Part 7: Strength

Chapter 53: Grudges

Morrigan couldn't sleep.

Not that she needed to be sleeping right now; the sun had already broken over the horizon and light peeked through the cracks in...Aedan's tent? Their tent? Morrigan rubbed her tired eyes and let the thought trail off. The man sleeping next to her snored once again. The resulting noise rumbled against Morrigan and echoed in her sleep deprived head. She thudded her forehead against the pillow repeatedly.

Yes, therein lay the cause of her woes. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Aedan's slumbering face. How dare he make such a content face when his snoring had woken her up in the night. Another deep snore shook the tent. Morrigan resisted her burning desire to grab the man by the face and shake him awake as violently as she could. She smushed her hand against his face to try to turn him over. The man mumbled drowsily and lay still as a rock. Morrigan slumped her head in defeat.

Usually he only snored so loudly after a night of drinking. He still had insomnia and still often drank to help him sleep. Often times Morrigan would wake in the middle of the night to hear him having a nightmare, or to simply find him sitting up in bed staring into the distance, sipping from his flask.

As if sleeping next to a woman would cure his insomnia, thought Morrigan. Twas the fancy of young maidens and their tales. Still, at least he was sleeping a bit more, and that alone was worth it. She watched him sleep for a little bit longer before she heard the clattering of pots outside. The smell of slightly burnt bacon wafted inside.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready! We need to get going early so we can get into Denerim on time!" shouted Alistair, "Get up you two."

Aedan groaned half asleep. Morrigan felt his body shift against hers as he pulled the blanket tighter around the two. "Five more minutes," he muttered in his sleep. There was a slight wheeze in his breath; Morrigan glanced at the bruise upon his chest, from where an ogre had punched him. Morrigan brushed her hand over his chest, a slight glow of magic emanating from her fingers, then the bruise faded. Aedan's breathing slowed and relaxed.

Alistair pulled open the tent flap. By this point, he had no reaction to the two sharing a bedroll. Light trickled through the opening, and Aedan groaned at the sudden change. "Come on Aedan, we should really-"

The witch held her finger to her lips and silenced Alistair. He took a single look at Morrigan's slightly reddened face, rolled his eyes with a smile, and left the tent. The tent darkened again as the flap fell back into place. Aedan's arms were draped loosely around Morrigan, and she could very easily pry herself from his grip and start getting ready. Instead the witch rested her head against his arm.

"Just five more minutes," she murmured.


While the others got ready, Aedan and Morrigan sat inside their tent. Morrigan hovered her glowing hands over his back and sighed. His wounds had opened up once again after recent scuffles with the darkspawn. The creatures had begun venturing from the south and scouting out their next destination. What had once been a few stragglers had turned into roaming squadrons of fully armed darkspawn. No longer could they avoid scuffles with the darkspawn while travelling.

Morrigan brushed her hand over the rough stitches that still lay embedded in Aedan's body. Despite how unappealing they looked, they did their job and kept Aedan's wounds from completely opening back up. She traced her finger gently down the path of the bloodied scar, her magic sealing up the skin and flesh. "I told you to stop overusing that...whatever it is you do." She cursed that decrepit old mage for ever giving Aedan that vial.

Aedan grunted, "If I don't keep using it, I won't get better with it. It's like riding a horse."

"Well, it opens up your wounds each and every time you go too far, so guess who has to fix that up?"

"I'd rather err on the side of caution and be as prepared as possible for the Archdemon...but I appreciate what you're doing for me. Really." Aedan placed his hand on her wrist.

"Do not touch my hands while I'm healing you," spat Morrigan as she swatted him away.

"Sorry." Aedan rolled his eyes. Morrigan noticed this and sent a rather large surge of magic through one of his wounds. Aedan yelped as the magic flowed it, sending intense shivers down his spine as the wound healed at a much greater rate. She smirked at his discomfort and patted him once on the back.

"I can only heal so much...the rest is up to you," said Morrigan. She got up and collected her belongings before heading out into the clearing to meet the others.

Aedan leaned back on his bedroll and sighed. "I guess so."


Aedan and Alistair still entered into Denerim in their cloaks. By now, Eamon had actively started his campaign to help the Grey Warden's name, but already the sentiments regarding the order had changed from one year ago. News of Aedan and Alistair's deeds had spread throughout Ferelden, and the thousands of refugees whom they had saved did far more than any public relations campaign could. Still, public opinion would not change the decree of the law: Grey Wardens were to be hunted down and arrested. The allure of money often won over people's moral standings.

