While Loghain set a brutal pace through the castle, leaving Arya with little time to admire the décor, she did notice how beautiful it was. The walls were covered in tapestries and murals and mosaics, and the rugs running along the centers of the hallways were a form of artwork themselves. Most of it depicted various stories, the most common theme being battles that Arya assumed were from Ferelden history. Servants brushed past the group, working in a frenzy now that the king had returned with guests. As they draw closer to the study, Cailan reaches out and links his fingers with Arya- a gesture that Loghain doesn't fail to notice. She can feel his glare, and staunchly avoids looking at him.
When they finally reach the study, there are several chairs around a table, and tea set out for them. The tension in the air was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife as Cailan let go of Arya's hand and took a seat at the head of the table. Arya, seeing no better option, sits down next to him, although she wonders if she would feel better if she remained standing. Loghain sits across from Cailan, and Brett assumes a position behind Arya. She feels some sort of comfort at his presence.
"So, boy, why don't you start talking?" Loghain asks, leaning back in his chair with his ankle crossed over his leg. He's feigning nonchalance, but Arya can see how tense and angry he is. She wishes miserably for a moment that she'd gone with Morrigan and Eldris.
"After the battle of Ostagar, where it failed spectacularly, I was found near death on the battlefield by the Grey Wardens. They spent some time nursing me back to help, and I traveled with them for a short while until we could return to the capital," Cailan explains, and Arya knows in that moment that the story won't hold up. Loghain has to know better.
"I've known you since you were a boy, Cailan. Do you expect me to believe that?" Loghain asks with a snort. Arya fidgets, glancing at Cailan. She feels Brett place a hand on her shoulder, which makes her feel much better.
"I'm telling you what you need to know, Loghain. There's more at stake here than you could know," Cailan replies easily, effortlessly. At least Arya knows he can hold up under verbal fire.
"At least tell me who she is. I'm not stupid, boy, she's no Warden," Loghain says, his gaze turning to Arya. She swallows heavily.
"Her name is Arya, and her story isn't mine to tell," he answers.
"Are you that friendly with all of your traveling companions?" Loghain asks, his gaze swiveling back to Cailan. Arya almost winces.
"No, I can't say that I am," he replies lightly, and Arya notices how exhausted Loghain looks. Cailan's disappearance must have been hell for the man.
"You must know how this looks, Cailan. The King of Ferelden disappears for months, and then shows up again with a flimsy explanation and a knife-ear hanging onto-" Loghain begins, but Arya cuts him off and jumps to her feet, knocking her chair back loudly.
"What was that?" Arya asked, leaning over the table, her hands splayed out on the wooden surface to keep them from trembling.
"I believe you heard me," Loghain answers, and it takes all of the willpower Arya possesses not to jump across the table and backhand the man.
"If you can't manage to show me the same fucking respect that you'd show anyone else, you're not going to have vocal cords for much longer," Arya threatens. Cailan sighs loudly beside her, and she can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration without turning to look. Loghain, meanwhile, watches her intently, his eyes narrowed. The look is calculating, and Arya gets the sudden feeling that this is some sort of test.
"And just who are you, girl, that you so boldly demand my respect?" Loghain asks, and she realizes that this is definitely some sort of test.
"That's a good question, and a long story," she mumbles, a week of existential crisis catching up with her suddenly. She pushes herself back off of the table and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Then I suggest you start telling it, before I have you thrown in the dungeons," Loghain replies. Arya huffs and turns away, walking over to the window. The room overlooks the gardens, and they are quite beautiful.
"This isn't how we were planning on telling you," Cailan warns. Loghain shrugs in response, and Arya begins talking.
"Once, the Veil didn't exist. Spirits mingled freely throughout the world. Elvhenan was the empire, Arlathan it's capital. Most think of the wooden aravels the Dalish use currently when they think of Arlathan, but think instead about crystal spires twining through the treetops, wonders that only uninterrupted access to magic could produce. Then, there was a war. The effects happened slowly. The Evanuris were great generals, and then great leaders, and then they were gods. There was an elven girl dragged before them, an orphan, lost and angry and scared, and Mythal saw what I didn't wish for her to. She took me in, gave me shelter and safety from the others, and I became her favorite, her champion. Then she was murdered by the others in their greed for power, and I died defending a temple long enough to get the doors sealed. I only received those memories recently, and there is much that I don't know," she says.
"You expect me to believe any of this?" Loghain asks, one eyebrow raised. Arya keeps her back to him, looking out over the gardens.
"You can believe whatever you like. I'm telling you what I know," she replies. Loghain scoffs.
"I can tell you, at least, believe your story. Still, now is a bad time for your relationship to be made public. Cailan, you must know this. Anora's too fond of that Cousland boy that's been hanging around- a scandal was brewing already. It'll be ten times worse if the kingdom finds out you and-" he hesitates, glancing at Arya.
"Arya. My name is Arya. Or Bellanaris. I prefer the first one," she answers, mindlessly, and he continues.
"If the kingdom finds out about you and Arya, or Anora and Lysander, it's not going to be pretty," Loghain warns.
"Arya and I will speak with Anora and Lysander and handle it, Loghain. We can do that now, in fact, as soon as someone can go round up the two of them. Meanwhile, I want reports on everything that's happened while I'm away, delivered as soon as possible. The country is faced with a Blight- we need to hurry. There will be Wardens arriving tomorrow, and many more guests arriving after that.
Loghain nods and stands. "Very well. Arya, I'll meet with you privately later. You claim to have knowledge of this world, and I'm not going to take you at face value," he says. She nods, turning back around and leaning against the wall.
"Yes, sir. I look forward to that conversation," she tells him. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he's fighting back a grin, but then he turns and sweeps out of the room.
"I'll go find Anora and the Cousland boy," Brett says, bowing and striding out after him. Cailan rises and walks over to Arya, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"You handled that well. Are you all right?" he asks.
"More or less. I definitely could be worse," she replies, standing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
"The worst part is yet to come. Anora is a terror," Cailan warns. Arya laughs, leaning against him.
"We've got this, babe, don't worry," she says. They pull apart, Cailan heading back to his chair, and the door swings open.