Theron paused in his study and practice of the falcon to perch above the Dalish camp. For a few precious minutes, he just wanted to watch the normal life his clan lived. He missed that. He saw Ineria and Fenarel arguing over which arrow was closest to the center of the target. But, he was most pleased to see Merrill and Morrigan laughing. Merrill insisted that Morrigan share their aravel as she very much wanted to be a part of the child's life. Morrigan got along with Merrill, only the Creators knew why, so, Morrigan agreed to the arrangement. Theron worried how Merrill would view what they had done the previous night … when illuminated by the light of day. He was glad it seemed she was still all right with it all.
The night the Archdemon returned, Morrigan had insisted on Theron performing the ritual with her. She just knew the battle would be soon. The forces at Ostagar were prepared and ready and the Archdemon would not let the deaths of her broodmothers go. The Blight would end here soon. At least, Morrigan was confident of that.
Surprisingly, Merrill did participate in the ritual. It made what the Dalish warden had to do bearable … and much more enjoyable. After Merrill ran out on them that day, Theron spent as much time as he could with her, discussing many things. Among them were discreet plans for Morrigan to join with the clan to raise her child. And, after careful notification by Marethari, no one in the clan made the mistake that it was going to be anything but Morrigan's child.
It turned out that the ritual was much more than just sex. In fact, Merrill chided Theron to remember what they did during the ritual, as she enjoyed all the things they did before the sex a lot. Theron suspected Morrigan threw in some non-vital steps to include Merrill, but it worked to put Merrill at ease. That was really all that mattered to Theron.
Among the People, Morrigan was plain-spoken, but also considerate. Theron asked her why she was so different when among the humans and dwarves … why she appeared aloof and caustic most of the time in Ostagar. She explained that she had little patience with either ignorance or stupidity. The dwarves were simply ignorant of magic. The humans were stupid. Theron had to agree with that, even though he got along well with the human warden mages. The paranoia and feelings of persecution exhibited by many of the Circle mages disturbed him. Over the weeks since they had arrived, Theron had overheard some of their conversations. He felt they were one spell away from turning into abominations with all the stress in Ostagar. Marethari agreed and passed the word on to the other clans to take care around the human Circle mages.
Jowan told the wardens to watch out for Senior Enchanter Uldred, as he was already using blood magic. That astounded Theron! With all their talk of oversight, training and protection of the mages, how could the human Chantry miss that? Or, were the Templars just being controlled? What if Merrill were stationed near Uldred and he became an abomination? Fortunately, that would not be the case. Merrill was going to be with Teryn Loghain's flanking force and the Templars decided that the Circle mages would remain in the back of the battle in the chasm, at the limit of their range. Theron knew it was because the Templars were cowardly and didn't want to be in the middle of the fight … but if it kept the Circle mages safely away from the wardens, Keepers and Firsts, Theron was fine with that, no matter the reason.
When Merrill took Morrigan into the aravel, Theron, in his falcon form, launched into the sky. He loved the freedom this form provided. The falcon could outfly anything in the sky … that he knew of. He hadn't run a race with the Archdemon yet. It was a pity that there were no gryphons left to study so they could shapeshift into the flying mounts. Morrigan and the warden mages had tried, but without the actual creature nearby to watch and study, it turned out to be an impossible goal. The falcon would have to be good enough.
Alidain had completely thrown himself into the scouting missions since he lost Kallian. It surprised him that he could fall in love with a flat-ear, but Kallian was so different from others raised in an alienage. She had spirit and drive and a well-developed sense of what was right. She had no fear. Maybe that was more a fault, as it got her killed. Her death was a huge loss to the wardens and to him. The first warden casualty of this war, but it wouldn't be the last.
"I want you to be extra careful on this patrol." Duncan walked over sat next to Alidain, who was loading up his pack with enough for several days. "I've already sent out both Garrett and Daylen to scout the Wilds ahead of you. They have orders to check in with you to shuttle reports back and forth quickly."
Alidain looked up. "That's probably a good idea. I agree with caution, but we need information as quickly as we can get it. The Archdemon has returned and its not happy." He smiled at Duncan. "And, I'll be sure to take ham bits for Bounder who'll be going with me."
Duncan laughed. "Let Garrett worry about that."
