Four days later, they met the arl's men on the main road from Redcliffe to Denerim. It was snowing again. There had been several warm days since Ostagar, enough to melt the snow that had fallen, but this day seemed to drive home that winter was indeed almost upon them. Alistair drew his cloak further about himself atop his horse, urging the beast forward so he could speak with the soldier who met them at the back of the baggage train.
"Greetings!" he shouted, raising both hands in the universal sign of being unarmed. As he got closer, the soldier recognized him, calling out that the wardens had returned. Burying his hands with the reins back in the depths of his cloak, Alistair led his companions past the small baggage train, seeking out the main contingent of soldiers ahead of them.
By the time they arrived, Teagan and Fergus were already heading toward them. Alistair could see the smile beaming from Fergus's face even at such distance, and he briefly wondered if there was anything that could make the man not handsome. I bet he has no trouble with women… the thought died off as he remembered that Fergus's wife and child had been killed by Howe. He shuddered to think of how they had suffered before the man finally killed them. The Arl of Amaranthine was not known for being particularly merciful.
"Well met!" Teagan shouted as they closed in. "Is your warden business successfully done?"
"Yes," Alistair answered, now close enough that he had no need to shout. Coming to a halt a moment later, he dismounted. Everyone else in the arl's party was on foot except the arl and his wife, and Alistair was frankly tired of sitting in the saddle. A good stretch of his legs was called for.
"'Yes'? That's all you have for us?"
Smirking, Alistair shook his head, looking meaningfully to Solona, who was next off her animal. "No, that is most definitely not all. But there are too many ears out here for the news we carry."
Teagan wore a shrewd expression. "I see. Well, I'm sure you can share it with us when we make camp tonight. Come, we will tell my brother that you are back; he has been worried about you, Alistair."
Several hours later, as the servants and soldiers worked together to set up camp and cook their supper, Alistair found himself with little to do. Nights on the road with ten people had a particular rhythm: he would set up his tent, gather more firewood, go get water to start boiling for whatever they would be eating that night, and then sometimes clean up after supper. Usually he'd fit an hour of sparring in there somewhere, as well, usually while supper cooked. As an honored guest of the arl, and hopefully Ferelden's future king, he had literally nothing to do, actively discouraged from helping should he try. Once his tent was up, his hands were idle. He was not used to it. His life had always involved work, whether in the arl's house, in the Chantry, or as a Grey Warden.
As soon as the arl's (very large) tent was assembled, however, his idleness was over. Meeting Solona, Wynne, Leliana, and Zevran outside, he gave them a nod before leading them in.
"Ah, Alistair! Here you are, to share news of what you found, I hope?" Arl Eamon was seated at a chair, a small table in front of him, covered in scrolls. The business of the Arling didn't end just because its arl was not in his castle.
"Yes, Your Grace. We found something very interesting on the fields of Ostagar," he said, taking the scrolls Wynne pulled from the satchel at her hip.
The arl visibly blanched. "Ostagar?! That was the 'warden business' you had to take care of?!"
"Among other things, yes," Solona replied, clearly asserting her authority in this. Eamon narrowed his eyes at her, but said nothing more in protest.
"Very well. What did you find?" he asked instead.
Alistair offered him the scrolls. "A likely motive for Loghain's treachery."
Taking the parchments, Eamon read through them thoroughly before looking back up to the wardens and their companions. "This would certainly explain why he quit the field and left Cailan to die. He preserves his troops, and makes the king's death look like a casualty of war. I wonder where his disdain for the Grey Wardens comes in, though…" Eamon looked around the tent for a moment, taking in the fact that Alistair had Zevran and Leliana with him, in addition to the others. "Right. I'm sorry, but I'll need the tent cleared. In addition, someone should fetch Teagan and Fergus."
"Actually, Your Grace, I have to insist Zevran and Leliana stay."
"I'm sorry, Alistair, but this is for those involved-"
"They are already involved, Eamon," he said, interrupting. He knew it was risky, but he also knew that once Eamon got going, it was hard to argue – or even to shut him up. "Zevran will be a special advisor to the crown when all is said and done, and I trust both of them with my life."
"They also already know all there is to know," Solona pointed out, trying – and failing – to hide her amusement.
Eamon just stared, a slight frown on his face as he watched them. Finally, he gave a slight nod. "Very well. They may stay. I hope they'll have the manners not to interrupt as you have, Alistair."
