan by contrast had always thought Bhelen to be at best a manipulative schemer and at worst a psychotic fratricidal despot and never really bothered to hide it.
After the king and queen had exchanged pleasantries with the king and queen and prince, it was time for Aedan and his family to pay their respects.
"Your majesty," said Aedan, bowing. The others did likewise.
"Teyrn Cousland. It has been far too long since you last visited," said Bhelen smoothly. "About a quarter century, to be precise."
"...yes. Your majesty, allow me to introduce my wife Teyrna Leliana..."
"A delight to meet you again, my lady."
"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty," said Leliana.
"My son Rolann, Senior Enchanter of the Circle Tower and my heir to Highever..."
"Your majesty," said Rolann, bowing deeply. The assembled dwarves looked at him with considerable interest, almost none of them had ever seen a mage before.
"My younger son Darien, soon to be a knight of the realm..."
Darien copied his brother.
"And finally my daughter Aeryn, newly-wed wife of our crown prince."
"Ah yes," said Bhelen, kissing Aeryn's hand. She was about twice his height, but still managed to curtsey demurely. Leliana's lessons had some impact after all. "So sorry I couldn't attend the wedding, my dear. I do hope the gifts I sent were to your liking."
"Your majesty was extremely kind and generous," replied Aeryn. Bhelen might not have bothered to trvael to Denerim, but Aedan had caught a peek at his wedding gifts and they were worth practically half of the entire royal treasury. Despite all that had happened, the dwarfs did not lack for gold and jewels, nor their skill for craftsmanship. "My royal husband and I wish to express our profound gratitude."
Fair spoken, mused Aedan. He had managed to have a little talk with Aeryn before this, and emphasized that Ferelden's alliance with the dwarves was of the utmost importance. If she was going to be queen, a warm relationship with King Bhelen was essential, who would undoubtedly live for many long years to come. He was pleased she was making a start.
"My lords, it has come to my attention that you wish to undertake the Grey Warden ritual of the Calling?"
"Yes your majesty," said Alistair. "The time has come for the Teyrn and I to perform the last sacrifice that all Wardens must undergo. We wish to travel to the Deep Roads and battle the darkspawn within its depths."
"We dwarves honour every Grey Warden who undertakes the Calling," intoned Bhelen solemnly. "We live in a constant state of war, our best and brightest sent to the front lines to protect our homes and way of life. The human kingdoms tend to forget this, after all they don't even see a darkspawn unless a Blight is at hand. But the Wardens don't forget. They never do. The Grey Warden life of struggle and sacrifice is one that we respect. The hospitality of Orzammar is extended to every Grey Warden who walks our halls, but for you King Alistair, we will honour your Calling like no other. You are the Warden King, the man who defeated the Blight. You shall be sorely missed."
"Thank you," said Alistair. Aedan said nothing and Bhelen picked up on it. He was nothing if not perceptive.
"And you of course, Teyrn Cousland the Dragonslayer," he said quickly. "Without whom the archdemon would not have been defeated. The first Warden to survive the battle and live to tell the tale, as well."
Bhelen's tone was just a little bit too suspicious for his liking, but Aedan didn't mind. Let him try to figure it out. He just smiled and nodded.
"Likewise, we honour your sacrifice."
"Your compassion overwhelms, your majesty," said Aedan. Beside him Leliana dug a discreet elbow in his ribs.
"Oghren of House Kondrat. At long last you have returned to Orzammar."
"I have, your majesty," said Oghren. Miraculously he wasn't drunk and even managed to look presentable with shiny armour and neatly trimmed beard.
"You wish to undertake the Calling too?"
"I do. It wouldn't be right to let my best friends go off into the darkness without me."
Beside him Felsi couldn't suppress a small gasp. Oghren ignored it, but Ayden laid a hand on his mother's shoulder, trying to comfort her.
"Very well," said Bhelen, choosing to make no further comment. "In light of your decision, permit me to make all three of you honorary members of the Legion of the Dead."
Alistair and Aedan exchanged glances. The Legion was at once the most respected and the most feared organisation in Orzammar. Most people didn't even like to talk about it. All dwarves lived in danger of the darkspawn, but the Legion actively sought them out. They were the kingdom's first, last, and best line of defense against the relentless darkspawn attacks, although things had really quietened down after Aedan's deal with the Architect. Legionnaires held their own funeral upon joining, because signing up was a death sentence. It had started as a way for criminals and dwarves who had brought great shame upon their houses to redeem their honour, but it had gradually evolved into one of the best fighting units in all of Orzammar, and even Ferelden. 'Legionnaire' had become a byword for 'murderously efficient warrior'.
