Chapter 26: Waiting

It's the screaming, the sounds of flesh being torn apart by whips and chains. That's what make your stomach churn and the blood in your veins run cold. It's the smell and the noise here that is almost unbearable. Keira attempts to open her cell door and as she had suspected, it's locked. Here eyes scan her surroundings, a few guards remain near the entrance, but her robes, staff and any of Alistair's items don't seem to be anywhere in this room. She can hear the jingles of keys as one of their guards continues to finish his rounds.

"Alright, I think I've come up with something..." Amell knows that the Prince will not agree with this plan.

"I'm not going to like this...am I?" He can tell by the shift in her eyes that his day is just about to get a lot worse.

The mage attempts to manage her tattered hair, wets her lips and wipes clean any visible dirt from her skin. "How do I look?" She spreads her arms away from her frame, as if trying to sell her muddled image.

The notion of what she might have in mind finally sinks in. Disgusted with the idea, a grimace spreads across his face. "No." Alistair points at her sternly. "Uh uh, nope. Not happening." He's serious. Not a chance."

"Listen just sit here and pretend that you're asleep, or passed out...or something." She takes him by the hand, directs him towards the corner on the opposite side of their prison door. "I'll...persuade one of our guardsmen to join me in here. Once he does, you'll be able to do something stealthy."

"Stealthy?" He sighs. Alistair may not like this plan of hers, but it's the only option they have at the moment. "Or you could just freeze him."

"Right... we'll improvise. Either way... we're gonna get out of here." Keira stands next to the bars hoping to hear anyone heading towards them. "All we need is for that guard to come back here before he finishes his rounds." Tiny hands wrap around cold metal bars. Their cage.

Alistair clears his throat. "So we escape using the powers of your feminine charm. Assuming the guard prefers women or is extremely dim witted. We dash out of here practically naked and fight a fort full of guards with the weapons we pick up a long the way. Right. Nothing wrong with this plan."

"Shhh..." The mage continues staring between her cell bars. "Someone's coming."

There's a shallow gasp in the corridor just out of sight and then a sickening thud. The flame of the torch on the wall dances in a small breeze. Something or someone is being dragged. There's another thud as a helm comes rolling into the room. Something makes a crack and then everything is quiet.

Alert, Alistair rushes to the mages side. "What in Andrastes name..." The two friends remain very still, as if their movements would cause too much noise for them to hear anything below a whisper.

Then, without a sound Zevran rounds the corner. Smirking, he turns back to the hallway. "Over here." Continuing his smirk, he twirls a large key ring around his index finger while gingerly making his way towards the cell door. "My dear Wardens, I'm happy to see that you haven't succumb to any torture. However, given the state that you're in..." The assassin is now trying each key in the lock.

"Did you happen to see any of our belongings?" The Prince continues to survey the entrance to this small area. "And what about the guards...how many do you think are left?"

"We only cleared what we needed to, in order to get to you." Cullen informs as he enters the small area. Wiping the blood off of his blade on the forearm of his tunic, he can see a disapproving scowl spread across Zev's face. The atmosphere in the room changes from distressed to tense. Very, very tense. The two captives know what kind of mess they are in and suspect that one of their rescuers is not about to offer hugs and honey cakes.

The Templar examines the sword in his possession attentively. "I'm not going to say I told you so. There's no need."

"Cullen..." Keira begins to explain. She also notices that the Elf is no longer fiddling with the keys, instead he has abandoned them and is now trying to pick the lock.

The large Templar shuts his eyes and shakes his head, ignoring her protests. "Not only have you both put the potential future King in grave danger...that's you." He points to Alistair with his weapon. "In case you've forgotten."

"With all do respect. I believe this entire situation is mostly..." Alistair begins to argue their case, but quickly decides to shut his trap when he locks eyes with a very irritated Cullen. "Uh, forget I said anything."

"But you've also put our mission in jeopardy. We have a war to fight. A battle that can only be fought and won by Grey Wardens." Cullen points to the dark sky seen through the small window behind him. "I don't know if either of you have noticed, but the last time I checked there was only a few of us left!" His hands begin to tremble slightly.

The mage jumps at his sudden outburst.

"Who will fight the Archdemon and its army, if all of us are dead!? From now on, all decisions regarding the fate of this campaign are to be made by all of the remaining Grey Wardens in this group!" Recognizing that expressing his frustrations at this moment has not been the wisest of choices, Cullen decides to take a moment to calm himself. A large wooden chest in the far corner catches his attention. Upon inspection he recovers a few articles of clothing.

"This lock was a bit stubborn at first, but just like a woman, in the end it had no choice but to succumb to my will." The assassin winks in the bastard Prince's direction as he opens the cell door. "Let us leave this dreadful place. I wish to be rid of these ridiculous garments as soon as possible."

Cullen tosses a tunic and a pair of trousers in Alistair's direction. "Here, these should do for the time being." Exhaling deeply, he wraps Keira in his own blue coat. "I couldn't find anything that would actually cover you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's better then running around half..." The mage rolls up the sleeves so that her spell casting won't be interfered with.

"No, not for that. For my behavior just moments ago. I meant what I said, just not as harshly." He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her close. "When I heard about what happened... all I could think of was you. Not the Archedemon. Not the war. You. Were you even still alive. What would I do if you..." Cullen sighs. "That doesn't matter now. You're safe. We'll get out of here and we'll talk about darkspawn later. For now you're safe."

Exhausted, half-dressed and in serious need of a hot bath, Keira trails behind Cullen as they enter Eamon's estate. She can hear familiar voices discussing various topics as they make their way towards the common room. That's when she looses her self-control. "You double crossing bitch!" The mage slaps Anora across the face, far harder then she had anticipated. "How dare you show yourself here!"