Alidain was glad that he would have two mage shapeshifters who could shuttle information back to Ostagar quickly and regularly. The Archdemon's warning meant that an attack was eminent. Everyone in Ostagar was ready. It was time to put months of plans and revisions and more plans and more revisions into practice.
Morrigan was pleased with the results of the ritual. Every test she could think of confirmed that it was successful. The death of the Archdemon within a fortnight was far from definite, but the stage was certainly set for it. When the alarm went up that the Archdemon had returned and just flown overhead with a roar, Morrigan was positive that she had been given a sign for the ritual to be done.
She threw herself into aiding the warden mages and avoiding the Circle mages as much as possible. The Chantry Templars often whispered to each other whenever Morrigan was around, so she knew she had to leave the area immediately after the Archdemon's death and wait at the rendezvous for the Sabrae Clan.
Also, Morrigan and Merrill were becoming inseparable. Such a curious little Dalish elf was Merrill. At first, Morrigan was put off by her constant good mood and bright attitude. However, after Merrill was told about the ritual … and got over her understandable first reaction … Morrigan saw a side of Merrill that she had missed before. Merrill was deeply curious and utterly devoted to the lore of the Dalish people … in actuality, the decedents of Arlathan. When Merrill learned that Urthemiel was actually an Arlathan elf, she couldn't hide her enthusiasm. Morrigan likely shared more than Flemeth would have wanted her to share, but Flemeth wasn't around.
Morrigan told them that the ritual would save the life of the Grey Warden who slew the Archdemon, but that was only a half-truth. In reality, it would only save Theron's life if he were the one to make the killing blow. At the death of the Archdemon, Urthemiel's soul would be drawn to the fetus in Morrigan, that much was certain, but the resultant forces from triggering the ritual would be deadly. The ritual protected Theron from these forces. But, Theron might die before it even came to the final battle. For Merrill's sake, Morrigan hoped Theron would survive.
What would truly happen to everyone else nearby was uncertain.
As Morrigan's mother was always so fond saying, messing with the invisible forces in a world had consequences. Even with the honorable goal of making a safe environment in which to raise a child, the actions she and Flemeth had performed would have consequences. Sometimes the forces were resistant to guidance. Sometimes, there was a big price to pay.
Alistair had been too busy to worry about Arlaine's return … sort of. The sighting of the Archdemon had everyone busy. Arlaine's group had been delayed a day to help another farm hold, but he'd just heard they had finally arrived. As he crossed the open area near the stables, he spotted Arlaine speaking with one of the Highever guards. He suddenly forgot how to breathe … until a familiar set of bony knuckles punched him in the arm.
"Alistair, do not go marching over there, yelling about her going back to Highever." Neria's whisper was closer to a hiss.
He spun on the petite healer. "But, neither of you should be here, Neria! It isn't safe!"
She stepped closer to him and punctuated her words by poking his chest at important intervals. "After all the death and destruction I've seen recently, believe me when I tell you that nowhere is safe, Alistair. If you want her to love you, you will go over there and tell her you're sorry about Highever …"
"I am sorry about Highever," he agreed.
"Quit interrupting. Tell her you're sorry about Highever and make no mention that she should be home with her family. She needs to know that you trust her judgement! Furthermore, you need to tell her that you understand that she has a duty to be here and that you support her. You do understand that she has a duty and you do support her, don't you?" She kept looking over to Arlaine. Alistair knew Neria was going to depart as soon as Arlaine turned and headed toward them.
"Of course, I do, but …"
"No 'buts', Warden Prince!" Again with the poking, Neria added, "Trust me. That's all she needs to hear. Everything else is what she would expect from you. Surprise her and …" Neria stopped and smiled sweetly up to Alistair. "Thanks for letting me know about the infirmary, Alistair. I'll head there right now."
Alistair turned just in time for Arlaine to step up. "Is there already an emergency at the infirmary?" Arlaine asked him.
"The wha …? Uh, no, Neria just … uh … needed to know she was needed, so … you know … in case, she were needed, you know." Alistair sighed. "Arlaine, I'm so sorry about Highever …"
Arlaine's face went so fast to the angry face that Alistair wondered if he'd gone blank for a few minutes. "Now, Alistair, I don't need a lecture about …"
He didn't know where the courage came from, but he put his finger on her lips. "Arlaine, I trust your judgement." He paused trying desperately to remember just how Neria had put the rest. "I support … your decision … to be doing your duty."
