A/N: Happy Memorial Day to all! Hope all is well with everyone and enjoy!
Eamon and Teagan were still trying to make Alistair see their side of the issue the next afternoon even after they spent most of the night arguing. The ex-Templar was putting up a fight and though they were slowly gaining ground, it was a steep, uphill battle. He was polite but cool towards Ffion and the Warden felt the sting though she tried to shrug it off. Alistair had been her partner in this from the moment it started and they shared a bond that she couldn't hope to have with her other companions. The taint that was coursing through both their veins would forever link them, no matter what else might happen, and not being able to talk to him with the ease they always shared was more of a loss than she would have believed it to be.
Luckily for her, the awkward pauses at the supper table didn't last long. One of Eamon's soldiers was approaching their end of the table and Alistair's annoyed curse was drowned out by the crude joke Zevran was muttering in Ffion's ear as a way to pull her from that encroaching ledge. It cropped up so often throughout the day and he was worried he was going to run out of those lewd jokes that called her back before she toppled into the abyss. Maybe he'd just have to put his head together with Oghren's and see what the Dwarf's arsenal held… The Warden laughed out loud, shoving his shoulder as the guard stood patiently to one side.
"That's awful," Ffion scolded even with that dimpling grin and dancing grey eyes, "There's no way-"
"They can wait," Alistair's voice was even more cross as jealousy shot through him. His honey eyes were on the soldier, "I want to finish eating first."
"I'm sorry, Warden Alistair," The man said slowly, a little bit fazed at the ex-Templar's sharp voice but too professional to allow it to really show, "But the Arl was asking for Warden Ffion. If you're available, serah?"
Ffion was surprised at this and she glanced at Alistair briefly before downing the last of her wine and getting to her feet. Tilly immediately left Wynne's side of the table where she had been getting little bits of pork and was at her lady's side.
"Sure," She answered.
The guard led the way up to the office room that she had been summoned to the night before, but this time it was only Eamon waiting for her. He was sitting behind that large imposing desk but he looked up with the same warm smile as she was announced. She gave him a little bow and waited until he finished with his writing.
"You must be wondering why I asked just you to come up here," He wasn't asking and his blue eyes met hers as he sealed the letter he finished.
"Well, yeah, a little," She paced to the desk, Tilly snuffling around the corners of the room.
The Arl sat back in his chair and surveyed her with an intensity that made her feel more self-conscious than she had for some time. His eyes seemed to pierce right through her and her heart sank a little as she realized what was going on.
"Alistair doesn't know who you are, does he?" Eamon finally asked, confirming Ffion's suspicions.
The Warden's hands tightened in front of her and her grey eyes didn't drop from his. She parted her lips, prepared to deny this, to play dumb, and something made her stop. This man had been a friend and ally of her father's, had always been loyal to Ferelden and her people, couldn't she return the favor? The medallion was resting against her chest and it seemed to warm as the thought crossed her mind.
"No," She answered quietly and surprised herself by the answer, "He doesn't. The others don't either, though I'm sure some of them have guessed something. And, ser, I'd like to keep it that way, please."
"I thought perhaps you'd done it on purpose," He was speaking quietly and then getting to his feet and motioning her to follow him. They approached the fireplace that was in the center of the wall behind the desk and he poured two glasses of ale, continuing even though his eyes were on his work, "Sit, please, and don't trouble yourself. I won't tell anyone. Not even Teagan has guessed and he was always fond of your brother. They used to wreak havoc when the Teyrn and Fergus came to see us."
Ffion was smiling sadly as she thanked him for the ale and settled into the chair more comfortably. Tilly was dropping at her feet, her warm weight just touching her lady's toes.
"Thank you, Arl," She answered, this time for his promise. She swirled the contents of her mug for a moment before pressing on, "You are aware of what the bas… What Howe did, right? I mean, I'm well aware that news is arriving later and later, and probably more skewed, thanks to the Blight. But I'm sure the village has heard what happened in Highever?"