That did it. Solona actually snorted out a laugh. "Sorry," she quickly apologized, turning around to compose herself.
Eamon shook his head, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "Will someone please go get my brother and the rightful Teyrn of Highever? We have business to attend to."
Morrigan lifted her head from the fire to find that the dwarf with the most offensive of odors was coming their way. She was at a fire with Natia and Sten, contemplating the odd relief she felt at the return of her travel companions. It had been a long week surrounded by boisterous soldiers who kept trying to flirt with her, and on the second night she had discovered, much to her chagrin, that she was incapable of casting even the simplest of spells. Given how she had left things with the Chantry harlot, it did not take her long to deduce that the bard must know how to make magebane. But it took another day for her to figure out that it was in the wine and water supply. Morrigan knew how to make the antidote, but had none of the ingredients with her. She would either need to await the party's return, or purchase the ingredients in Denerim once they arrived. And in the meantime, she had no choice but to drink the poisoned water and wine, and stay near the arl and his wife – nobody had tried to do anything without her permission, but she tired of the flirting.
Her attention was brought back to her current situation by Oghren's proximity. "You can turn into animals, aye? Like, cats and wolves and things?"
She lifted a brow. "When the desire strikes me."
"Have you ever, uh… you know. 'When in Tevinter…'"
She almost laughed. He was just so predictable. Natia, on the other hand, did laugh, burying her chortle in her hands. "That is a most curious little mind you have, dwarf. And what if I had? Would that thought comfort you during your lonely nights? I know Natia has no desire for you, much as you have tried."
Instead of being insulted, he merely breathed heavily a moment before asking his next question. "Have you ever changed during?"
She knit her brows. "Why did you walk over here just to ask me this?"
"How do we know you're truly a woman? Or even human! You could be a chip mouse… or a nug! Ha! Imagine that!"
Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Why yes! I'm a nug, in human form, come to observe your kind."
Oghren snickered. "Nugs are good with extra sauce. I'm just saying."
"Oghren, take your nug-humping fantasies elsewhere!" Natia came up behind him, gripping his ear and yanking hard. "She's not interested, either."
"Ow! Dammit, woman! I'm a grown warrior of the Warrior Caste! You can't just tote me around by the ear like a boy fresh off th' teat!"
"You're casteless now, and in desperate need of a bath," she countered, maintaining her hold and dragging him away.
"I helped kill that witch's mother! A sodding dragon! The least she could do is wet my flagpole a little!"
"Oh, by the Stone…" Natia released him, raised both hands, and brought them together on either side of his head. He howled in pain, his ears having been soundly boxed, and staggered away, muttering about evil women and their inaccessibility.
Natia came back to the fire. "I'm sorry about him, Morrigan. He is… damn."
"What?"
"Well, I was going to say that he is a terrible example of my people… but other than his idea of romance, he's actually one of the better ones. He doesn't care about status, not really. He's an incredible warrior, and a great teacher. And he clearly loved Branka like no other before things went sour."
"And I care about this because…?"
The dwarf shrugged. "I don't know. He's the only other dwarf around. Maybe I feel the need to explain some of his bad habits away."
"You should stop caring about him so," Morrigan replied, turning back to the fire.
Natia didn't respond, merely shrugging before moving to her tent. Morrigan frowned. She had not intended to drive the small woman away. It had actually been a conversation starter. She wanted to know what happened with Flemeth, but no one had offered any information. Indeed, Solona had not yet even sought her out. The most information she had gotten was from the useless drunk! But information was information, she supposed – she took what comfort she could in knowing that it would take some time for her mother to be after her again.
She was not fool enough to think Flemeth well and truly gone from this world.
"Ah, Solona! Good, I had a question for you." Morrigan was pulled from her musings by Natia calling across the fire. Looking up, the witch saw Solona, Alistair, and the rest who had disappeared into the arl's tent approaching. She had not actually even seen them up-close yet, and she found her heart inexplicably beating harder than it should.
"What was that, Natia?"
"Can you force Oghren into a bath the way you did Max the other day? It's getting so bad that I'm starting to feel bad for his pony."
"I heard that, Natia! Sodding women, always telling you what to do…" The rest of the dwarf's mumbling was drowned out by laughter.
