AN: Sorry for the delayed update.
A huge thank you to my reviewers: Shakespira, Jinx1983, RandomWittering, Warrose, Fifespice, Fairy, StarrChilde, Liso66, Eva Galana, Lemonjay, you keep me going. As a special thank you to my 100th reviewer Aya001, I have asked if I could use Aya's name for a named character in the story and happily Aya agreed! That character will be introduced later in this chapter and will play an important role as the story unfolds.
Lastly, a big hug and thank you to Nithu, my awesome beta!
Chapter 20 - A time for love, a time for hate
Despite Loghain's protests, Anora was determined to have a funeral for Cailan. She pointed out to her father that the people would expect it, and not doing so would only raise questions; Loghain reluctantly agreed.
Wanting to capitalize on the shock and grief people felt over the loss of Cailan, Anora was decisive and efficient in planning the funeral. She arranged for the construction of a bier to hold Cailan's coronation armor. She organized a procession that would escort the bier as it was carried through the streets of Denerim, where it would pause at the Chantry for a special service. The procession would end at the harbor, where the bier would be loaded on to a boat and set ablaze. Anora had planned everything to the last detail. She told her advisors, and the nobles assembled in Denerim, that it was the least she could do 'to honor my fallen husband, our beloved King.' Even the pathos in her voice was carefully calculated play on people's sympathy.
The day of the funeral, the weather was dreary even by Ferelden standards. However, neither the dank weather nor the threat of a Blight deterred Fereldens from lining the streets. They were there to pay tribute to their fallen King, sometimes with flowers, but mostly with tears. Anora, as Queen and widow, walked alone, directly behind the bier. Dressed in a somber colored gown, she looked appropriately grief-stricken while maintaining the poise and grace that has always been her hallmark. Her father and the other chancellors followed behind Anora.
As planned, the procession arrived at the Denerim Chantry where Mother Perpetua stood near the bier and led those assembled in Transfigurations 12. Hundreds of voices joined together in grief; clear and strong they recited:
O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest nights
Make me to rest in the warmest places.
O Maker, hear my cry:
Seat me by Your side in death
Make me one within Your glory
And let the world once more see Your favor
For You are the fire at the heart of the world
And comfort is only Yours to give.
Once the chant concluded, the procession continued to the harbor. The bier was loaded onto a boat and as it floated a way, a specially chosen Royal archer shot the flaming arrow into the boat. Those gathered bade a final farewell to their King and Anora stood and watched until the boat vanished on the horizon. A set of coaches waited to bring her, her father, and the chancellors back to the palace.
Loghain and Anora shared a coach, but rode together in complete silence. When they returned to the palace, Anora retired to her rooms. Loghain went straight to his own room and poured a large brandy. Sitting at his desk, emotionally drained, he stared blankly into the dimly lit room. There would be no funeral for Gareth. Anora worried that it would draw attention away from mourning Cailan. While Loghain could have forced this issue, Ferelden was already on unstable ground. If the people could unite over their shared grief, like they had done over Maric, then perhaps it would be worth it. Loghain swirled the amber liquid in his glass. How fitting that Cailan would prove more useful in death than he ever was in life. He quickly drained the glass and poured another, and then a third.
Loghain could hear Gareth's voice. 'Da, Cailan is a good man; you can't keep expecting him to be Maric'. Loghain had lost count of the number of times Gareth had to remind him of that. Gareth always seemed to understand my moods and how to lighten them. He continued to drink. So many memories! Gareth's birth, his first sword, talks at the Gwaren tavern, traveling through the Teyrnir, All…gone. Soon brandy began to spill out of the glass as Loghain's body jerked with sobs. Quiet tears of agony spilled down his face. Maker, I miss my boy. I miss my son! The glass fell to the floor as Loghain gave in to the grief that tore through the remnants of his soul.
"Maker, that was an exhausting experience!" Anora said, as she dropped on to her chaise. Rendon Howe, now Teyrn of Highever, sat across from his Queen.
"Yes, but you did splendidly. Your subjects actually think you mourn for Cailan. I do say your father also played his part very well."
Anora rolled her eyes. "Father was thinking about Gareth. I told him to simply pretend the funeral was for him."
"Perfect."
Anora simply smiled. "Well, seeing as how we couldn't have a funeral for Gareth, it made perfect sense for my poor father. That people now believe he too mourns for Cailan? That's simply a bonus." Anora stood, walked over to the window and peered through the curtains. The streets of Denerim were still filled with mourners. "At least the funeral distracted people from my recent announcements. The Bannorn, it seems, is going to be difficult to sway."
"Yes, it's a pity that Bann Teagan was so vocal in his opposition. Although I imagine he will soon have more pressing concerns to occupy his time." Howe said, with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Yes, it was fortunate for my Father that he was able to apprehend that malifcar before the Chantry could get their hands on him. With the Guerrin family absent from Ferelden politics, it will, as least, be easier to bring the Bannorn to our side."
"Easier, but not easy." Howe reminded. "We need to settle this civil unrest quickly, especially with the Darkspwan nipping at our heels. Haste will require a show of might, and that will require a full treasury. I'm meeting with your father tomorrow to discuss possible ways to fill our coffers."