"Indeed," Eamon was slowly sinking into the chair opposite, welcoming the cozy warmth of the small fire in the grate. He was looking at Ffion again and seeing the resemblance to Bryce Cousland in her clear grey eyes and smooth brow, while Eleanor was in the set of her jaw and small, rather round face, "Yes, we know what happened, and… you need to know this, Ffion. Though, maybe you want to take a couple of sips of ale before I go on."
Ffion cocked her head at him, sitting a little straighter. She searched his gaze and her smile was even more faint.
"After the horrors I've seen in this world, all the deep dark places in our physical surroundings and what exists in people's hearts, I don't think this will really make any difference, however…" She took two swigs of the ale and then tipped the mug in Eamon's direction, "Right, go ahead."
And in the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, that sudden dismissive irrelevancy, he could see Fergus, who had always been ready with a smart comment and had a passion for playing pranks. But the Arl was sure that this was more a mimicry of her current companions. Even as a young girl, those few times he met her, she was polite and mature, always willing to visit with him and eager to make her father proud. Which was never in any form of doubt. Bryce had been entirely wrapped around Ffion's little finger and he held her in the palm of his hand. Eamon didn't think he would ever see a family that was as close as himself and Teagan, and then Isolde and Conner, but the Couslands had seemed to have everything, to have done everything right, and this was why it was so hard to believe the rumors that his brother had relayed to him.
"Well, after Teagan told me what had happened, my one question was: why would Loghain allow Howe to return to the fold without facing the consequences of his actions? He had destroyed the one family and venerable powerhouse that would be very detrimental to our success in driving the Darkspawn back. Your parents had led Highever into more prosperity than she had seen in decades and I couldn't understand why the massacre of such a financially secure arm of Ferelden would be okay. Not to mention the loss of a just and fair Teyrn and Teyrna and the murder of their good family. Teagan was able to answer that for me," He hesitated, meeting her gaze squarely. The Warden was sitting straight, her head held high, and it looked as though she was keeping her emotions on a very tight lead. Her fingers were pressed against the mug so that the tips of them were white and he wondered how strong that lead was, "Ffion, there was a false conspiracy and more than a few accusations that are completely fabricated. Apparently Howe had papers that were sealed by your father and these were correspondence with the Orlesians. You know your family's history and the land you occupied far better than anyone else in Ferelden; I know how your mother and father felt about their children learning their heritage. And it seems that Howe was trying to make it look like the Teyrn was ready to prod Highever against Ferelden once more, claiming independence for the northern lands, and he needed support from Orlais to do so."
Ffion couldn't hold her tongue anymore. She sat forward, eyes blazing, and slammed her mug down on the table before her. Ignoring the ale that slopped onto her fingers, she shot to her feet.
"Father would never-"
"I know, Ffion, and Teagan knows, too," He interrupted gently, "He thinks that the other nobles could not accept Howe's words without a grain of salt. They find it hard to believe Bryce Cousland, who fought so hard to rid Ferelden of the Orlesians, would turn around and betray his country with them, especially at a time when we need solidarity."
The Warden began pacing beside their chairs, too wound up by this news to stay seated.
"That bastard!" She said fiercely and was sure she would have grabbed one of her knives if they weren't tucked away in her room, waiting to be strapped back to her belt again, "He was supposed to be Father's friend and he…" She spat a sharp word that Eamon was sure would make any other woman, and probably some men, blush to their roots, "I'm sorry, go on, Eamon. Unless that's it?"
"Well, that's the root of it, at least," He answered, hardly blinking at her use of his familiar name, not that he minded. It was just another trait of her father's that was so refreshing to see, "We don't even think that Loghain believes this, but Howe has always been a brilliant politician and his arrogance and ambition, while off-putting to most, is unmatched. He is what the general needs now to help him with that aspect of ruling as Anora's regent. And so it's not too surprising that Loghain has willingly turned a blind eye to what the Arl did so that he can have him on his side."
