And So It Is Written
Anders shot up off the couch and bolted into the bedroom. Alistair was already shaking Sareyna trying to wake her and Anders moved to do the same with Zevran. When Zevran didn't wake up Anders fetched the basin and squeezed cold water from a rag onto him.
Zevran jerked and sat up then looked around, quickly getting his bearings. "Brasca. Enough of this." Zevran rose from the trundle bed and moved to Sareyna's side, "Anders bring the water."
Anders handed the wet cloth from the basin and watched as Zevran squeezed it over her face. Sareyna's eyes opened and she blinked in confusion for several seconds. Zevran stroked her brow as Alistair watched, his eyes clouded.
"Was that?"
Zevran nodded, "I believe so."
"Should I get everyone again?"
Sareyna shook her head, "No, but do you still have your writing things out there?"
Anders nodded.
Sareyna started to rise on shaky legs. Alistair stood quickly at her side and helped her. Zevran followed several steps behind as they all headed to the sitting room. Anders sat and set up his writing supplies. "I don't know whether or not to be grateful that you two are remembering things now."
"Did we scream again?"
Alistair shook his head, "No, you were both talking. I didn't catch much but you both said 'The Maker' and then something about an herb?"
Zevran looked to Anders. "The man, Renault, went to a city called Rutilus Urb. He used demons to take over the city and become its ruler. He made the people of the city call him 'The Maker'."
Anders looked surprised, "The Golden City?"
Sareyna nodded, she looked to Alistair questioningly and he shook his head. She relaxed back into the couch and remained silent.
"What do you mean the Golden City?" Zevran asked.
"Rutilus Urb is ancient Tevinter for 'Golden City'. I don't understand this. You're having dreams about a man calling himself the Maker? And this man used demons to take over a place called the Golden City? Does that mean that the Maker was a man?"
Sareyna finally spoke up, "He's a mage."
Anders looked alarmed, "What do you mean he is a mage? That was centuries… an eon ago."
"Well he was a man, although I don't think he's dead." She turned to Alistair, "I think it's time to tell them about the other dreams."
Alistair sighed heavily, "Fine, but wait until morning and we can have Morrigan here too. She needs to hear this."
Zevran quirked a brow, "I thought there would be no more secrets?"
"I wasn't sure if I was just having bizarre dreams or if something real was happening. This is the first confirmation of any sort that I have had that indicated it was anything other than my over active imagination. So now I'm telling you."
Zevran didn't respond and a long silence stretched out.
Alistair abruptly stood, "I'm going to get some more sleep while I still can." He held his hand out to Sareyna and she joined him.
Anders bent over to write down all that Sareyna and Zevran had just told him. Zevran sat for several seconds before rising and heading back to the bedroom as well. They all needed to get what sleep they could; no one knew how long the onslaught on their sleep would continue.
Sloan paced back and forth outside of the king's rooms. Trelain was fussing again and it made the knight uneasy. Trelain had been such a quiet and happy baby up until several weeks ago. Now he woke from his sleep regularly, crying quietly, which was probably the most disconcerting part. Babies didn't cry quietly, they bawled.
Sloan stood still, listening carefully as he heard footsteps within. The king was moving about holding Trelain; trying to soothe him no doubt. The king seemed tireless, spending more and more time with the child and never losing his cheery demeanor, even with his obvious lack of sleep.
Sloan decided he would fetch the mage Anders in the morning. He knew from around the Keep that he was an excellent healer. Perhaps he could pinpoint what was wrong with the child when the other healer had missed it. Sloan had thought at first the child was just teething, but as many times as he checked he found no teeth on the verge on coming in and the boy had no fever.
He continued pacing, driven to distraction that the king would not allow him to be with the child. It was his duty to protect the child, how was he supposed to do that if he could not keep an eye on him? Sloan tried to keep his emotional distance from the boy, but it was practically impossible. At least the king allowed the Mabari in the room, he felt better knowing Pentheryn was close.
He briefly thought about the boy's parents again. They cared for Trelain, it was obvious, but they seemed a little distant, especially the Commander. Maybe it was only because they were gone so often that it felt that way. Everyone else who spent time with the boy seemed to have an almost rabid devotion to him. If Sloan was honest with himself, it was slightly creepy.
But he himself was no better. He loved the little boy, even being in contact with him for such a short amount of time. Already knowing the answer he knocked lightly on the king's door. "Your Majesty, is there something I can do to help? Anything you need?"
The king's muffled voice filtered through the door, "We're fine, thank you Sloan."
Sloan gritted his teeth, "Of course, Your Majesty." He went back to pacing in the hallway counting down the hours until he could go fetch the mage.