"At least they took the wanted posters down," muttered Aedan. He still marked the position of each of the guards while keeping his head down.

"And here I was looking forward to getting chased through the streets," said Alistair.

"Don't kid yourself. Loghain and Howe will have their dogs on us the moment nobody's looking."

"Are they cute little mabari pups? I wouldn't mind being mobbed by those."

Gregory growled up at Alistair. The templar laughed. "You're still cute….just in a different, larger way."

The mabari huffed and left Alistair's side to go back to Aedan's.

The market district bustled with activity- more merchants and customers than ever crowded the streets. In particular, Aedan could see an increase of noblewomen out and shopping, and the goods offered were of higher class than usual. The Landsmeet tended to draw much more business into the city. Though many nobles found it a pain to travel all the way to the city, the citizens of Denerim certainly enjoyed the extra money. Though, thought Aedan, they might be a little more eager to come to this one considering the darkspawn were nipping at their ankles...or in the case of the South, had devoured them whole. In any case, the large crowd afforded the group suitable camouflage.

After navigating through the market district, Aedan rapped his knuckles against the wooden gate of Eamon's estate. He had never been inside, but he had often met up with his father outside this very gate after Eamon and Bryce had finished their business.

The guardsmen peeked through a slot in the gate and closed it right back up. The familiar sounds of a castle winch being worked rumbled through the air. The gate pulled up and Aedan saw the figure of Eamon and his family come out to greet him. Isolde had wrapped her arm into the crook of Eamon's shoulder. Connor barreled towards Alistair and greeted the templar with a hug of the legs.

"Uncle Alistair! You're here! It's so boring here without you."

"It can't be that bad," laughed Alistair.

"It's filled to the brim with all my father's politician friends and their depressing guardsmen," pouted Connor.

"Let's hide, shall we?" grinned Alistair at the lad and shooed the boy off.

Aedan greeted the Arl with a single nod. "Eamon."

The Arl nodded back. "Aedan. Or should it be Warden? That seems to be the moniker everyone calls you by nowadays."

"Whatever you think is appropriate."

Eamon glanced up and down at the armored Aedan. "That's a difficult decision."

Alistair walked up to Eamon and poked him in the belly. "You're looking significantly less, you know, comatose. You've been eating well. I know I'd be."

Eamon chuckled and poked Alistair back. "Careful, Alistair. We can't have one out of two of our Wardens being too chubby to fight."

Alistair's stomach growled and the templar sheepishly scratched his head. "Sorry, I'm just remembering the last time I was here and you had that cheese platter out."

"If you want, we can have the servants whip up the same thing."

The templar beamed. "Something that I didn't tie up and burn black over a fire? Count me in." Realizing his words, Alistair glanced over at Aedan's serious expression and coughed into his mouth, and attempted to don a more business-like tone."Unless, you know, we should get down to business-"

"Just go eat," said Aedan, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Alistair quietly pumped his fist and strode as controlled as he could down the hallway. Isolde groaned under her breath and followed the templar to the kitchen. The maids and guardsmen arrived and began to escort Aedan's companions into the castle. Eamon quietly gestured Aedan to stay in the courtyard. Once all the others had left, Eamon patted Aedan on the side of the arm. "How about you? You're looking a little better than the last time I saw you."

Aedan raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"You're smiling a bit more."

"I've been sleeping a little bit more. Helps to not be so tired."

"Good. Let's talk in the study then-"

The gates of Eamon's estate shook with three resounding knocks.

"His Regency Loghain wishes for an audience with the Arl! Open these gates at once!"

Eamon and Aedan looked at each other. A nearby scout lept down from the estate walls and bowed before Eamon.

"How many?"

"He has a small platoon of guardsmen led by Ser Cauthrien, along with Arl Howe and his personal guard."

Aedan ran the possible situations through his head and instinctively reached for his sword."Do you think he's here to apprehend me and Alistair?"

"Maybe… or perhaps the guards are for security- your reputation precedes you, you know."

"You'd think killing hordes of darkspawn would grant me leniency, not suspicion." Aedan clenched his fingers against the hilt of the Cousland blade.

Eamon nodded to the scout. "Let them in." He looked gravely at Aedan. "Weapons away."

Aedan sheathed his word, albeit slowly and very reluctantly. The scout worked the winch and the gate began to rise. Aedan's glued his eyes upon gate and the figures that approached.