And, just as swiftly, her face melted into a grateful smile … followed by a solid hug. "I've been going over how this reunion would play out, Alistair," she whispered in his ear. "And, the words you said were just the words I needed to hear."
A fearful thought crossed his mind: What will he do when Neria isn't around to put words in his mouth? However, he hugged her back. "Arlaine, you know all us people who keep telling you to leave are only concerned for your safety."
Arlaine broke the hug, but she was chuckling. "Like you were about to do before Neria caught you?"
"Maker, all you females are so evil to us poor, hapless boys!" He tried his best sad puppy eyes.
She put her hand on the side of his face. "Only the boys that we care about, Alistair."
Again, he thought about kissing her, but a shiny guard wearing the King's tabard whispered to Alistair, "King Cailan wishes to see you Warden Alistair, if you have the time."
Alistair looked at Arlaine and she nodded toward the king's tent. "You can fill me in later, Alistair.
"Of course. Lead the way." The monotone of his voice failed to disguise Alistair's disappointment.
It was very late in the evening and only a few were still milling around the camp. The guard walked straight to Cailan's tent and opened the flap. Alistair passed the guard and stepped inside. Loghain was there. He nodded and left when Alistair arrived. Surprisingly, Alistair thought he looked relieved. "Your Majesty," Alistair said to the King.
Cailan was wearing a simple linen shirt and tight leather pants. "Have a seat, Alistair." He was sitting at a table with two stools on either side. Several rolls of parchment were neatly stacked in a box on one side of the table. A bottle of amber liquid and two intricately cut crystal glasses were in front of Cailan. The King poured the liquid into the two glasses and put one in front of Alistair, who sat down across from Cailan.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Alistair took a drink of the liquid. It was the smoothest spirits he'd ever had. Usually, brandy burned and often made him cough, but this almost slid down his throat. He smiled broadly. "I need to drink with you more often."
Cailan laughed. "You're heir to the throne, Alistair, until the baby is born, and heir-regent until the child takes the throne. The Landsmeet approved it. You could drink this anytime you want." The king looked … disappointed.
Alistair rolled the liquid around in his glass for a moment and then looked up at his half-brother. "We've talked about this already, Your Majesty. I'm a Grey Warden. I like being a Grey Warden." Alistair smiled fondly at the man who accepted him as a brother and stood by Duncan. "Besides, you're not going to die any time soon, if I can help it."
An odd look passed over Cailan's face, but it quickly changed to a sad smile. He reached down and brought a long case up to the table. He reverently ran his hand down the top of the rosewood case and then opened the brass clips holding it shut. "I was going to use this sword to kill the Archdemon." That alarmed Alistair, but before he could say anything, Cailan picked up the lid and continued, "Until I found out about the ultimate sacrifice involved…the one that necessitated a Grey Warden making the final blow."
Ah, Alistair thought to himself, Duncan filled him in. That's why Cailan was disappointed.
He lifted a dragonbone sword out of the case. The sword was a deep gray, alit with blue runes. The hilt was gold with three stones along the crossbar. Cailan touched each stone as he recited, "In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice." Cailan was acting in the most reserved manner that Alistair had ever seen. Not that they saw each other a lot, but King Cailan was hard to miss in a crowd. Young, handsome, vibrant, confident. All the qualities Ferelden needed in its king. All the qualities lacking in me, Alistair thought to himself. Well, maybe the young part fit. He handed the sword to Alistair. "I want the Grey Wardens to use this sword to kill the Archdemon, Alistair. It belonged to our father. It's at its best against darkspawn."
Alistair hesitated a moment but couldn't resist at least holding the powerful sword. It almost had a personality all its own that enticed him to reach out and take it. "Your Maj …Cailan…are you sure?"
"I want you to use it until the Wardens meet the Archdemon. I'm not a fool. I know it will be chaotic. But, if you can…please see that the Warden who must make the sacrifice uses this blade. It would mean a lot to me." Alistair was horrified to see tears in Cailan's eyes. "I know that might be you."
"I…I don't know what to say." Alistair reached across the table to grasp his half-brother's forearm.
Cailan looked Alistair in the eye. "I hate sitting on the sidelines, Alistair, sending others to their deaths." He looked down and added almost imperceptibly, "I hate being King sometimes." Then, he sat back and downed the rest of his drink.