"That just puts the Coward General on the same level as that…" She was sill pacing with short, quick strides and at Eamon's startled chuckle, she managed a small smile, "Sorry, Alistair started calling him that and it just kind of stuck."
Eamon nodded his head, amused, and glad to see that Ffion was a little distracted now. The fierce light that entered her eyes was so one-tracked, he had half expected her to jump from the window and run all the way to Denerim to take Howe down. That was definitely not recommended and her mention of Alistair helped him to switch tactics.
"Speaking of Alistair," He began pleasantly, as though they were discussing an old friend they hadn't seen for some time, "I think he is starting to come around to our thinking, but he's still very resistant."
Ffion paced back to her chair and placed her hands on the back of it, not sure if she was ready to sit again. Her grey eyes were still blazing, but they were losing some of their heat. Lifting her shoulders, she spoke rather absentmindedly.
"We all have to do things we don't want to do."
"Precisely," He replied briskly, "I think what upset him the most was the fact that he was kept out of your planning with Teagan. He hasn't hid his appreciation of your trust or the fact that he respects you and, if I can be bluntly honest, I think he felt rather betrayed by the way it was handled."
Ffion's face reddened with shame and she tightened her hands on the chair, inclining her head.
"I figured that," She answered slowly, "But Teagan seemed to think it was best to just come to a consensus and then wait for you to help us convince him. I didn't mean to hurt him, which he should know well enough."
"And he does," Eamon's voice was gentle again, seeing that Alistair meant more to the Warden than she was letting on. It wasn't what his nephew felt for her, not yet anyway, but there was definitely a little seed of something there, and he couldn't stop the wheels in his head from turning. If everything went well, if they won this battle and came out ahead, the joining of the Highever Teyrnir and the king of Ferelden would be… But he was getting far too ahead of himself, "But I think he misses having someone to talk to. I know he has been confiding in Wynne, but she is on our side of this issue and has been pushing him as well. Perhaps you should try. Don't attempt to sway him one way or the other, just listen to him."
She smiled wryly at him as she plopped down in the chair and tucked the toes of her boots under Tilly's heavy weight again.
"I'm kind of the bad guy here, Eamon," She replied, "Remember? I'm on your side, too."
"I honestly don't think he's too worried about that anymore. Like I said, just listen to him, let him vent a little. And we'll keep working on him."
Ffion was shaking her head, still not sure they were on the right track here, but a knock on the door interrupted her next thought. Eamon called an answer and Conner was flying into the room and bounding up onto his father's lap. Tilly immediately got up and went to lick the little boy's toes; she absolutely adored him and Conner started giggling as the Mabari's tongue tickled him. Ffion got to her feet, surrendering her chair to Isolde who smiled warmly at her.
"Well, my boy, what are you still doing up?" Eamon was questioning as Conner wriggled about and settled himself on his father's knee.
"You promised me a story, Daddy," He answered promptly and then looked shyly at Ffion, "Can it be one about the Wardens? One with a big battle and heroes and Dwarves that drink ale and wenches and-"
"Conner!" Isolde's shock was akin to Oriana and Eleanor's when Oren started acting like his father and Ffion's heart twisted a little, "Where did you hear such things?"
"From Ser Oghren," The boy answered, "He always talks to me."
"Oops," Ffion said with a laugh. She sent Conner a conspiratorial grin. They had formed an alliance the first afternoon the companions returned to Redcliffe when the boy had materialized in the practice yard where Ffion was throwing knives into one of the targets. He had asked to be shown how to do it and she was more than happy to teach him. He had been her little shadow since then and after his lessons with Gaile, who stuck around to teach him how to control his magic until he could be sent to the Circle, he would seek out Ffion or Alistair, whom he had started idolizing, "Never you mind him, Conner. He tells tall tales to upset little boys' mothers. But definitely hold out for a story about the Wardens, and make sure that your uncle Alistair is the hero. He'd like that."