You could tell a lot about a man by the way he entered a room, thought Aedan. Some, like Leliana, sought to be noticed as little as possible. She'd quietly wrap her hand around a doorknob, half-jiggle it expecting some trap, and then gracefully step through the doorway with silent footsteps. Her life as a bard never left her. Others, like Oghren, made as much noise as possible. Oghren's life as a dwarven berserker never left him. The dwarf would slam the door open and announce his presence to the entire room. Unsurprisingly, Aedan didn't bring him on ambushes anymore.

Aedan observed as Loghain strode through the gate of Eamon's house. The teyrn didn't need to make a loud ruckus to make an impactful entrance. Each step he took had weight behind it. Each swing of his arms carried his momentum as he marched. It seemed he never took his eyes of Eamon and Aedan for a second, but after a year of hardship and battle, Aedan knew better. In battle, you learned to use the vision in the corners of your eyes as well as that which lay directly in front of you. Aedan saw the faintest shift of Loghain's vision to where Eamon's guards were, then back to the two.

Likewise, Aedan had no time to watch only Loghain. He too peered out of the corner of his eyes as Loghain's trusted lieutenants- Howe and Cauthrien, spread out from behind him. Aedan chose to look at Howe as little as possible- to gaze upon him too long would feed his festering wrath. Aedan needed to be in control. The one who would win this war, who would stop the Blight, would be one with control.

Aedan relaxed his fists and took a deep breath. The life of a Warden had taught his body to channel his anger and power, but his childhood had taught him how to compose himself. He cordially smiled as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien stood in front of him and Eamon. Out of the corner of his eye, Aedan saw Eamon do the same. None of the other three before them smiled back. Aedan implicitly understood- there was no need for pretenses. Aedan dropped his smile and replaced it with his usual tired expression.

"I did not expect to see you so soon, Loghain," greeted Eamon, putting both hands behind his back and straightening his posture.

Loghain furrowed his brow. His chin lifted upwards as he spoke. "And why would I not come see the man so important enough that he called every single noble away from their lands while the Blight ravages them? But it is good to see that you are well. It seems miracles do exist." Loghain delivered the line with such relief and regality that one might have forgotten he had ordered Eamon poisoned.

"Yes...tis the work of my friend here. I think you know him?" Eamon gestured towards Aedan with the same courtesy he would a noble. Aedan and Loghain finally made eye contact. The muscles in Aedan's sword bearing arm unconsciously tightened. Aedan stared coldly back and gave Loghain a curt nod.

Loghain narrowed his eyes and glared at Aedan. "I would ask why this criminal is here."

Aedan returned the hostility in kind, replying, "I could ask the same of you."

Cauthrien jerked her irate gaze towards Aedan. "How dare you speak to the Hero of River Dane like that?"

Aedan greeted the knight with a nod. "Ah, Ser Cauthrian, I remember you from Ostagar. You were there too." Aedan lifted his head back up and grinned venomously. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to what happened- it seems Loghain and I are at a disagreement."

Cauthrien's feet shifted against the ground as she glanced once at her liege. Doubt. Perhaps Aedan could prey on that. He made a note of that for later.

"What happened at Ostagar is a known fact. Your order betrayed King Cailan and got themselves and the royal army killed," spat Cauthrien with her voice a little higher. Yes, she still had her anger, however misguided it was, thought Aedan.

"Not only that, but this man here is the last of the Couslands. A family who conspired with the Orlesians against our country," slithered a familiar voice.

Aedan bit his tongue and chose to turn to Howe. Aedan been stabbed, crushed, set on fire, and yet none of these compared to the feeling of staring at that godforsaken smirk of Howe's. Blood rushed through his veins and he could feel the heat flush through his body.

Howe chuckled at Aedan like he would a small animal. "Good thing I had the sense to pull out these weeds while before they spread...although it seems the job was not finished."

Aedan ground his teeth. The sight of Oren's bloodied body flashed through his mind. He could hear his father struggling to speak through the blood that filled his throat. Aedan struggled to push his thoughts back down into the dark corners of his mind. His pounding heart slowed to a standstill.

"Howe, so good to see you again," smiled Aedan. He outstretched his hand to the man who had slaughtered his family. With the slightest hesistance, Howe grasped Aedan's hand. Aedan leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to enjoy gutting you like a pig." Aedan squeezed Howe's bony hand in a death vice.