Maric sat in the rocking chair he had brought to his rooms earlier that day. He yawned as he rocked with Trelain on his shoulder. His blue eyes were bloodshot and dark circles marred his skin. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, tangled from restless sleep.
He hadn't been able to turn Trelain over to Eveleen that night; he wanted his grandson with him. Whether from the need for family or concern for the boy he wasn't sure. Part of him wanted to make sure that when he made a decision about what to do with the Wardens from Weisshapt he did so keeping his family fully in mind.
Alistair was right, he needed to remember that it wasn't just any child that was being threatened, but that it was his grandson. Granted he still had no idea what he should be doing, but keeping Trelain with him seemed like the right move for now. He sighed, not knowing if he could go back to the palace in Denerim with a threat like that hanging in the air.
If he did and something happened, he would never forgive himself. He needed to do what he had failed to do all of his life. He needed to protect his family, so he would stay. He would remain in the Keep until he could come up with a viable solution. The only thing he knew for sure at this point is that if the Wardens wanted Trelain they would have to kill him, he was not willing to sacrifice another child for 'the good of the country'.
With Trelain settling down again, Maric rose and placed him back into the bassinet. He moved to the sideboard and poured himself a measure of whiskey before relaxing back into the rocking chair. Closing his eyes he rocked for a few minutes, enjoying the warm rush as the whiskey hit his system. Varel had always had good taste in spirits.
Morrigan had come to the Keep. He had seen Alistair sweep her away up the stairs. She had a tattoo; it suited her, being at the same time wild and beautiful. Sareyna and Alistair had expressly forbidden Maric from going near her until the following day and there was no doubt in his mind that she would be a Warden when he saw her next.
Rubbing his temples he tried not to let his morbid imagination run away with him. He found it harder and harder to grab onto the gallows humor he had been so fond of in his youth. Now he was just tired, so very, very tired.
He looked to the bassinet and saw Trelain kneeling and watching him, gripping the side of the bassinet. "You'll be walking soon won't you? Then they will have their hands full."
Trelain blinked at him, still watching him. Pentheryn padded closer to the bassinet and lay down. Maric scratched the great hound behind his ears. "I'm surprised you are so content to stay with the boy. Wouldn't you rather be fighting Darkspawn?"
The dog cocked his head and gave a slight whine.
"No, no, you're right. You have a very important duty; the most important, in my mind."
At this Pentheryn barked happily and placed his head down on his paws.
Maric sighed, and moved to his desk. He needed something to keep his mind off his children. He gave a bitter smirk, 'my children' wouldn't they all find that amusing?
He started drafting a letter to Fergus; he needed to advise him that he would be regent for a bit longer. He also advised Fergus to redouble the efforts to rebuild the army. Fergus, being a Cousland, was very military minded and he had no reason to fear any choices the man made.
Hastily, he wrote out a decree to be read out during court as soon as it was received. Only Ferelden Grey Wardens were allowed in the country right now, 'while their numbers were rebuilt'. He knew Fergus would find a diplomatic way to present it without causing suspicion. Fergus would be worried, but he really didn't know how to address his concerns at this point.
He then drafted a letter to the First Warden in Weisshapt.
Dear First Warden,
It has come to my attention that there has been a threat made against the Royal family. While I am sure you had nothing to do with this threat, I hope that you understand my need for caution. With the Blight as well as a Civil war only recently ended, the Royal family has to be more careful than ever.
During the investigation, to discover where the threat came from, I regret to inform you I will only be allowing Ferelden Grey Wardens in the country. As I am sure you are aware, the Commander here is an excellent judge of character and assures me that recruiting enough Wardens in Ferelden will not be a problem.
The decree will have been made in court by time you have received this correspondence. Unfortunately, due to the urgency of the issue, I was not able to wait for a response. Once the problem has been resolved and my family is no longer in danger I will of course lift the ban. I graciously thank you for your understanding.
My Deepest Regards,
King Maric Therin
He waited for the ink to dry impatiently. Once dry, he folded the missives quickly and dripped blue wax to form a seal before pressing his signet ring into the still warm wax. Opening the door, he saw Sloan turning nervously towards him.
"Your Majesty?"
"Here, take these to the private who handles correspondence immediately. Let her know that these are both of an urgent nature and must be sent out as quickly as possible."
Sloan nodded and took the two letters before jogging toward the front of the Keep.
Trelain was still kneeling in the bassinet watching Maric when he returned to the room. "Let's hope I didn't just start a war little one." He gave the boy a rueful grin before bending to kiss his forehead.
