Chapter 20: A Cruel Mercy

Keegan was sitting in the Arl's study drafting some more letters before he set out for Denerim to meet up with Anora. Maker, he hoped she was okay. He was safe and established enough in Redcliffe to reveal his hand, and if assassins were sent, he would already be gone. He written letters for Arl Bryland with Nathaniel's input. Even if Bryland had cut ties with the Howes after his sister's marriage to Rendon, he hoped Nathaniel's condemnation and Keegan's support would convince Bryland of the rightness of their cause. With Eve's help, he wrote the letter to bann Alfstanna, informing her of her brother's death, and the two of them sent their condolences. They left out the part about Jowan's conscription.

Letters were also sent to the majority of the bannorn and some key arlings, of course leaving out Ceorlic, ever Loghain's sniveling crony. He did not anticipate all of the letters arriving nor did he anticipate them being believed, but if he could sow doubt, that would be enough. Reports of Howe's treachery and Loghain's crimes— against both his king and the Chantry— would at least give the nobility pause. To his uncle Robert, bann of the Storm Coast, and his husband, Edward, he sent a more detailed letter written in the Cousland family cipher, which the Mac Eanraigs had adopted when mother married father. Mother's other two siblings had died at Ostagar with Fergus, but the son bann Robert still had all of his troops.

A knock on the door interrupted the monotony of his writing, and he was happy to be given the reprieve. "Come in," he beckoned.

Alistair Therin entered, his face a comical mix of anger and trepidation. "Teyrn Cousland," he said, bowing. "I have a matter I need to discuss with you." The bastard prince's usual levity was gone, replaced by a quiet fury. He'd seen that look from Maric at a landsmeet he attended as a child. He could scarcely recall what set the King off, but the look haunted Keegan for years to come. He could recall it with perfect clarity to this day.

"Yes, Warden Alistair?" he responded, his icy blue eyes peering at Alistair and trying to discern what set him off.

"I have come to speak with you about Warden-Commander Hissera and her most recent decision."

"Ah," Keegan intoned, realizing what this is all about. "The conscription of the blood mage, yes?"

"Yes, exactly! You understand! Surely you can ask her to change her mind, or convince her. You're a teyrn. We can't recruit a blood mage!"

"And what do your other Wardens think of the matter?" Keegan asked passively.

"They… Well, the dwarves don't care, but it's because they don't understand. And Enid is wary, but trusts Mercy. Cadoc feels as I do, and Rayne is fuming, but refuses to fight Mercy on it. Usually, I would trust the Commander, but this… This is too far."

"Alistair, this is a Blight. The Grey Wardens do whatever it takes to combat it, do they not? This isn't too far. Far from it."

"How can you say that?!" Alistair screamed, standing once again. If Keegan was startled, he didn't show it. "He poisoned Arl Eamon," Alistair continued. "It's his fault that all of those people are dead, that Connor might grow up without a father! I know how you feel about Eamon, but what Jowan did cannot be forgotten nor forgiven."

"Perhaps not, Alistair. But, again, this is a Blight. Your feelings don't matter; doing your duty and saving Ferelden are the things that matter. For that, there is no line I will not cross, no enemy I won't sleep with, no blood mage I would turn away."

"You can't be serious, Keegan. It might be war, but we still have our principles."

"This isn't war, Alistair. This isn't about conquering or winning. It's about survival. Of course I'm serious, with everything on the line."

"Really?" Alistair asked doubtfully. "And if Arl Howe decided to one day join the Wardens, or Loghain? What would you say then?" the bastard prince asked confidently, a smug smile finding its way to his lips.

"That's... That's simple. Loghain is one of the greatest generals in history, and his martial skill is surpassed only by his tactical mind. And Howe is… Well, he's a viper. He murdered my entire family and betrayed his oldest friend. By the same token, however, he is a tenacious fighter with a keen mind for underhanded tactics, and could also be an asset. If it meant stopping the Blight, I would charge into battle with Rendon Howe and the Empress of Orlais herself at my side," Keegan said, sounding more and more like a Tranquil as he continued talking. Alistair was speechless, absolutely flabbergasted that the last remaining Cousland could be so cold.

"Furthermore, Alistair, ask yourself why she is doing what she's doing, even outside of her duty as a Warden. Jowan is sure to be executed by the templars, yet the Commander is choosing to save him. Her parents may have been tal-vashoth, but they still grew up under the Qun, and under the Qun, names have meaning, and I have no doubt Warden-Commander Hissera's is no different."

"Mercy," Alistair said realizing the significance of it for the first time.

"Indeed. And hissera means hope. In her view, everyone is deserving of mercy, nobody is beyond hope of redemption. I think that's a commendable attitude to have. And if you disagree, take it up with your commander," he declared, pausing for a moment. "But stop whining to me."

"Do not presume you can have your dog fetch me like some bone whenever the mood suits you," Morrigan said as she strode into Rayne's room, throwing the door open in what was transparently an attempt at melodrama.

"Yet you came," Rayne said from his desk, looking up from what he was studying to meet Morrigan's eyes.

"Your mongrel was… Most insistent. Now, may I ask why I am here?" Garahel whined indignantly at that. He wasn't a mongrel; he was a pure-bred mabari! Morrigan could be so mean sometimes, but he still loved her.

Rayne closed the tome he was studying for the moment and opened one of his desk drawers, producing a short necklace made of several strands of silver chain. He stood up and walked towards her, holding it out.

"Oh? And what's this?

"A— A gift, if that would be acceptable," Rayne stammered. Why has he so nervous? Him and Jaime grew up constantly flirting with one another or with any number of other apprentices in the tower.

Morrigan turned around and help up any strands of hair that were not already tied up, inviting Rayne to put the necklace on. When his hands grazed her skin, he had to supress a shiver. Morrigan was electric.

"A fine gift! You have my thanks," she said, turning back around and eyeing him curiously. "Was this the reason for my summons? 'Twould seem this gift could have been given on the road when we set out tomorrow."

"You're right, but that's not the only reason I asked Garahel to get you" he said, motioning for her to follow him back to his desk as the mabari snuggled up beside the fire. "When I was in the tower, I… Well, I stole an incredibly interesting book from the First Enchanter. I've been trying to decode or translate it since I got it, but the language appears to be an odd variant of ancient elvish with traces of ancient alammari and hidden in a cipher," Rayne continued as he picked the book up from his desk. "Considering your… Unconventional upbringing, I was hoping that—" was all Rayne could say before Morrigan hungrily snatched the grimoire out of his hands and ran her hand along the cover with something almost resembling reverence.

"I take it you know what this is, then," Rayne asked, chuckling.

"I do indeed. 'Tis… A grimoire that once belonged to my mother. I was to ask you if you had come across it but… This… This is most fortuitous. You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately."

"Or…" Rayne said, putting his hand on her's and trying it. "We could do that tomorrow night, and spend this one… Finding other ways to occupy our time."

Morrigan considered for a moment before smiling at the elf and putting the tome on his desk. "Very well, Surana. 'Twill be most interesting to see if the rumours of Grey Warden stamina are to be believed."

Note: I know Jaime and Rayne already kissed and seemed pretty close, but this is the way I see it: mages are raised in isolation in the Circle, banned from marrying. If they reproduce, the child is taken from them. As such, I saw no reason why they would have any reason to be monogamous, or even have a real concept of ownership or claim when it comes to relationships. Kind of like a free love commune kinda thing. I'm not saying that everyone at the tower is having sex with everyone else all the time (not that that's a bad thing), but I picture it a lot more liberal than the outside world in regards to this issue.