"Your majesty, if I may," cut in another dwarf. Heads turned to see a woman in battle scarred armour, with distinctive facial tattoos. She had a round shield on her back, and a waraxe at her hip. Other than his personal guard, only Legion members were permitted to openly carry weapons in the presence of the king.
"It sounds like a wonderful idea," she said, smiling. "I would be most pleased to welcome them into my Legion."
"Sigrun!" called Aedan joyfully. "It's wonderful to see you."
"And you, Warden Commander. What say the both of you?"
"Aye," said Alistair. "We would be most honoured to join the Legion."
Leliana reflected that her husband was a remarkably modest man for someone in his position. He was of noble blood and had gathered a considerable amount of titles, honours and accolades over the course of his life. He had a tendency of taking charge in almost every situation that he was in, and could be a little too authoritative at times. Yet he had seemed very surprised and touched at the number of people who had pledged to follow him into the Deep Roads.
Oghren had decided to venture into the Roads with him, leaving his wife and young son behind. Leliana had met them both and thought them to be very nice people, particularly Ayden, who was named after her husband and was growing into a fine warrior himself. He was fast friends with Darien, sharing similar personalities.
At least Aedan had given her warning weeks ahead. Felsi hadn't known about Oghren's decision at all. She was whacking him around the head and had to be practically dragged off him as soon as they were out of the Royal Palace.
The Legionnaire named Sigrun had stubbornly decided to return to Orzammar after helping Aedan to defend the city of Amaranthine. Initially encountering deep distrust and hostility from the rest of the Legion because of her supposed cowardice in Kal Hirol, she gradually won their respect by proving her courage in battle time and time again. Some said she was seeking the death denied to her at Kal Hirol, yet she always managed to survive. In time she rose to the position of the commander of the Legion, despite being both casteless and female. She frequently led expeditions into the Roads, even managing to retake a thaig and clearing out a substantial part of the ancient fortress of Bownammar. Now that Aedan had arrived, she pledged to join in his Calling together with him.
There was Alistair, of course. The king had claimed to feel the darkspawn taint as well, but Leliana sometimes wondered if he simply wished to accompany his oldest and best friend on his final journey. While Aedan had kept himself trim over the years, Alistair had rather enjoyed the comforts of palace life, and did not nearly look the templar warrior he once was. Still, even if it was true, she could understand his decision. After all, wasn't that what she wanted for herself?
Her husband was fiercely loyal to those he loved and considered his friends, and merely fierce to the rest of the world. Although he had won great acclaim for his deeds, his real strength lay in inspiring others. The number of Legionnaires who were to accompany Aedan on his Calling was tremendous. Many of them had fought by his side during the Blight, and wanted the opportunity to serve alongside him in battle one last time.
He had let them, of course, shaking hands and thanking crowds of dwarves over and over. Anybody who wanted to die by his side was allowed to do so. Anyone except his wife, it would seem.
They had been given rich, opulent rooms in the Royal Palace for the duration of their stay. Aedan and Alistair had been honoured with a ceremony for their entry into the Legion, a long process which involved much carousing, quaffing and feasting. Having attended no end of feasts in the past few weeks, Leliana quietly took her leave and made her way back to the palace. She was surprised to find that Alistair had done the same.
"Leliana!" called Alistair cheerfully. The king was all by himself. Even with the beard and belly, he still had the same twinkling, merry eyes that she remembered from the Lothering tavern all those years ago, so different from Aedan's deep and solemn grey.
"Hello Alistair. Aren't you with your family?"
"Oh Duncan's off somewhere with Aeryn, and Anora's speaking to Bhelen," said Alistair. He looked a little sad, and Leliana wondered if Aedan truly grasped the significance of what he had done when he had made the two of them get married. While it seemed like the best thing to do at the time, Anora wasn't exactly the warmest and most caring woman in the world. Alistair had not spoken a single word of complaint, however, and did his duty for the country despite being robbed of the right to choose his own wife. Living with her could not have been easy, and while another man in his position might have resorted to having a mistress on the side, not one word of such had ever reached Leliana's ears. Anora had even been known to display affection towards him from time to time. In his own right however Alistair had been an excellent king, and it suddenly hit her that she was really going to miss having him around. No sooner than she had thought of it, she told him so.
