Chapter 25

The Landsmeet

Alistair urged Núria to talk to the nobles before finding Isabela, and she grudgingly agreed to do so. She found Leliana, who still had the templar's ring, and took her to the Gnawed Noble Tavern, where, fittingly enough, most of them were spending the time prior to the Landsmeet.

Leliana trudged off to a woman further in the back, while Núria stopped at two other people who were deep in conversation. Núria stepped close to them and cleared her throat. 'Whoever you are, I … wait, I know you,' one of them said. His demeanour had changed very quickly, he looked as though he was about to hug her. 'My son described you in great detail. He tells me I owe you his life.' Núria gave a dismissive gesture.

'I wouldn't have left anyone there,' she said. 'Not if there was a chance of saving them.' The man didn't even seem to hear her.

'When I saw my poor boy's legs,' he mumbled. 'I only wish Howe still lived that I might tear him apart myself. Is there anything I can do for you?' Núria nodded quickly.

'Yes, in fact there is one thing,' she said. The man rose, grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her.

'Name it, anything, it is yours,' he said fervently.

'Speak against Loghain in the Landsmeet,' she said. The man nodded.

'I will,' he said gravely. 'You have all the support I can muster.'

'Would you mind badly asking a few of the others for their support for us?' Leliana asked, approaching them. 'We need all the help we can get.'

'Most certainly,' he said. 'You have my thanks.'

'Alfstanna wasn't happy to hear her brother is dead,' Leliana said in an undertone. 'I gave her his ring, and she thanked me, and I told her he had been poisoned. In a way, that's even true. But it can't hurt if the other one spreads the news of what you've done.'

It was only two hours before the Landsmeet would start, so Núria hurried to the Pearl to see Isabela. She knew the time would barely be enough to learn anything, but she wanted at least to meet the woman and tell her that she would return afterwards. She found Zevran with her, standing opposite to her at the bar with a glass of wine and a smile. He caught Núria's eye when she entered and beckoned her. She approached, halting next to him. 'You are Isabela, I take it,' she said. The woman looked friendly enough and had a mischievous glint in her eyes.

'Indeed,' she said. 'And you are the fabled Grey Warden Núria Tabris. An excellent fighter, and a beautiful woman, I must say. You are exactly Zevran's type.' The Antivan laughed softly. 'So, my old friend, what is it you will do for me in exchange for my lessons?'

'Oh, I thought you promised me those lessons, a long time back, or am I wrong?' he asked. 'I declined, it's not my style really, I like relying on my strength. You told me if ever I was of a mind, I should tell you.' Isabela sighed.

'And here I thought we could have a little fun, later? Reminiscing?' Zevran smiled at her.

'Alas, what an offer, but again I have to say no,' he said with a small wink at Núria.

'Oh, did she manage to tame the tiger?' Isabela asked. 'Or both your tigers, as it were? The one in your chest, and the one between your legs?' Her eyes travelled unabashedly downwards, coming to rest at his middle. Zevran offered a soft chuckle.

'The one in my chest drowned in a pool of blood in Antiva,' he said drily. 'The other one turned out to be more of a mabari than a tiger.' Isabela's eyes snapped up.

'Oh? Smelly and drooling?' she suggested with a dangerous smile. Zevran raised his eyebrows.

'Is that what you remember?' he asked, unperturbed. 'If you had said large and beautiful, or something similar, but no … Well, not even a good-bye kiss for you then.' Núria grinned at their banter. She knew a number of people who would be horribly jealous, but she knew there was no need.

'A mabari, Zev?' she asked. 'Understands speech? Hard to imprint?' He smiled at her.

'Perhaps closer to my train of thought,' he said. 'Hard to imprint and sometimes a little attention seeking. But perhaps we should change the topic … Sanga here appreciates a good show, why don't you two get started, see how you get along?'

'And you?' Isabela asked him with a wry smile. Zevran laughed.

'I've always liked to watch,' he said, leaned sideways against the bar and nipped at his wine. 'Also, as I remember, you play best in a game for two.'

Núria enjoyed herself greatly with Isabela. She was a formidable fighter, and Núria had an idea that her lessons would not consist of many explanations. Actually, she never said a word as they engaged in a duel, Isabela simply repeated moves a couple of times until Núria managed to block them and began to use them herself, trying to work out when they would work. She never knew how much time had passed when Alistair stormed in, grabbing her and Zevran by the arm and dragging them along. 'Are you both insane?' he asked loudly. 'The Landsmeet is starting right now, what were you thinking?'

'I didn't,' Núria stammered, her heart racing.

'That's what I thought,' Alistair said scathingly.

