A/N: Wedding time is over, and boy am I EXHAUSTED! Dancing for five hours straight has made me a bit incapable of normal movement for the time being, so while I recover, here is another chapter to conclude the Orzammar treaty. After this, our Wardens will be tying up loose ends and preparing to launch their final assault against their enemies in the capital, both human and darkspawn. Stay tuned and enjoy!

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Fifty-One. Arlindria: True Kinslayer.

There were happier times once. She sees them sometimes when she dreams, reliving those moments when her mother was still alive, and Trian and her father, too. Her mother, her face a hazy and distant memory, smiles down at them as they gather around Endrin's knee, their small bodies thin and scrappy and riddled with bruises from the pretend Provings they play at in the palace to determine which one of them is the better warrior. Trian pushes Arlindria out of the way when she comes too close, his demeanor ever stern and uncompromising. "You're not the eldest, know your place," he says, and Arlindria sticks out her tongue at him and remains exactly where she is. Bhelen is still a toddler, and he clings to the fabric of Arlindria's skirt, having not yet learned to hate her or see her as a threat of any sort.

"My children," Endrin says affectionately, buffing Trian on the chin and stroking Arlindria's mane of blonde hair. Arlindria lifts up Bhelen so Endrin can reach him and bestow a few gentle pinches to his cheeks. "Do you know what today is?"

"The anniversary of your coronation as king," Trian and Arlindria recite dutifully. Bhelen simply nods along, since he is too young to master such words as 'coronation,' even though he is old enough to comprehend its meaning.

"Correct. I still remember that day so vividly, as if it were only yesterday. Would you like to hear the story, my children?"

"Yes, father, please," Arlindria says earnestly. With a smile, Endrin sweeps her up and plants her firmly on his lap, which makes both Bhelen and Trian pout for a moment before he begins to speak.

"As you know, I was the second child of your grandfather, King Ansgar Aeducan, and was not groomed to take over the throne of Orzammar," Endrin begins as his three children lean forward intently, though they have each heard this story more times than they can count. "Our elections make it so that any noble can be elected king, regardless of House or birth order, but it was always assumed my elder brother would be the one on the throne, and that I would serve as his chief courtier as well as his military captain. Now, the humans have a saying that it is a foolish thing to put all your goods in one basket, and this is something our family had to learn the hard way. In fact, that it is why I have seen to it that each of you are prepared to be excellent leaders, because no one can be certain who among you three will be chosen when I am gone."

"All because Uncle, the chosen heir, died before Grandfather," Trian whispers solemnly. "No one thinks that the heir will die, but Uncle passed away in an accident at the Proving."

"That he did, my boy. It was a great blow to all of us. Not only did I mourn the passing of a beloved brother, but I found myself the only candidate to a throne my father was slowly losing his will to hold as well. After my brother died, my father followed only years after. I had schooled myself to become the king, but in truth, I was frightened. Lords of other Houses saw my lack of a proper royal education as a weakness, and they dreamed of at last finding an opening to take the throne away from House Aeducan. I feared with all my heart that the Assembly would lose faith in me, and that I would be the one to weaken the House which had been made strong by Paragon Aeducan and had been held aloft by the shoulders of my ancestors."

"But even with the best of Orzammar's deshyrs nipping at your heels, you still prevailed," Arlindria concludes, nuzzling into her father's chest.

"Naturally, my dear daughter. What is truly strong will not be destroyed by the plots and schemes of others. We all have our moments when we are weak and believe our world has turned against us, but a strong man or women rises from their blackest hour and lives to fight again. The rival deshyrs may have thought they could take advantage of my shock and sudden shift from one way of life to another after the deaths of my brother and father, but that I had suffered and lived through these changes made me still their better. The Assembly recognized this in me, and there was little deliberation in their vote. I was made King of Orzammar, and Aeducan remained first among the Houses."

"They put a crown on you!" Bhelen cries, pointing to the ornate helm Endrin had on display whenever he wasn't required to wear it for ceremony.

"Yes," Endrin says, his voice growing somewhat distant. He runs his fingers through Arlindria's hair in a steady rhythm, and though the motion is mindless, Arlindria curls into it like an affectionate kitten. "I remember very clearly how it felt. It was such a weight, but still very much a glorious burden. To be shouldered with Orzammar, to be given its joy and pain, its triumphs and trials... that it is not something you earn simply by having the name Aeducan or being born first, second, or last. It is who you are; it is in your very blood. It is the mark bestowed upon the person who has united both the strong and enduring dream to be the head of this glorious kingdom and the heart to carry through with it and love the kingdom with a pure and unselfish love. I have three very special and darling children, but I think only one of you will be able to join the strength of your dream with the strength of your heart. Such power is a rarity. It may seem simple to you now, but to give yourself purely and completely is no small task that just anyone can perform. It is the mark of kings and queens, and when practiced in its best form, the mark of Paragons."

He muses for a moment longer before a smile returns to his face. "Trian. Arlindria. Bhelen. Being born into this House means many things will be expected of you, but never forget that everything begins and ends with who you really are inside. Do not run against the grains of your lives, but find the place where you are meant to be, and fill that place to the best of your abilities. Whether it be king or warrior or courtier, find happiness in your situation, and do not reach places higher and lower than what your capabilities grant you. And above all, never learn to resent one another for who you are. Be just as proud as your family as you are of yourself. The bonds between siblings are interwoven tightly together, and the moment you sever those bonds is the moment everything unravels beyond repair. Even the most skilled hands cannot repair what damage this sort of hatred performs."