"And you, too?" Conner's green eyes were shining, looking so much like Oren's.
"You'll have to ask your father. He'll be telling the story."
"Of course, Conner," Eamon's voice was tender and Ffion knew that was her cue.
"Thank you for the advice, Arl, and I wish you a good night. Come, Tilly."
The Mabari reluctantly left the family and followed her lady as they headed back towards the main level of the castle. In the long hall that their rooms were off of, Sten and Zevran were coming Ffion's way, assisting a stumbling, completely sloshed Oghren. She blinked in surprise as they came even with her and the Dwarf sent her a sloppy grin. When she left the table, he had been a little tipsy, which wasn't unusual, and she wondered for the first time how long she and Eamon had been talking.
"Hiya, boss," Oghren greeted. He tipped forward quite suddenly and would have landed in a heap at her feet had Sten not grabbed him more firmly.
"How in the world…" She trailed off, at a loss.
"He dared me," Sten answered with a shrug as Zevran chuckled, "He wished to know who could drain a tankard more quickly and when I won, he thought I had cheated. So, one turned into two, and-"
"And two turned into three, three into four; and so on and so forth," Zevran interrupted smoothly, "In no time our smelly little friend was under the table."
"Me?" Oghren's eyes were suddenly fierce, but it was more comical than anything, considering that he couldn't see straight, "I coul' drink any one o' ya un'er th' table. Jus' ya try me."
"Of course you can, Oghren," Ffion replied soothingly, "Now, go and rest up. If we don't leave tomorrow, it'll probably be the day after and you might need the time to recover."
"Righ', righ'," Oghren, still clinging to the Qunari, was forgetting the slight already, "G'nigh', cap'n."
Zevran was able to gracefully extricate himself from them and he was grinning as Sten grumbled to Ffion.
"I do not believe that I agreed to this part of our quest," The Qunari said as Oghren's fingers bit into his side.
"Asala, Sten," The Warden replied, eyes twinkling in spite of her rather cryptic words, "Helping Oghren is like helping me. And, remember, teamwork."
The Qunari pressed on, muttering under his breath, though Ffion had almost earned a smile and Zevran was chuckling again. His amber eyes were dancing, pleased that the chasm had disappeared from the Warden's face.
"All is well, I hope?" He asked, in no hurry to retire to his room.
"Yes, fine," She replied, "Eamon asked if I could talk to Alistair for him. Is he still downstairs?"
"I am not sure where Chirpy disappeared to," Zevran's eyes were fastened on her, curious about this change. The Warden had not exactly been as friendly with Alistair as usual since they arrived in Redcliffe. But the silence was more on the ex-Templar's side than Ffion's and Zevran was eager to know what had occurred, "Our well endowed Wynne asked to speak with him not long after you departed and I have not seen him since. Is there anything amiss?"
Ffion knew her face was an open book where the Elf was concerned, but at least this time she could be honest without worrying her emotions would give her away.
"Not really," She said slowly, "He's a little pissed with me and Eamon recommended that I apologize. I just thought that tonight might be a good time for it."
"Ah, well, I'm sure he will forgive our little dove. I am headed for bed. Care to join me?"
"Good night, Zevran," She replied firmly and was already walking away from him.
His delighted laughter followed her as she turned into her own bedroom. Tilly was letting out a surprised woof and Alistair was getting to his feet from the chair beside the fireplace.
"Oh," She said in surprise, "Here you are. Good, I wanted to talk to you."
He blinked.
"Really? That's weird. I've been waiting around to talk to you," He answered.
Ffion chuckled, glad that they were at least able to speak civilly to each other.
"Should we draw straws to see who goes first?" She asked as she came into the room and perched on the edge of her bed to tug her boots off.