"I'll kill you the same way I killed your parents. On all fours, like mutts," whispered Howe back as he returned the handshake in force.

The two released their handshake, stepped back, and smiled at one another with cordiality and malice.

"What have you come here to discuss, Loghain?" asked Eamon, "If you simply wished to say hello, I doubt all this...company was necessary."

Loghain leaned backwards and crossed his arms. "I would like you to stop this business of the Landsmeet. Surrender the Grey Wardens to me, and fall back under my command. We cannot afford to squabble while the Blight consumes us. Please, Eamon." Loghain offered his hand out to Eamon.

"I think I will take my chances with the Wardens," breathed Eamon through his teeth as he struggled to hold back his disgust. This was the man who had poisoned him and indirectly caused the slaughter of much of his village.

Seeing that diplomacy would not work, Loghain let his hand fall back to his side. "Where is Alistair?" His eyes darted about the courtyard. The guards shuffled outwards and peered around the castle grounds.

Eamon scowled at the brashness of Loghain's men. "Inside."

Loghain turned his cold glare back to Aedan. Aedan remembered a time when he had been so small he could only look upwards at the nobles at the Landsmeet. They seemed to him giants occupying a world that towered above his. Now he stood face to face with Loghain, meeting his gaze with equal force.

"This isn't nearly enough men to take me," said Aedan, "if that's what you were planning. And if you can't take me, you certainly won't be able to get inside to get Alistair."

Loghain took a step forward closer to Aedan and narrowed his eyes. "You think yourself a commander. A leader- but when I met you in Ostagar, you weren't even a Warden yet, and yet weeks later you attempted to claim yourself as such. You are a sham, and more importantly, a brat who doesn't know when to hand over the reins to someone who knows what he's doing."

Aedan stood his ground and replied, "We've all seen exactly what happens when you hold the reins, Loghain."

Loghain spoke, emphasizing each word with a cold determination: "I do what I do for my country."

Loghain and Aedan shared a second-long stare, before he waved off his guards. "Men! Let us be off. Clearly the Arl will not listen to reason. We will simply have to wait for the Landsmeet to end before we can truly be united." He shared one last glare at Aedan and Eamon. The Teyrn scoffed at the two and turned his back upon them.

As they passed, many of the guardsmen scowled at Aedan and Eamon. "Disgusting," one whispered under his breath. Aedan bit his tongue as the last of them, as well as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien, left.

The gravity of their encounter left Aedan and Eamon speechless for awhile, until Eamon remarked, "That was rather unexpected."

Aedan scowled with disgust at the past events. "Did he actually think that would work, or is he trying to antagonize us?" He narrowed his eyes and remembered Howe's smug smile and his comment about his parents. His teeth ground against one another. "Scratch that. He's antagonized me very well. "

"Howe," said Eamon. He glanced once once at Aedan, then back at the blue sky of Denerim.

"Howe." Aedan's nose twitched. "I smelt blood on him, and I doubt he's the kind of a man to fight for his people. He's been killing, or at least wounding somebody."

"Rumors have spread that Howe become more and more depraved ever since he became Teyrn."

The last time Aedan had seen Howe, he was with Aedan and his father meeting Duncan in the living room. He was smiling and talking politely while his men marched to come kill his closest friends. Had he always been planning this? Did he ever truly think Aedan's family as friends? Aedan had searched mentally for that moment where he changed, where he went from loving the Couslands to hating them, but could not find it. All he could remember was Howe's smile as that wretched man laughed with Bryce Cousland. Aedan wondered whether that was a testament to how well Howe could hide his treachery, or how naive and trusting the young man had once been.

"Do you know what happened to Castle Cousland?" asked Aedan in a hushed tone.

Eamon hesitated in his answer. "I have heard only rumors, as no one visits there. Most of the walls crumbled from the fire and assault."

"What of their bodies?" Desperation tinged Aedan's trembling words.

Eamon swallowed before replying, "I don't know. I'm sorry, Aedan. I've only been awake for a few weeks, I haven't had time to investigate."

The warden grimaced. "It's fine."

The conversation paused briefly while a servant handed Eamon a coat from behind. The cold wind had picked up. Eamon wrapped the wool coat around himself and shivered.

"I would give you a coat m'lord, but your armo-" stuttered the elf to Aedan, who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I'm fine, thank you," grunted Aedan. The servant scurried off as fast as his feet would take him.

"Do I scare them?" pondered Aedan aloud.