Arlindria reaches down to pull Bhelen back in her arms, and once he is settled squirming against her, she extends her hand for Trian to take. "I love Orzammar best," she says to her brother, her young voice surprisingly firm and unwavering, "but you will always be second to my heart."

Trian doesn't say anything, but he gives her hand the slightest pat before he lets her go. Bhelen remains wrapped in Arlindria's arms, silent and thoughtful as Endrin sets them both down upon the floor. He turns to give her one sad and parting smile before crawling away from her to the other side of the room where he curls up under the shadow of her father's crown where it is settled majestically on its stand, a reminder of the promising and beautiful future only one of them would be able to have.

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When they lock eyes for the first time since Arlindria's return to Orzammar, the air grows potent and charged. The Assembly falls silent, and Oghren, the newest among their not-so-little group, trails off in his announcements of their encounters in the Deep Roads with the two rival Paragons, now both dead due to the paths they had chosen. Bhelen's fists clench, and Arlindria freezes in her tracks, her hands trembling over her heart. She has been waiting for this moment for so long, but nothing can keep it from being painful to her. He is still the Bhelen of her childhood, the brother who would have remained near to her heart had he not destroyed it so thoroughly. Even though their bonds have been damaged beyond repair, just as their father had warned them of, Arlindria stills sees the lines of the beloved and sinless child he had once been in his face, a child who had heard the same words as she had and had been instructed my the very same voice of wisdom.

"Bhelen," she whispers, so softly that he cannot possibly hear. She doesn't want him to, in any case; the name is for her own ears, a way of reminding herself that this is not straightforward revenge like Dulcia's hatred for Arl Howe or their mutual disgust in Loghain. This is a family member standing before her, a brother who in spite of everything she still wishes to save.

"Will the Assembly listen to the word of a kinslayer?" Bhelen cries, still looking into his sister's eyes. "This dwarf murdered her own brother to gain the throne, and was responsible for King Endrin's fatal grief!"

"If it is still within your conscience to say that, brother, how can you dare to let Orzammar's crown sit on your head?" Arlindria snarls, her voice breaking slightly. "Do you not remember father's words? You may have the proper dream and ambition, but you have no heart and no single drop of purity left in you. Will you hold onto your lies to the very end to get what you want?"

"Wouldn't you have, Arlindria? You were the one out of the three of us who lusted after this most of all!"

"I would have done anything, yes, but hurt either Orzammar or my own family!"

"You say that, but you stand in front of me with that crown in your hands with no intention of giving it to the rightful candidate. You would sooner kill me than give me your dream, wouldn't you?"

"I would sooner bring my brother's murderer to justice than allow my family to keep a throne that has been stained with blood."

"And you will put a fool on the throne?"

"Lord Harrowmont is no fool. A fool would not have been able to stand up against an Aeducan for so long after the legacy our House left. The only fool here I see is you. You may have come by this crown honestly if you had taken our father's words to heart."

"I did, my sister. I heard him very clearly when he said that only one of us was meant for this place. Even back then, he always knew it would be you."

"Then why did you fight against it? Why couldn't you be happy for me, and find the place that was meant for you?"

"Happy? How can I be happy for someone who has everything and who by all rights deserves everything? You try growing up in that shadow before you lecture me, dear sister. It would have been better if you and I were never born so there was only one heart to long for that throne."

"How does that justify destroying your family to satisfy your jealousy?" Harrowmont butts in as the Assembly begins to chatter in excitement. "You were not present for your father's final moments. You did not see the look on his face."

"You," Bhelen growls. "If I could not even sacrifice the crown for my own sister and brother, you cannot expect me to watch kindly while my sister gives it to you and locks me away in prison." He withdraws his maul. "If you would determine the fate of that crown, Arlindria, you'll have to get it back from the person who stole it from you!"

"My place in Orzammar as a kinslayer will not reversed. If I am to make it the truth, so be it." Arlindria removes her sword and shield from her back and readies herself. "But Bhelen, I will not kill you because of my own hatred. You are my brother, and I owe you better. If what you desire is to fight me, I will end you for depriving Orzammar of its king and throwing the kingdom into a chaos it will take years for it to recover from. My personal revenge dies here, now that I have seen you for the last time. From here on out, you are an enemy of Orzammar, and I will not allow your treason to stand!"

She brandishes her sword bravely and steps forward to fight without regret or hesitance. The image of what House Aeducan has become— Orzammar's finest tapestry unraveled and trodden on upon the floor— lingers in her mind, but she cannot feel grief anymore that her thread is severed and will never be woven back into its proper place. Bhelen had been the agent of her destruction, but as his family it was her duty to accept his fall as her own, the whole of them coming apart together rather than in fragments. Their part in House Aeducan had ended and would not be repaired to what is was, but as long as House Aeducan and, most importantly, Orzammar could go on, what happens here between herself and her brother is a small and personal tragedy. House Aeducan has Rica, Britomart, and little Endrin still, and for once she is glad to pass it into the hands of people who are close, if not equal to, her own capabilities. She had once had a place, but her fate has taken a new path and has led her to a new purpose. If she can no longer be here, if she is to atone for being a true kinslayer and for allowing her family to fall to ruin in her own inattention, there is always the surface, always the Grey Wardens to find peace in. Aside from the crown that cannot not and never will be hers, it is the most glorious burden she can think of to repay the blood that now stains her hands as her brother kneels before her, making a mockery in death of the reverence he had never been capable of in life.

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Coming Up: When a request from a young dwarven girl sidetracks the Wardens as they are leaving Orzammar, the group begins to question Alixire and her unyielding readiness to make detours back to the Circle Tower.