Alistair was watching her loosen the straps of the soft leather boots and remembering doing that same thing in Orzammar while she sprawled on the bed, giggling, and saying that he was the first boy she'd had in her room since that friend of hers… But now was not the time for those thoughts and he clung more tightly to the anger and annoyance he felt over her plotting behind his back.
"Does this have to do with whatever Eamon talked to you about?" He asked, the cool note of his voice surprising even him. Maybe he was spending too much time with Morrigan. Horrible, spine-tingling thought that that was! "I mean, did he ask you to talk to me?"
Ffion let her boots drop and propped one palm flat on the bed, tipping her head a little at him. His honey eyes were still angry and she knew she'd have to be careful here. It would be too easy to lose her temper and make everything worse.
"Yes," She pressed on quickly as the ex-Templar drew himself up and looked as though he was going to argue, "But it's not what you think, Alistair. I wanted to apologize. You're right. I went behind your back and I shouldn't have."
Alistair could see the honest feeling in her face and though that little voice in his head was telling him that she was being genuine, his frustration wouldn't let it rest so simply.
"You're right, you shouldn't have," He said and saw that her grey eyes were starting to flash, "Especially when you knew, when I told you, that I didn't want this life and one of my best days was when I was told that it wouldn't ever crop up."
Ffion bit the inside of her mouth briefly before she ventured a response.
"I know, and I'm very sorry," Her voice was soft and she was trying desperately to keep a hold on her tongue, "But Ferelden needs a solid leader she can unite under to defeat the Blight. Anora is only royalty by marriage and other than that, her one great distinction is that she's General Loghain Mac Tir's daughter. The people think she's beautiful, graceful, and all of that, but beauty and grace do not qualify one to rule a nation, and it's already quite clear that her father is the one that's ruling. And, honestly, what good has that done us? Good King Cailan is dead and it's the general's doing; the Grey Wardens were heaped with the blame and have been all but driven from Ferelden, again thanks to Loghain; the Blight is encroaching from the south, devouring the farmlands that provide Ferelden with more than seventy-five percent of her fresh produce and meats, not to mention the trade goods that are shipped to the other provinces. In all, thanks to one man's ambition and selfish desires, our land is being systematically destroyed and her people have no way of fighting back, because that man has outlawed those that are born and bred for it. Alistair, you can't tell me that this means nothing to you."
Alistair's eyes were flickering and his anger was dissolving into admiration. Ffion was well-spoken and passionate, her grey eyes clear and honest, and he wondered if he could talk her into sticking around when, and if, they won this war and he took over. He was blinking at the suddenness of this thought, realizing for the first time that his stepping forward was going to happen no matter how fiercely he argued. He walked slowly across the room and settled onto the mattress beside her, studying his fingers as he answered.
"You're right, I can't," His gaze met hers and he saw that the trip back to Redcliffe, the time spent in the sun, had sprayed her nose and cheeks with little specks of freckles and her grey eyes were all the more stunning, "And… I'll try, Ffion. I'm not saying I like it, I'm not saying that this still isn't the stupidest thing I've heard… ever, but I am Maric's son, though I hate that, too. And you make a great point, Ferelden needs a Theirin on the throne and I guess I just have to suck it up. Right?"
"It doesn't seem that Eamon and Teagan are going to give you much choice," She smiled at him, sitting straight and tugging the pins that were keeping her heavy braid curled into the bun, "Besides, it's like I told you: Eamon isn't going to prop you up and desert you, Teagan won't either. And, depending on what happens with the Wardens, I could stick around, too. You know, like an adviser, if you'd like."
Alistair's eyes quickened on her face again as the braid started slipping down onto her shoulder. Her tone had been a little teasing and he almost didn't dare to hope.
"Would you?" He asked softly, still searching her face for any sign of the joke.
Her smile was even more gentle as she tugged the last of the pins out and tossed her braid over one shoulder. She patted his arm with her free hand.
"Of course," She answered and then went on as his face flushed with happiness and his honey eyes became more tender than she'd seen them, "Now, your turn. What was it you wanted to tell me?"