"That's very kind of you to say that my dear," said Alistair, with genuine gratitude. "I've had the greatest lords and ladies tell me they were sorry I was leaving, but with you at least I know you're telling the truth."
"You're welcome," said Leliana, and got no further before she let out a sob. This was all too much, having to say goodbye to him and Oghren and Aedan, while she was left behind to carry on in her grief.
"Please don't cry Leliana," said Alistair alarmedly, leading her to a bench and sitting down. "It makes it so much harder to say goodbye."
"I just don't understand why he doesn't let me come," she said. "He's leaving me, but you and Oghren are following him. I've been by his side for so long. We've seen and done so much together and now he's leaving me forever. I want to go with him, Alistair. I want to defend him with my last breath. He's going to die and I don't think I can carry on without him."
Alistair didn't say anything for a while, just held her while she cried and gave vent to her feelings. Finally she subsided, and accepted a silk handkerchief that he offered.
"Leliana, please listen to me. It's not an easy decision for him, in fact it might be the hardest he's ever had to make in his life. You do remember his own mother died defending his father against Arl Howe's men?"
Leliana nodded. Aedan had told only two people in the entire world the full story of what had happened on that night.
"He does want to be with you in his final moments, he wants it so desperately. But you know how Aedan is. He always does what is right, and that does not always coincide with what he wants. Although Eleanor chose to die at Bryce's side, he still thinks he should have saved her somehow. He told me more than once that he would have been grateful of his mother's care and counsel, had she survived and fled with him. Don't you see? He wants his children to have what he could not. He does not want them to be orphaned as he was."
Alistair paused while Leliana considered his words. Her children meant everything to her, but she loved Aedan so much she simply could not imagine living without him. However, he and Alistair were right. She had to carry on, for the sake of her children. Parenthood meant sacrifice every single day, and she would have to make the biggest sacrifice of all to do right by her children.
"Dear Maker, what a world it is when a woman is forced to choose between her children and her husband," she said bitterly.
"Then help us to make a world where that never has to happen again," said Alistair earnestly. "You know Anora will be left to rule, and someday Duncan will be king with Aeryn at his side. You will be a vital influence, always giving them the benefit of your experience and compassion and sense of mercy. Ferelden needs that, and I trust you to provide it Leliana. I always have. You do know I have made you an official member of the royal council? It is not a request, it is a direct order. Whatever happens in my country, I want your voice to be heard on the matter."
"I...thank you Alistair."
"And what about history?" he went on. "I need someone to set the record straight about what really went on during the Blight and all the other adventures you had with Aedan. Who better than the best bard I have ever known? Weave your tales and sing your songs so that what we accomplished will stand the test of time. Heroes die, Leliana, but legends live forever."
"I can do that," she whispered. "Yes, I could do that. Thank you Alistair."
A door opened, and the familiar sound of Aedan's whistle came echoing down the corridor. He had a terrible whistle, high and reedy and always out of tune, but he did it anyway. He caught sight of the pair of them and went over to them.
"Hello darling, I was wondering where you had slipped off to. Missed you at the ceremony, thought you might be back here."
"Yes, I was," she said, smiling and blinking away the last of her tears. Her arms went around Aedan's neck and she pulled him down to her lips for a long, loving kiss.
"Alistair was just explaining things to me. I should have thought about how your parents died, and why you wanted me to stay behind. I have been a selfish person, and I am sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Leli love," said Aedan. "Leaving you will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do, but we must endure for the sake of our children. One of the many, many reasons why I love you so much is because of what a wonderful mother you have been to our kids. I don't want them to lose you."
"I understand," said Leliana. She looked at Alistair. "Thank you for making me see things clearly. And thank you again for the place on the council. I promise to do everything I can to help Duncan."
"It was no trouble," said Alistair. His face brightened. "Say, what about a group hug? We haven't had one of those in ages."
Aedan laughed. "You're right. Hell, why not? You two are the best friends a man could ever have."
They did so, and Aedan gave Alistair an extra brotherly embrace.
"Thanks mate."
"Least I could do."