They arrived at the Landsmeet chamber in complete disarray. Wynne greeted them, looking harried, but she refrained on commenting on their lateness. They crashed through the door and were stopped by Ser Cauthrien and a few soldiers. 'So finally you appear,' she said. 'And you too, Alistair. If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you? You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who assured you were born into freedom.'

'Get out of my way,' Núria snarled at her.

'Oh, no you will not desecrate the Landsmeet itself,' Cauthrien said coldly. 'The nobles will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this to rest. Once you're gone.' Núria glared at her.

'Move aside or I will make you,' Núria said loudly, drawing her weapons. Cauthrien mirrored her.

'I will end the threat you pose to Ferelden,' she replied. 'To arms, men!'

The ensuing fight was bitter and hard, and when finally they joined the Landsmeet, they were all panting and bloodied. Loghain was staring up at Eamon, asking 'Who will pull the strings?' His eyes snapped to Núria. 'Ah, and here we have the puppeteer,' he cried, pointing at them with one plate-gloved hand. 'Tell us, Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? How much Fereldan blood does Orlesian gold buy these days?'

'Orlesians?' Núria asked loudly. 'Orlesians, my arse. We have a blight, remember? Or did you think those disgusting fellows coming from the deep roads are Orlesians in disguise?'

'There are enough refugees in my bannorn to make it obvious the blight is real,' a woman from the balcony said, and Núria recognised her as the one Leliana had spoken to in the Gnawed Noble.

'The south is fallen, Loghain!' another said. 'Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?'

'The blight is indeed real,' Loghain replied. 'But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim they alone can end the blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?'

'You sold my people into slavery,' Núria positively shouted, anger and hatred boiling in her veins. 'You sold them to Tevinter to fund your war!'

'What's that?' the father of the boy they had freed from Howe's dungeon asked. 'There is no slavery in Ferelden. Explain yourself.'

'There is no saving the alienage,' Loghain said with a sad note to his voice. 'Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the blight comes here. Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden.'

'Ah,' Núria said with a faked look of understanding. 'So the good of Ferelden is why you let Howe torture its citizens. I was wondering about that.'

'Howe took my only son!' the boy's father shouted. 'The things done to him … some are beyond any healer's skill.'

'Howe was a grown man responsible for his own actions,' Loghain said with a hint of impatience in his voice. 'He will answer to the Maker for his crimes, as must we all. But enough of this. I have a question for you, Warden: What have you done with my daughter.'

'Oh, yes that,' Núria replied. 'Fascinating that you ask me that. I saved her from you, that's what I did.'

'You took my daughter - our queen - by force, killing her guards in the process,' Loghain said, pacing towards her and staring down at her with a fierce, obsessed look - the look of a man who was actually convinced of what he was saying. 'What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?' Anora, who had been leaning against the wall, made a step forward.

'I believe I can speak for myself,' she said calmly. Unlike her father she did not raise her voice. 'Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden.' Loghain's tone and demeanour changed, he looked at Anora with infinite sadness in his eyes.

'So the warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora?' he asked. She simply shook her head, looking up at the nobles, and they started declaring their allegiances - and all but two stood with Núria, who felt herself growing by a couple of inches with every shout of support. Zevran chuckled behind her.

'Hah, you lose,' he informed Loghain.

'Traitors!' Loghain screamed, his face contorted with madness. 'Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?'

'Call off your men and settle this honourably,' Núria suggested, her anger somewhat decreased and replaced by a savage kind of contentment. Loghain deflated visibly.

'Then let us end this,' he said. 'I suppose we both knew it would come to this. When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else. A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more of a compliment to you or me.' He closed his eyes for a moment. 'Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms for the duel.'

'It shall be fought according to tradition,' the templar's sister announced. 'A test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.'

'Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?' Loghain asked her. Núria heard Zevran clearing his throat behind her, but she couldn't let him do this. For a moment she considered letting Alistair stand against Loghain, but then she decided this was her fight.

'I'll do this myself,' she said firmly. Some of the pain had returned after her workout with Isabela, but she would stand her ground. She heard very soft muttering behind her and felt the slight tingle of magic, and the pain was gone, and she felt as though she had rested instead of fighting. Loghain had not noticed, nor did it seem anyone else had.

'It is you or me the men will follow, so let us fight for it,' he said. 'Prepare yourself.'

People backed away from them almost at once. They circled each other, once, twice, before Loghain drew. A few gasps sounded, annoying Núria to no end. What had they expected he'd do? She mirrored him, and just when she had her sword and dagger readied, he charged at her. In her leather, Núria was faster than him and sidestepped him, trying to land a blow on him. Her sword clanged against his armour without having any effect. 'Not fair,' she muttered to herself.