This conversation was getting way too serious…not healthy for a king of the Theirin line, notorious for broody kings. Alistair turned to the one thing that always was there to protect him. His humor. He winked at Cailan. "Not damned often, I'll wager."
The surprised look on Cailan's face was priceless. Fortunately for Alistair's continued existence, the King laughed. "No, not often, Alistair." He refilled the glasses, a bit of his usual enthusiasm returning to brighten his face. "I think I may take Loghain's advice and head home. The birthing is due soon. Anora wanted me to be with her, and I wouldn't mind being near."
The two brothers had a pretty good conversation after all the depressing topics had been covered. Cailan loved talking about battle plans and about Ferelden. Alistair knew that it would more than likely not be him to strike the killing blow on the Archdemon. Traditionally … as much of a tradition as could be developed over the centuries … the honor went to the Grey Warden closest to his or her calling. Duncan, Alidain, and Gavin were the primary wardens with the honor of the final blow. The First Warden and Jongis Pentaghast were also in line for the honor, but agreed it should be a Ferelden warden if at all possible.
The overall plan had Alistair stationed with Ser Gilmore's group across from Loghain's group. Once the bulk of the darkspawn horde was funneled into the chasm, two of the warden shapeshifters would fly over and alert Loghain's group and Gilmore's group to "close the gates" behind, encircling and crushing the horde while the wardens battled the Archdemon.
It looked good on parchment.
The unknown detail was whether the Archdemon would make an appearance. The majority of the wardens at Ostagar were going to be in the chasm, the bait in the trap. Alistair's mother was going to be in the chasm, not as a warden anymore, but as a support mage. Her elemental aura was supposed to be vicious to the darkspawn.
After too much brandy, Alistair finally left the tent and noticed Arlaine sitting at a nearby bonfire, talking with Fiona. They were laughing. No doubt about something stupid Alistair had done. He wondered if he could maybe just slip by when Arlaine looked his way and smiled, waving him over. He tried not to think about what they were discussing. And, he finally had to admit to himself, he was glad she was here.
Loghain was restless. It reminded him that he was always restless before big battles during the rebellion. And, that memory made him sad. Maric should be here. He would be proud of Cailan and Alistair. Two sons raised in two very different environments and yet, both of them very much like two sides of their father.
It was late and most of the camp was asleep or on late watch. When he saw Duncan sitting by a large bonfire, expertly running a whet stone over the edge of his blades, Loghain turned that direction. "Mind if I join you, Duncan?"
Duncan didn't even look up. "Not at all, Loghain. I see you are finding it difficult to sleep as well."
"Thanks to the Archdemon flying over to taunt us, it's difficult to close my eyes for fear the scouts will be running into camp with the entire horde on their heels." Loghain leaned against a tree across from Duncan's bench.
"That was likely very prophetic, Loghain. Advance notice would be a nice, but I doubt we'll get much. Our best bets are the mage scouts flying over the area to the south. Pity the Templars put an end to Circle mages learning to shapeshift. The warden mages could use more time for rest than they're getting." Duncan sighed and looked up for the first time.
Loghain pushed off the tree and came over to sit by Duncan so he could keep his voice down. "Keeping the Circle mages out of the main battle is also galling. Why are they even here?"
Duncan chuckled. "Let the Templars believe they can keep Uldred and some of his group out of the main battle. After things get going, I wouldn't be surprised to see the Circle mages down in the chasm with us."
"True." Loghain paused and then continued. "Duncan, thank you for convincing Cailan to back down."
"Actually, it was easier than I thought it would be. Cailan understands duty and responsibility. Once I got through to him that the Archdemon was the responsibility of the wardens and that the sacrifice was our duty to the rest of Thedas, he saw that his interference … his word, not mine … was not the honorable thing for him to do." Duncan smiled. "To be honest, his concern then fell to Alistair and the very possible fact it may be Alistair who strikes the killing blow."
"About that, Duncan, is there any other way we can distance Alistair from the Archdemon fight?" Loghain didn't look at Duncan when he asked that.
Duncan gave him a simple answer. "No."
Loghain hated that there was no way to protect both of Maric's sons. "I figured that was going to be your answer."