"I would appreciate a proper debrief on what happened in your confrontation!" Morrigan snapped, narrowing her eyes at the party.
"Ah, yes, there you are, Morrigan," Solona answered, nodding once as she closed the distance between them. "I thought it best we not speak until Leliana had a chance to, uh… get you something."
The bard held out a vial. Morrigan took it, eyeing it with suspicion. "What is it?"
"The antidote," Leliana said simply. "One drop in each wineskin will do. I would put it in the main supply of water, but it is too difficult to tamper with at the moment, under guard as it is. I will take care of it once we arrive in Denerim tomorrow."
"I see. And that is it? You are not even going to apologize for leaving me utterly defenseless while you were away?"
Leliana's eyes narrowed. "You care about apologies? Besides, you were in no danger from the arl's most loyal men, whereas we faced your mother for you. And you have been learning how to defend yourself by hand should your magic fail you. I would not have actually left you defenseless, Morrigan, no matter how much I dislike you."
"Well, at least you admit that you dislike me. There is that, I suppose." Morrigan pocketed the antidote. She believed that the bard would make it to specification. Leliana would not do all that work to help kill her mother just to poison Morrigan when she returned.
"I-" Leliana began, only to be cut off by her lover.
"Perhaps I could have a moment alone with Morrigan, my love?"
Leliana shut her mouth, glaring for a moment before turning and stalking off toward her tent.
"Thank you. Honestly, given that she poisoned everyone's water just to get at me shows how manipulative the wench-"
Solona rounded on her, her hand brightening momentarily as an icy blast filled Morrigan's vision, briefly chilling her down to the bone. "Dammit, Morrigan! Stop that! We all just went and confronted your mother – who shifted into a high dragon, by the way! We almost lost Zevran and Alistair, both! Thank the Maker for Leliana's supply of magebane, Morrigan, or who knows what damage Flemeth would have been capable of causing! Leaving you defenseless here was not the wisest course of action, but in the end, you were safe! Meanwhile, we all risked our lives for you. And your gratitude is to insult us? No wonder nobody can stand you. I think I gave Alistair the right advice to avoid trying to woo you – I'm not sure you're capable of truly caring, Morrigan."
Morrigan simply gaped at Solona, who now produced a large volume that had been tucked under her arm. Shoving it into Morrigan's chest, she grunted, "Your mother is dead. You're welcome."
In Morrigan's hands was her mother's grimmoire. Ignoring the bothersome guilt that tried to surface in response to Solona's little speech, Morrigan disappeared into her tent without a word, hugging the heavy volume close to her chest.
Two days later, they made their way into Denerim. It was very strange, being able to walk right into the city out in the open. The wardens, while fugitives, were here under the protection of Arl Eamon. In addition, it was important they show their faces, riding into the city tall and proud; they had to inspire nobles who knew them not, after all.
Solona was quietly thankful that her horse had quit being so fractious months earlier. It would not do to be thrown from her animal while trying to impress the nobles.
"Your Grace, I have never been to Denerim before, not like this. What can you tell me about the city?" Leliana asked. Solona looked over to her lover, eyebrows knit in question. Leliana merely smiled, then winked. Solona grinned. Her lover was laying on her charms for the arl, winning him over. He still was not completely convinced that she and Zevran were wholly reliable. Solona was privately impressed. Leliana was being both flirtatious and incredibly appropriate and professional. Oh, but she was good at what she did.
"Denerim is the heart and soul of Ferelden," he replied, beaming up at the walls of the city, whose gates they had just passed through. "It was the city of King Calenhad and the birthplace of Andraste. It is as stubborn as a mabari, and as good to have on your side." Here, Max let out a happy little bark, running a quick circle around Solona's horse. "If we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us. By calling the Landsmeet, I will have struck the first blow. The advantage, for the moment, is ours."
"Ah, yes, he will be forced to make a move sooner than he is ready. Hopefully we can jerk him into making a mistake," Leliana observed. Solona smirked as Eamon looked over to Leliana with surprise etched on his face.
"Indeed. Perhaps I have not given you enough credit, Lady."
"You continue to be surprised by the women of your country, my husband," Isolde murmured, only audible to those riding closest to the arl and his wife. "When will you believe me that we are capable of more than you seem to think?"