His expression was confused for a minute, his happiness clouding his original reason for coming in here.
"Oh, right," He said and shifted on the bed as Tilly came close and settled her head into Ffion's lap, "It's about Wynne, but you've got to swear that you won't tell her I've told you. She's worried that if you find out you'll send her back to the Circle and she's determined to see this through."
Ffion was frowning at him, her lips parting.
"What-"
"Don't worry, she's not threatening to elope with Oghren or anything," He interrupted, his eyes dancing, "Though Wynne does like him, strangely enough, and Oghren did say that he was just the right height to show a human girl a good time, but… ugh. Doesn't it seem worse then Zevran? I mean, at least with him-"
He stopped abruptly as Ffion reached out and tapped his head with a grin, thrilled that he was back to sharing his silly jokes and odd quips with her.
"Focus, Alistair, focus," She said in a teasing voice and dropped her hand, "If it's not that, what's troubling her?"
Alistair was quiet for a moment. That movement was so like what had happened in Orzammar and he had thought for a split-second… Focus, Alistair! This time it was the little voice in his head and he shook himself mentally before answering her.
"It's about what happened in that cavern, when she saved us all with that spell of hers. She's been feeling kind of guilty about hiding it from us and when she had the chance after you were called away, she took it. Anyway, you remember in the Circle, when that mage was concerned about Wynne being so badly hurt? Well, it turns out she actually died."
Ffion's brows went up as the ex-Templar paused in his narration. She was stroking Tilly's ears absentmindedly.
"She died?" She repeated, "But… that doesn't make any sense."
"I know. She said that for this to be even a bit believable, I had to understand some of her history. Wynne's not a mage that was found late in life, she's been in the Circle forever, and even at a young age, she had a knack for healing. She also felt that when she entered the Fade, she was protected and… watched over," He glanced sidelong at her, "I don't know how familiar you are with some of the Chantry's studies, but I've heard of this before. Most people call it the spirit of faith and there are only a few that have actually admitted to feeling it. I figured if any one of us would have a benevolent spirit watching over them, it'd be Leliana or Wynne, so it kind of fits, yeah? Anyway, when Uldred and the blood mages attacked the Circle and sent demons after those kids that were with Wynne, she fought back. The odds weren't even and one of the bastards got lucky. She doesn't remember a whole lot: she said it was just nothing for a moment and then she heard someone calling her name and she felt weightless. There was someone or something talking to her and the next thing she knew, she was blinking up at her fellow mages and conscious of everything again. She said her strength was like it had been when she was younger and she knew what had happened. The spirit that had watched over her had given her another chance and she thinks that it was for this; for helping to defeat the Blight. But she's worried that her time is running short. She told me that she knows she's living on borrowed time and she's afraid that that episode means it's wearing thin. That's why she didn't want you to know. She thinks that you'll send her right back to the Circle and she doesn't want to leave us."
"Do I really seem that mean?" Ffion asked with a wry smile, "Wynne has nothing to worry about. She's a good healer, we need her, and she's part of the company now. What would we do without her?"
Alistair smiled back, pleased. He got to his feet with a yawn. If he wasn't so tired, he'd sit on the bed and talk to her all night.
"We'd be screwed," He answered, "Are we leaving tomorrow?"
"Or the day after. You'll have to let Eamon know about your change of heart and Oghren might need a couple of days to recover."
"Right, forgot about that. So Sten won, huh? Didn't think the Qunari would concede to doing something so close to… fun, I guess."
"He's coming around," She grinned up at him, "By the time this is all over, he'll be giggling with Leliana, swapping recipes with Wynne, and as crazy about Morrigan as she is about him."
The ex-Templar shuddered a little, heading towards the door.
"Banish the thought," He said it like a prayer and sent her his crooked grin, "Good night, Ffion. And thanks, for understanding and apologizing, I mean."
"You're welcome. Good night."