"Alistair is a Grey Warden, Loghain." Duncan carefully slipped his now deadly-sharp blades into their sheathes. "You can speak with Cal about it, but having Alistair serve with Gilmore's flank is about as far as I'm willing to pull him from the fight. And, I only do that in deference to Cailan. I only pray the singular warden presence over there doesn't draw some of the darkspawn to them prematurely."
Loghain stood. "Well, as you said with the mages, I won't be surprised if the boy shows up beside you in the chasm." He smiled at Duncan. "But, I'm going to do my damnedest to keep him away."
"Morrigan makes me nervous." The degree of deference the apostate received by both the wardens and the secular army leaders was worrisome. Leliana had befriended an apostate once, so she didn't automatically see all mages as dangerous, but Morrigan was very, very different from Sketch. Morrigan denigrated the use of blood magic as a fallback for the weak mage, but Leliana felt that might be a cover for her own malefic arts.
Ser Marrance sighed and sat back in his chair. "The freedom that all of the mages are experiencing makes me nervous, Seeker. Lonber found out that one of the younger Circle mages had started learning shapeshifting from Morrigan, so, you are correct. Morrigan warrants special notice."
Leliana got closer to Marrance. "Once the Archdemon is slain, we need to capture her, Marrance."
He huffed. "We are going to have to capture all of them, Seeker. You mark my words. I've sent to Greagoir for more Templars, but they may not get here in time. They are bringing the phylacteries for the Circle mages, just in case." He turned his head to the side. "You seem to be having a change of heart, Leliana … or, a hardening of your heart, to be more precise."
All Leliana said was, "Redcliffe." She knew Marrance understood. Almost an entire village dead … all to hide that a young boy was a mage. The stress of the lie finally undid Connor's mother who sold her soul to a demon. For so long, Leliana thought Dorothea was too strict about mages. Now, after seeing first hand what unmonitored magic could result in, she thought the Denerim Grand Cleric was right to be strict.
Marrance sighed. "There are many we need to keep an eye on. Senior Enchanter Uldred tells me that warden Jowan is a practicing maleficar." He shrugged. "Since he is a warden now, we cannot touch him but we must be vigilant during the battle."
Leliana laughed. "Jowan? A blood mage? Have you met him?" She followed with a shudder. "Uldred is the one I'd be banking on turning into an abomination. He is too slick, too smooth. He makes my skin crawl."
"Lonber agrees with you." Marrance closed up the journal he'd been writing in and locked it away with other papers in a chest. "Since the wardens have been learning basic, non-augmented Templar abilities, hopefully, they will be able to subdue Jowan if need be."
"Jowan is going to be in the infirmary, Marrance. If you are so worried that the little mouse Jowan is a maleficar, put Istus in there to help the healers and keep an eye on him." Leliana arose and started to leave.
"Good idea." Marrance stood. "And, Seeker?" He waited until Leliana turned around. "It is good to have you here in your official capacity."
Varric plopped down beside the First Warden at one of the more empty mess tables. Bertrand would be beside himself if he knew Varric was associating with a Kal Sharok dwarf, but the First Warden was all right. "So, Cal, what do you think? The good guys got a chance?"
Cal laughed. "All we can do is hope, storyteller." He leaned back. "You know, General Kezel wants you to head to Denerim with the group of civilians leaving shortly."
"Yeah, I was told by one of his flunkies, but a good storyteller never relies on hear-say and second-hand information." Varric lovingly caressed the stock of his crossbow. "Bianca's staying, so am I… probably next to Cousland."
"Good." Cal nodded. "She'll need someone who can shoot bolts through through those wide swings with that hunk of metal of hers."
"So …" Varric began.
"You gonna start all your sentences with 'so'? That's how storytellers in Orzammar go about things?" Cal was smirking.
Varric was nervous. He wanted to know about Alistair's future without causing any problems. His romance with the Warden Prince and his Princess needed an ending, but he just said, "Nevermind."
"If you're about to ask me what happens with Alistair after the Archdemon is dead, stand in line. About the only one who isn't asking me is Cousland because duty is bred into her bones." When Varric didn't say anything to confirm or deny it, Cal added, "I'll tell you what I've told all the others: Alistair is a warden, a damn good warden with a lot to offer the order. Duncan believes he could be second to a warden-commander anywhere right now and a prime candidate for warden-commander at some point. So, that's the basic answer. As to what he'll do specifically, it will depend on who's still standing when the dust clears."