Eamon merely shook his head. "It takes one time to change one's ways completely, my dear," was all he said in reply. Addressing Leliana, he added, "I am sorry for my assumptions. And I am glad that the wardens have had such a sharp mind to advise them while you have been on the road."
Leliana merely smiled, blushing a little. "I understand playing your cards close to your chest, Your Grace. And… thank you… for your praise, and for such a beautiful description of Ferelden's capital. It would serve well in any ballad of the city."
"Given your, uh, former source of employment, I will take that as a compliment," the arl remarked. All Eamon knew was that Leliana was a former minstrel and lay sister for the Chantry. He was none the wiser as to just how interesting his statement was, given that she was actually a former Orlesian bard.
Solona's attention was caught then by a figure walking quickly through the market square. Studying it a moment, she gasped, immediately jumping from her horse and tossing the reins to Leliana, hurrying away while ignoring the shouted inqueries. She barely even noticed that Max had followed her with a chuff. That face… it was so very familiar.
It belonged to her little sister.
Running through the crowd with ease – people tended to avoid a running figure sporting such generous weaponry – she found the girl had stopped just outside the Chantry.
"Revka?"
The figure turned, revealing a face as dark as her own but with warm, rich brown hair with hints of red, like Solona's had been as a very small girl. She was shorter than Solona was by almost a full head, wearing a plain, homespun dress with winter boots poking out from beneath the skirts and a plain cloak about her shoulders.
The girl studied her for a moment, eyebrows knit and head cocked to the side slightly. Presently, she gasped, a hand going to cover her mouth. "Solona?"
Solona nodded, still utterly shocked to have simply run into her sister walking through the square. She supposed she noticed her out of all the others because there were so few dark-skinned people around, even in a bustling city like Denerim.
Her musings were cut short when her sister closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around Solona's shoulders and hugging her tight. "Oh, I wanted to kill Mother when she sent you away! Derek thinks you were merely caught, but I was awake when the templars came! I heard that it was our own parents who called for them. I can't believe you would return after all that!"
Solona, arms wrapped just as tightly around the girl's waist, responded with the first thing she thought of. "I'm just glad you don't think ill of me."
Finally pulling back, her sister placed a hand upon her cheek. "But what happened to you? A tattoo? Your hair? And why all this weaponry?" Before Solona could answer, Max finally butted in, pushing his head between them before jumping up on Revka, demanding attention. Laughing and petting his great head once he jumped back down, she asked, "And a dog? And it is a mabari?"
Solona wasn't quite sure how to explain. "A… a lot has happened since last we spoke. Perhaps we could speak out of range of prying Chantry ears?"
"Oh, yes! But where? We cannot go home…"
"I am here with the Arl of Redcliffe, under his protection. Come to his estate with me, and we can discuss what has happened since we met last spring."
Nodding, the girl allowed Solona to wrap her arm around her shoulder and lead her back toward the waiting horses and Leliana's near-bursting curiosity. So caught up in what was happening was she that Solona failed to see the narrowed eyes of the Chantry sister just inside the shadows cast by the Chantry's gates.
Leliana watched Solona walk back to the group, her horse's reins still in the bard's hands. She studied the girl as they walked, deducing that it was likely Solona's sister very quickly. The girl was fifteen, sixteen at most, wearing a simple homespun dress of light grey, a matching kerchief holding her hair back from her face. She and Solona had identically dark skin with matching light eyes, though where Solona's hair was a blinding white in the bright sunlight, the girl's was a gorgeous chestnut, the sun catching the red highlights in a way that entranced the eye. Perhaps that had matched once upon a time, as well, before Solona's hair had turned white?
"Leliana, this… is my sister, Revka. Revka, this is my…" Solona's eyes flicked up to Leliana's, panic showing in them. She smirked. Of course Solona didn't wish to say "lover," but what other description was there? That was precisely what they were – most recently that morning. All the extra time they had due to the arl's servants and soldiers taking care of chores in the camp meant a lot more sleep… and sex, as well.
"Enchante, mademoiselle," she said, reaching a hand down to take the girl's – Revka's. "I am Leliana. Your sister is… very dear to me," she supplied, sitting back up after shaking the girl's hand.
"Leliana," the girl murmured, seeming to test it out. "How did you come to know my sister?" The girl's accent was less proper than Solona's. Perhaps because she had grown up a peasant, while Solona was raised a scholar?