"You are a dedicated adviser, Teyrn Howe, how shall I ever repay you?
"Your Majesty, it is simply a privilege to serve the Queen of Ferelden."
After telling her that Fergus was alive, Gareth and Siobhan spoke only with their hands, their lips, and their bodies. Lying in each others arms they knew time was fleeting. There were many questions that needed answers and Gareth was the first to speak, "Siobhan, I don't know how much more time we have."
"I know my love, I keep forgetting that this is just a dream."
"And it's a good dream." Gareth smiled as he held her tighter. "I know what happened at Ostagar, but what happened after I left Highever?"
Siobhan told him about Howe's attack. Desperately trying not to cry, she told him how she and Duncan had fled to Ostagar only to find out that he and Fergus had been declared dead. She could feel Gareth's body stiffen with anger, but she went on. "As soon as Cailan told me, I went straight to your father's tent. He was sitting on the bed, unwashed, drunk. I thought he must be distraught, so I spoke softly to get his attention."
Siobhan took a deep breath and went on. "Gareth, he looked at me with hatred in his eyes. He accused my father of trading Ferelden secrets to Orlais; he even showed me a letter from a Chevalier implicating him."
That bastard! "How did he get this letter?"
"I don't know. I believe that he's working with Rendon Howe, who has access to many dark corners of Thedas. I told your father that it was an obvious forgery and that the Landsmeet would never believe it. He said they would once they were presented with my father's confession."
"Confession? That's insane!" Gareth looked at Siobhan in total shock. It's like she's talking about a complete stranger.
"I accused him of being paranoid, of being Howe's pawn. Then I started to think that maybe it was his grief talking, so I tried to calm down. I reminded him that we were a family. That's when he told me that as the daughter of a traitor all my lands and title were forfeit."
"I told your father that I was carrying our child, his grandchild. He accused me of lying. I told him that my pregnancy could easily be confirmed. Then…" Her shoulders started to shake, as the tears streamed down her face. "Then. He said, 'But not…the identity of the father.' I was furious. I took my dagger. I tried to kill him. Gareth, I tried to kill your father!" She gasped, "I'm so… sorry!" She collapsed into his arms sobbing uncontrollably.
Anger clouded Gareth's vision and sorrow gripped his heart. He wrapped his arms around her, held her close, his voice a mere whisper, "Shh, cariad. Shh. You've done nothing wrong; you have no reason to apologize for anything!"
Siobhan looked at her husband. She could feel the hurt and anger she saw his eyes. "Duncan conscripted me. He said he had done it to save me from being tried for attacking a representative of the Crown. He…he felt that I wouldn't live to see a trial."
Gareth held her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. "My precious love, if I had known how truly paranoid my father had become, I would never have left you at Highever. I would never have left your side. I promise you, Loghain, Anora, and Rendon Howe will pay for this." They will pay with their lives.
Siobhan caught that Gareth referred to his father by name. "Gareth, he's still your father and he loves you."
"No, My Dearest, my father is dead. That man is not my father."
"Gareth, we don't yet know the whole story. Right now the Blight is the most important fight we have. If we lose that, we lose everything."
"I know, I know." Wiping her tears away with his thumbs, he said, "I love you my Lady."
Siobhan smiled, "And I love you."
Gareth opened his eyes, the sun streamed through the window; sitting up he looked at Fergus. An unbelievable sorrow filled Gareth's heart. "How do I tell him?"
Siobhan woke up in her tent; sitting up she hugged her self, tears of joy rolling down her face, Fergus lives!
Morrigan awoke; she was disoriented, confused, and very tired. She stood up and stretched, then she remembered:
She was on her back, Udell kneeling next to her, "Geheimer lehrling, are you alright? You fell, I was worried."
"I am fine, Udell. I…I do not know what happened."
Udell smiled, "Clearly you must get more rest Morrigan. I will guard the fade. Go. Sleep, lehrling, sleep."
Morrigan knew she should have been irritated at Udell, but she wasn't, she simply felt affection and pride for the wily man. T'would seem that while I am no longer his to teach, I still have things left to learn. If Udell could send me back from the fade without my knowledge, then he did not need me to bring Gareth and Siobhan together. What, mein lehrer, are you trying to teach me?
Udell stood in front of his altar, putting away the pipe. He smiled; Morrigan would soon realize his bit of trickery, but Gareth and Siobhan would remember their dreams. Flemeth, I will find out what you are planning, but not at Siobhan and Gareth's expense.
A knock sounded at Udell's door. He opened the door to see Aya, standing there.
"Come in my dear."
Aya walked into the hut. She was the senior female healer in the village and had been working with Udell on nursing their visitors back to health. She was half elven; Aya's mother, Raelyn, was a city elf from the Gwaren Alienage who had been traveling with her family, north to Highever when they were attacked by a Chasind tribe. Raelyn, only a child then, was the only survivor. The Ywen scouts found her in the wilds and brought her back to the village where she was raised by the tribe as one of their own.
Aya was petite like many elves; hair as black as night hung down her back in a shimmering wave. Her green eyes sparkled with a keen intelligence. She was exotically beautiful, with a strong presence, and she was a gifted healer. She looked at Udell and smiled as she said, "Good morning, Father."