"Fair enough answer, Cal. Not the answer most of us want to hear … except maybe Alistair." Varric laughed and then nodded toward the corner table where Alistair and Arlaine were speaking quietly. "As long as he can be stationed somewhere near her."
Cal frowned. "No guarantees, Varric. No guarantees." He got up and yawned. "Going to hit the barracks for a few hours. I suggest you do the same."
Varric was about to say that he was going to join Alistair and Arlaine when the couple arose and headed out together. Then, he shrugged. "Sounds like a good idea."
Arlaine knew they didn't have much time to develop their relationship here and the future seemed so uncertain. And, that made her sad. They'd spent a few minutes in the mess hall, but it was getting late. Sleep was important, too. It helped a soldier stay alive. So, Alistair offered to walk her back to the Highever tent and swore he would go straight back to the warden barracks. "Roddy was trying to turn command of the flank over to me, but I declined." Arlaine shrugged. "I haven't been privy to any of the planning meetings and the men already look to him to lead them."
"So, you had to order him to give you orders?" Alistair chuckled.
"Something like that." Arlaine got serious then. She stopped and turned Alistair to face her. "Alistair, my self-appointed duty is to fight by your side … if you'll have me there."
She could read the conflicting feelings skittering across his face, but what he said made her smile. "I know telling you hang back would fall on deaf ears. I know telling you that I want to keep you from danger would make you roll your eyes. So … taking all those things into consideration …" He looked directly into her eyes and she found it hard to breathe. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have by my side, Lady Cousland."
Even in the shadows of the darkening camp, she could see him blush. There were few people moving around and they were in a fairly empty part of the camp, but certainly not private. She wanted to kiss him, but he beat her to it. His lips were surprisingly soft and yet insistent.
Propriety be damned, she decided to herself. She slipped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with fervor. Not that she had a lot of experience in kissing or anything, but she found that she really liked a man who was taller than she was … and Alistair was just the right height. His passion was as honest and open as he was. She was about to suggest that they find a more private spot …
"Ho! Above!" The cries of the sentries stationed atop the new guard towers got everyone's attention.
People starting filing out of barracks and tents like ants from a kicked-over hill. Most of them half-dressed, pulling on armor, buckling on weapons. Alistair was looking up and pointed. Then, his eyes scanned down and horror filled his voice. Arlaine turned and looked where Alistair was looking … where the danger from above was diving … toward the king's pavilion.
Alistair ran toward the golden tent with multicolor banners, shouting, "Cailan! Wake up! Get out of there!"
But, it was too late. As it got closer, they saw that the Archdemon had a large boulder in its claws. It hit the tent as Cailan opened the flap, crushing him beneath it. The force of the blow staggered everyone running toward Cailan's tent. All of the serious long-distance armaments were out of position to stop the dragon which dove again and doused the tent in a gout of hideous purple flame, just as it had done with the farm holds on its way back south. However, this time, one of the Circle mages joined with Uldred and Neria to hit the monster's wing with three ice spells. It had to struggle to fly away, but it was injured. Sadly, it did fly away.
A bucket brigade was formed to douse the flames. Once the fire was under control, both Alistair and Arlaine worked with the group to lever the boulder off the tent. The Chantry clerics, covered with soot and mud, carefully lifted and carried the king's crushed and partly-burned body away to be readied for his funeral pyre. Another body was found in the tent. A female elf that Loghain identified as a Tevinter spy they'd been looking for. An Antivan elf … Alistair had introduced him as "Zevran" … found a pack full of the spy's notes and a journal. Arlaine noticed the Howe family crest on the journal cover and made a mental note to read it if she survived what was to come.
Arlaine couldn't stop all the thoughts swirling in her head. Alistair was now the king of Ferelden. Did that mean they would need to keep him out of the battle? Would the Archdemon even know? Cailan's opulent tent did more to identify him as the leader than anything. Alistair wouldn't be wearing Cailan's golden armor. Maybe he wouldn't be in as much danger. Should she keep him from fighting in the battle? She looked at his resolute face as he watched the clerics solemnly carry the king's corpse away and then shook her head. There was no force on Thedas strong enough to keep Alistair out of this battle.