Solona cut in before Leliana had to try to answer that one. Somehow, talk of her vision didn't seem like it would go over well. It was something she kept close to her chest these days. Indeed, only Solona, Alistair, and (unfortunately) Morrigan knew of it. "That is another thing we should discuss behind closed doors, I'm afraid. But I believe we are almost to Arl Eamon's estate. Would you like to ride with me?"
"I… have never ridden before…"
Leliana smiled as Solona showed Revka where to put her feet, helping the girl into the saddle – side-saddle, for her dress – before climbing up behind her. It would be an awkward ride for them, but it wouldn't last all that long – Arl Eamon and the rest of their companions had already passed through the gates to his estate up ahead. In fact, if they waited much longer, they would be the last to arrive.
Urging their horses forward, they caught up to the tail-end of the arl's soldiers. Wending their way to the front of the estate was easy enough on horseback, however, and when they neared the steps leading to the main entrance, a groom came to take their mounts. Dismounting, they rushed inside, poor Revka still without an explanation.
The arl turned to greet them as a servant led them into the great hall – Alistair's friend Ellia, actually. Leliana supposed she'd never been outside of Redcliffe. This would likely be one of her only opportunities. "Ah, Warden. And who is this?"
"This is my sister, Your Grace. Her parents live here in Denerim."
If he was confused by how Solona worded her reply, the arl gave no indication. "I see. Well, we shall make her comfortable. I'm afraid she'll have to wait to visit with you. We should discuss our first move immed-"
He cut himself off as the shout of a herald rang through the hall. A moment later, the sound of armored figures echoed all around. A man with a hooked nose and long, dark locks of hair headed the group of three. He was flanked by a woman with a sword much like Sten's strapped to her back, broad shoulders and angular features somewhat at odds with each other. Next to her was a graying man who towered over the other two.
"Ah, Loghain. This is… an honor that the Regent would find time to greet me personally."
So this is Loghain, Leliana thought to herself, the one responsible for the carnage we saw at Ostagar. There was nothing terribly remarkable about him… except for the air of intense calm he radiated. She recognized it at once. This man was all business, and could not be charmed, nor flirted with, nor misled or manipulated. As a target, he would have been exceedingly difficult. In the end, he likely would have required one of Zevran's skills to kill – someone getting physically close, without being seen, before striking quickly from the shadows. The skills of a bard would never work on such a man.
"How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" Loghain's voice was somewhat higher than Leliana would have expected, slightly raspy, yet not unpleasantly so. He spoke with the accent of one common-born, and the rasp made it clear he was accustomed to shouting orders, as any general would.
Eamon's frowned. "The Blight is why I'm here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden must have a king to lead it against the darkspawn-"
"Ferelden has a strong leader," Loghain interjected, gesturing with one hand. "Its queen; and I lead her armies."
"What is going on, Solona?" Leliana heard Revka whisper, luckily unheard by the nobles bickering ahead. Leliana turned and took the girl aside.
"Your sister is a Grey Warden, Revka. There is no time to explain, but we must let Regent and the arl discuss this without our interruption, yes?" The girl nodded, her eyes large, while Solona looked on with an expression of gratitude. Then Solona's eyes narrowed and she marched up next to Arl Eamon.
"Considering Ostagar, perhaps she needs a better general," Solona announced. Well, if she wanted to enter the conversation memorably, she sure managed it, Leliana thought with a smirk.
Loghain's expression darkened. "I recognize you. You are the Grey Warden recruit. You have my sympathies on what happened to your order at Ostagar. Such a shame they should choose to turn on Ferelden and their king…"
Leliana braced herself, ready to go for either Solona or Alistair should they choose to try to move against Loghain and his poisonous words. Neither moved beyond tensing, however, a move likely only Leliana could recognize, knowing both as well as she did.
Solona raised an eyebrow after a moment, crossing her arms over her chest in a most disrespectful pose. "I do not accept your sympathies, ser."
"Get back, churl," the woman with Loghain suddenly spat, stepping forward with a scowl. "Your betters are talking." Solona tensed much more visibly, but otherwise did nothing but frown at the woman.
"Enough, Cauthrien," Loghain said, cutting her off with a raised hand. "This is neither the time nor the place." The woman nodded stiffly, stepping back to behind the regent. Loghain narrowed his eyes again before addressing Eamon once more. "There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."