Cullen manages to wrap his arms around Keira's waist and pulls her back. "Let me go! She's the reason we were in that dungeon! We were ambushed by Loghain's men and then she fed us to the wolves. We almost died for you!"

Shocked at this woman's demeanor, Anora rubs her cheek, her face twists with disgust. "Well, what did you expect me to do? You announced me to my father's most trusted lackey. Did the purpose of my disguise entirely escape you? I barely managed to slip away from her when we reached the palace." Licking her swollen lip, the Queen smooths out the lines in her dress. "I am hoping that, despite our unfortunate beginning, we can still work together. Will you hear me out?"

Calm, but not convinced, Keira nods. "Fine." Cullen releases his hold on her. "I'll listen, but I promise nothing."

"We will need to work together and quickly." Anora crosses her arms and licks her lip once more. Keira assumes this is probably not the first time this woman has been struck. "My father has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but he is gripped with a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense. He saw me as a threat, yet even now I'm certain he will be telling the nobles that you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it."

Alistair is growing more and more annoyed. "So why did we risk our lives for you? Why are you here?"

Drained, the Queen takes a seat. "You will need ammunition come the Landsmeet, and I can help in that regard. You have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some...recent events."

"Oh? Is that so?" Fergus who'd been leaning against the door frame this entire time decides to shed some light on this topic. "You don't think we know that Denerim has been in turmoil since Ostagar? Most of the people here are angry or grieving. We were able to find out quite a bit on our own. Even made a few allies along the way."

"This is true." Ty adds to the conversation. "While these four were planning a 'Queen's Rescue', the rest of us decided to do some digging ourselves. We're resourceful like that." The elf snickers. "See I use to live in the alienage. I know for a fact there weren't many elves from Denerim that joined the army in Ostagar. So I started questioning people I knew, why would they be so upset with the ones in charge here. Long story short, there was a slave trade set up and guess who is connected to it."

Surprised, but not shocked, Anora remains seated. Not once does she hint at being nervous or anxious. Quite the opposite. The Queen remains poise and regal throughout their discussion. The perfect example of Royalty and inner strength.

Fergus adjusts his weight against the wooden frame, it creeks under the pressure of the human form. "Noblemen, soldiers, Templars and a Grey Warden all found in Howe's dungeons. All willing to protest against your father. Seems to me that we have more then enough witnesses on our side to prove our point. Loghain is a tyrant and needs to be stopped." The Cousland shrugs his shoulders in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

The Queen contemplates this information for a moment. "Good, you'll need that evidence for the Landsmeet, but you also need a stronger candidate for the thrown. You need me."

Keira begins laughing almost uncontrollably. "You can't be serious."

Cullen looks over towards Alistair and then shares a look of concern with Fergus. Something feels amiss. Uncertain of why this conversation causes him to feel alarmed, the Templar opts to not saying anything for the moment. However, judging by the way Fergus is now glaring at the Queen, he knows he's not alone in this train of thought.

Anora tries to keep her composer. "I have no doubt that Alistair is biddable enough, and decent, but even with his blood, he's no King. You think only I can see it? Not only that, Alistair is a Grey Warden. It will look like you are trying to put a Grey Warden on the throne, despite your claims. I am a neutral party, and I am already Queen."

Frustrated, Eamon decides to step in. "Anora, you are indeed Cailan's widow but..."

Sighing, Anora makes her way to the hearth and observes the people before her. "I am the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general. Who do you think truly ruled this nation for the last five years? Cailan? I am what this country needs. Not an untrained King who doesn't even want the throne. I can help you stop my father. Consider what I have said. For now, I think I will retire to my room." With that said, the Queen and her hand maiden leave the common room. The large doors close behind them and the room suddenly feels a bit lighter.

"I can't help but think that she may be trouble. I don't think she means to give up her power easily." Fergus glares at the flames in the fireplace.

"Agreed. But we should keep her close, all the same. This way here we can keep an eye on her so that she's not able to actively work for Loghain." Eamon knows what the other nobleman is thinking. That this may have been her plan all along. Get them to do all the leg work and dig up all her father's dirty laundry, then use this to her own advantage. Or that Loghain himself convinced his daughter to set them up, in some other sort of trap.

"She's right..." Alistair all but collapses onto a near by chair. "I don't know the first thing about being King."

"She is without a husband now." Eamon begins to steer the conversation in a different direction. "It would be unseemly for her to marry so soon after Cailan's death. However, it's a risk she may take if it meant securing her claim to the throne."

Appalled, Alistair raises his hands in defense. "Are you suggesting what I think you are? No, never mind. I don't even want to hear the rest of this."

"But it would be the strongest argument to remove Loghain from power. With Theirin blood back on the throne, and Anora's wisdom and popularity. Ferelden could present the most united front against the blight."

"No! I won't hear any of this!" Alistair commands, his fists hit the arms of his chair. "I've decided to fight for the throne, but that doesn't mean I'll be paired off with some horrid woman for favor...like some prized dog!"

"Alistair." The dark-haired mage grips his shoulder gently. "Like I've promised you before, no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to. That includes an unwanted marriage. Right?" Her eyes land on the old man before her.

Clearing his throat, Eamon places his hands behind his back. Not wanting to upset his future King, he has no choice but to agree. "Of course. It was only a suggestion."

Alistair nods in his uncle's direction. "Fine. But I won't hear of it again. It's absurd and frankly gross. She was Cailan's wife..." The Prince rubs a tired hand over his face. "I need to sleep."