Their dance continued for a while, neither doing any harm to the other. But Loghain, Núria noticed, was hindered by his plate-mail. His movements had not been as fast as hers to begin with, and with every minute he got slower. Núria could hear Zevran's voice in her head. If they're in leather, move in and finish them quickly. If they're in mail, move out and wait for them to slow down. And then hope they've never fought an assassin. She braced herself, preparing herself for pain, for Loghain would certainly hit her now - it was part of the plan. Oh Maker, why could he not fight with a mace, this would be so much less terrible. She manoeuvred their fight carefully closer to the wall … She heard a soft gasp that might have come from Zevran … He would know what she intended to do. He had shown her and practised it with her after all. Let it be a wall, or a tree, or another person, really, no matter. Something solid it must be, and not an ally, if you can help it.

Núria dodged Loghain's attack, once again, spinning and keeping close to him, her left arm shielding her side, the sword in the right hand keeping her head covered. As she had expected, Loghain reacted at once. His blow cut right through her armour into her left arm, and instead of trying to remain on her feet, she let herself be carried to the right and downwards. A very short silent prayer passed through her thoughts, she had never done this save in her lessons with Zevran, never in a real fight, never after catching an actual blow with a sharp weapon … Núria rolled over her right shoulder, keeping her blades out of harm's way, and landed as she should: She felt the impact of her feet colliding with the wall and used it to kick herself off it in a short horizontal jump. Her intention had been to land behind Loghain so she could grab and fell him, instead she crashed into his knees, knocking him in his stiff mail off-balance. She was on top of him in an instant, yanked his head back by his hair and placed her dagger under his left ear. Her arm screamed in protest, but she ignored it.

'I yield,' Loghain said, and she got off him. She saw Zevran swell with pride as she sheathed her weapons. Wynne moved towards her and healed the wound on her arm with a spell.

'Loghain, you die now,' Núria informed him coldly. She had no intention to let him live, now she thought of it.

'Wait!' someone called, running towards them. Riordan stood between her and Loghain with a pleading look on his face. 'There is another option! The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining.'

'Er, no,' Núria replied, regarding him as though he was insane.

'There are too few of us,' Riordan said imploringly. 'It's not a matter of what we like. It's a matter of what we must do. Our duty is to slay the archdemon. We aren't judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits: Anyone with the skill and the mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us. There are three of us in all of Ferelden. And there are … compelling reasons to have as many wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon.' Núria opened her mouth to protest, but Anora cut across her.

'The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?' she asked. 'If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?'

'Absolutely not!' Alistair said loudly. 'Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed. He hunted us down like animals. He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?'

'No,' Núria said firmly. 'Loghain will die, and not from the Joining.' Anora stared at her.

'You can't do this,' she said urgently. 'My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people.'

'Anora, hush,' Loghain said calmly. 'It's over.'

'Stop treating me like a child,' she said with a slightly hysterical note to her voice. 'This is serious.'

'Daughters never grow up, Anora.' Loghain smiled at her, and for the first time, Núria saw in him the human he was rather than the enemy he had proven himself to be. 'They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever.'

'Father,' she breathed, and suddenly, Núria hated what she had to do.

'Just make it quick, Warden,' Loghain said. 'I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands.'

For a moment Núria considered letting Alistair kill Loghain, but then she remembered that Anora was supposed to marry him, and chances were that she would refuse if he had killed her father. So she drew her sword, and with one fluid movement separated Loghain's head from his shoulders. Blood spurted from him, splattering Anora's face and Núria's armour. A soft wincing sound came from Anora, but when the matter came to taking the throne, her voice was quite firm. And, what was more, she and Alistair stuck to their agreement to rule together. 'I believe this is what King Maric wanted,' she said. 'To see his blood tied to my father's, to begin a new line of Fereldan kings.'

'But I - I mean - I … I did swear an oath,' Alistair stammered. 'What I mean is, I'm - I'm all for founding a new line of kings, but … well, there's the blight.' Anora smiled, and Núria wondered if this idea hadn't been better even than she had thought.

'What the king is trying to say, my lords and ladies, is that he will be taking the field with his fellow Grey Warden to do battle with the archdemon,' she substituted.

'Uh, yes,' he said with a grin. 'That.'

'Until then, I shall stay in Denerim, and rule in my husband's absence, as I did for Cailan,' Anora announced, and there was a slight note of relief to her voice. Núria decided she couldn't blame her. Looking closely, Alistair did look a lot like Cailan … But perhaps she just imagined it, it wasn't like she had seen much of Cailan at Ostagar. 'But I trust Alistair shall reach a more heroic ending.'

Begging your pardon for taking so long with this update, but I had to work out if and how I will continue after the blight. What I decided is that I will continue, including Awakening, but I will probably make it an actual sequel rather than continuing here for various reasons. Now the question is how far that sequel will go, but it will most certainly continue a while after Awakening; for obvious reasons.