Eamon actually let out a laugh, which echoed through the hall. "Illness? Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these… sycophants," he replied, gesturing to the Loghain's two companions.
"How long you've been gone from court, Eamon," Loghain said, pacing to the side to bring the tall fellow into view. "Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Teryn of Highever?"
"And current Arl of Denerim, since Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar." Rendon Howe's voice resided in his nose and throat. It reminded Leliana of a sniveling weasel, almost oily, and dripping with false loyalties. "The Regent has been… generous to those who prove loyal."
"You lying, traitorous bastard!"
Leliana turned on her heel, watching as Oghren and Natia both lent their aid in holding back Fergus Cousland, who had just slipped free of Teagan's restraining hold. "You murdered my family! Slaughtered my people – innocents! All under the banner of friendship!"
Loghain merely frowned. "So the Cousland traitor's son still lives? You house an awful lot of fugitives under your roof, Eamon."
"Fergus, please. This will help nothing," the arl hissed, looking sympathetic but also exasperated. "Please leave the room if you cannot be civil."
With murder in his eyes, Fergus turned, shaking off the hands that held him and marching stiffly from the room. Loghain's eyes followed him until he was gone before they snapped back to Eamon.
"I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened, our king is dead, our land is under siege…. We must be united now if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed?! You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight! With your selfish ambitions to the throne-"
Solona interrupted with a deep frown upon her face. "What efforts can there be when you outlaw the Grey Wardens?"
Loghain turned to her once more, his face looking almost sad. "Cailan depended upon the Grey Wardens' prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well that ended?" Shaking his head, he continued. "Let us speak of reality rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us."
Before anyone else could say anything in response to Loghain – Leliana had a crude joke forming about how Solona really was a tall tale, in both senses of the term – Eamon replied, his eyes hard as he regarded the traitor before him. "I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but not I. Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight."
Rather than look squeamish or quell in any way, Alistair merely stepped up next to Eamon and stared hard down upon Loghain, who only came up to his nose.
Loghain stepped right up to Alistair, not cowed by the taller man's stature. "The Emperor of Orlais also did not think I could bring him down. Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland."
Leliana didn't know why she said it. In fact, she truly should not have. But something compelled Leliana to speak, even as the Teryn and his companions turned to leave. "That was a long time ago, Teryn Mac Tir. Surely that past can be put behind you and Empress Celene?"
Loghain froze, turning slowly to look at her. His eyes held shock at first, changing quickly into loathing. "You house traitors even from our oppressors now, Eamon? The harlot you married wasn't enough? Now you bring one in armed?" Holding her eyes a moment longer, he finally continued his march outside. "If my guards see any of them outside your walls, they will be hanged for treason."
Nobody moved until it was clear Loghain and his companions were gone. "I am so sorry… I should have known that he would not respond well to my accent if he heard it," Leliana said, holding a hand over her face in embarrassment. Really, she was better than that kind of mistake! "I spoke without thinking… I just wanted to make him think."
"It's all right, Leliana," Alistair consoled her, coming to her side and patting her shoulder. "It just confirms our suspicions about this all being about Orlais. He was never going to change his mind."
"Solona… this is all so… above me," Revka murmured, staring at her sister with wide eyes.
Eamon hummed. "Yes… perhaps you two can speak briefly before we meet. I have a sudden need to speak with the arlessa after that scum insulted her so."
Solona nodded, coming to her sister's side. "Revka, I'm sorry you walked into thi-"
She was interrupted by heavy, armor-clad footfalls. Everyone looked up; Leliana half-expected it was Loghain re-entering the hall. Instead, a young man in light armor, the flaming sword of Andraste stamped upon his leather cuirass, marched into the room. He had light skin, light brown hair falling in loose curls from his head, and his face was clean-shaven. He would be handsome with a few more years, but looked only like an overgrown boy who thought himself awfully important, standing as if he owned the estate with feet spread apart and his sword held loosely by his side.
Suddenly, he raised his weapon, pointing it at Solona.
"Apostate! Remove your hands from my intended this instant!"
A/N: Oh no! What just happened?! Who is this asshole?! Dun dun dun!
And, since I completely disregarded the way in which the Amell warden is related to Leandra and the Hawkes in canon, I decided to at least throw a bone in the direction of canon and give Solona's sister the name of the woman who is supposed to be her mother. Plus I like the name. So there.