Everyone was in shock. Arlaine looked around and saw the faces of the men and women. She turned Alistair to look at her. "Look at the people around you, Alistair. They need words of encouragement."
"Good idea." He looked around and motioned to a dais the Chantry had been using. "Why don't you go up there to speak to them."
She grabbed his shoulders. "They need to hear from their king, Alistair."
He looked confused for a moment until it sank in. He started to look around. She saw the moment that he realized they were looking at him. "Maker," he whispered.
"You must be strong for them or everything we've done here will be for naught. The Archdemon will win." She hoped appealing to his warden duty would help.
She was interrupted by Loghain who handed Alistair the sword Cailan had just given him. "Tell them what you plan to do with that sword … Your Majesty." Arlaine didn't miss the moisture in Loghain's eyes, nor the tracks on his sooty cheeks. Neither did Alistair.
Duncan walked up and nodded. "Now, would be a good time, Alistair."
Alistair turned to the crowd that had gathered. Arlaine knew he was capable of this. She willed him to be capable of it even though his upbringing did everything to squash that capability. Varric handed Alistair a wineskin and the new king took a long drink.
"I don't know if I can do this …" Alistair had to clear his throat. He looked down at the sword in his hand, took a deep breath, and then stepped up onto the dais. "I … um … I only have a … a few things to … uh … to say right now, but they are things you should all know." He paused and took another deep breath.
So far, the crowd was polite and expectant, but Arlaine did notice a few of the younger nobles starting to jeer. Before she could go over and knock those jeers off their faces, Alistair began again. "I just met with King Cailan … my brother … not long ago. He told me how proud he was of everyone here … from the stable boys to the blacksmith apprentices to the military. Everyone … even me." He smiled and so did a lot of the crowd.
Most people here knew Alistair and everyone knew of the Warden Prince. "Cailan was proud of how we all put our differences aside, kept our criticisms mostly to the constructive, and amassed the might to put an end to the Archdemon. We spoke about Ferelden." His voice cracked and he had to take a moment. "We marveled at the diversity of our cultures and the wealth of our history. The glory of the harvest going on right now even during these trying times." He turned his gaze toward Arlaine. "The compassion and strength of her people when the Archdemon destroyed farms on its tirade south … even though Highever, the home of some of those people … had itself been destroyed."
Alistair held up the dragon bone sword. "Cailan gave me this sword with the command that it be used to slay the Archdemon …" Arlaine could see his courage build and flare. She had never loved anyone as much as she did this honest, humble and sincere man. "… and I swear to all here, that I will see our king's murder is avenged! That Highever and those farms in the Bannorn are avenged! That this sword finds its way into the heart of evil! The Archdemon dies here!"
As Alistair was finishing those final words, Varric beckoned Arlaine to lean down so he could whisper in her ear, "Was Maric that overly dramatic?"
But, Loghain answered the question. "Yes."
"Ah, so he comes by it honestly." Varric chuckled.
Varric's humorous comment was soon drowned out by shouts of "Long live, King Alistair!" Followed by everyone … even the previously jeering nobles … taking a knee and bowing their heads.
Poor Alistair looked horrified. Fortunately … or unfortunately … depending upon your viewpoint, Warden Daylen came to his rescue. A falcon swooped down in front of Loghain and reformed into the warden. He didn't even look around to see what he'd interrupted or what had happened in camp. "Teryn Loghain! The horde has split into three battalions: one from the southeast, one from the southwest and one from due south. They are merging on Ostagar … a day out and marching here! The Archdemon has shown itself but not with any particular group. It seems to fly around at will, but it is with the horde. All the scouting parties are retreating here as quickly as they can." That got everyone off their knee.
Loghain bowed to Alistair and turned to the crowd. "Everyone to duty! The king's funeral will be in the morning and then the battle will be upon us."
After the crowd dispersed, Alistair stepped down from the dais, went to Arlaine and took a deep breath. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers. "Maker protect us," was all he said. Arlaine had the exact same thought.
AN: Thanks to all reviews, favorites and follows! :)
Lady Cougar-Trombone, thank you for your review! I adore Flemeth … such a busybody. ;) As for the Architect … when warden Nathaniel argues to support the Architect, I so wanted an option to say … "You've been in the deep mushrooms again, right?" hehe
katydid, I really appreciate your kind words! :) Alas, all the planning and scheming is about to be tested! ;)