Eamon raised his eyebrow. "You scare me."

"Well- let's hope I can scare a few more people by the time this is all over." Aedan still shivered a bit as a strong gust of wind hit his armor, but he was used to it by now. The cold seeped deep to his bones and eased the pain in some of his wounds.

Eamon hesitated with his next words. "Do you want to kill Howe?"

With no hesitation, Aedan answered, "Yes. Preferably sooner rather than later."

Eamon had not been lying to Aedan when he told the young man he was scared of him- the cold, dead look in Aedan's eyes sent chills down Eamon's spine. "It would not be the wisest decision to kill the Arl of Denerim, no matter how despicable he is. We need a good image. Loghain may even be counting on you to come after him so he can have cause to take you into custody."

Aedan frowned and tilted his head up towards the sky. He waited a bit to respond to Eamon. For once the sky was clear and the his surroundings quiet. He took a deep breath of the crisp air and asked, "Tell me. Do you want to kill Loghain?"

Eamon looked down at the ground and pondered. His heart twinged as he thought of the countless villagers of his who had died. "I want him brought to justice. He is responsible for the death of countless innocents from Redcliffe, from this damn civil war, because of his pride. He left my nephew and our army to die. If the court of law dictates he be killed, then I won't complain."

"There's a difference though. Do you want to kill him, or do you want him dead?"

As memories of days long past flowed through his mind, Eamon spoke wistfully, "I don't think I could do it personally. Loghain...though he has done terrible things as of late, he has done much good as well. He fought by my side during the Orlesian Rebellions, and we would not be sitting here today if not for him. I could not swing the sword myself."

"So you think he at the very least deserves the court of justice. What of Howe?"

"Howe is a scoundrel. He will be hanged, I assure you, Aedan."

"So what separates Howe from Loghain? If we go by pure numbers, I'm fairly certain that Loghain has a higher body count of innocents."

"Loghain believes that what he does is for his country. Howe simply acts for himself. Loghain believes he acts on need and Howe acts on desire."

Aedan remembered Harrowmont's head rolling on the ground and that lurching agony in his stomach when the guards had told how many would die. "If only good intentions were enough to absolve oneself." Aedan instinctively reached for his flask and began to unscrew it. Just as he tilted it towards his mouth, he hesitated momentarily. After a moment's thought, he took a swig and corked the flask back.

Now with Howe's death a very real possibility, Aedan wondered whether it was a want or a need. Inside of him burnt a fury that sent rage pulsating through his veins. Inside of him sat a sadness that hampered his way forward. From the beginning, Howe's betrayal had propelled Aedan forward into his new life, and his family's death had weighed him down. His death had to be the solution to the feelings that festered inside of him- then he could finally deal with the Blight with his full focus. In that sense he needed to kill Howe, like a diseased man finding a cure, but when Aedan thought of wringing Howe's neck a smile flickered across his face.


Westholme, thought Aedan in the most delicate words he could think of, was the most boring little village he had ever had the courtesy of stepping foot in. Granted, the small village population and the off-the-road location of the village itself made itself a perfect hiding spot for the bastard. Those same things also left the village square empty and the actual village looking more like a small collection of cottages.

"At least there's not a lot of places to look. Where do we start looking for him?" asked Aedan.

"I don't think asking to local government officials would be correct...whoever moved the child here didn't want him to be found out. Telling the local government the bastard would be living here would start quite a spark. They wouldn't be able to keep it a secret." Bryce continued to peer around the village. One village boy say the pair and scurried back into his house before Bryce could ask him questions. "If I were hiding him," he pondered aloud, "I'd want the child to be well-protected, but have a strict, moral upbringing suitable for if he ever had to become king."

"So. the Chantry? Templars and multiple strict mothers."

"That'd be good place to start."

After several minutes of trying to find a single person about, Aedan and Bryce finally got directions to the Chantry. They took a winding path through one of the nearby farm lands to building much larger than the rest of the cottages. Aedan was surprised at the scale, and at the facilities. Outside the Chantry, what could be a whole squadron of templars drilled against practice dummies.

"A lot of templars. I don't think we even have this many in Highever," observed Aedan. He noticed a pair of templars yelling at someone behind the horse stables. Clearly whoever had earned their ire had done so in the most annoying manner, as once the two templars stormed back from behind the stables, their expressions of exasperation had still not gone away.

"Very suspicious."

After a few introductions with the templars outside, the Couslands were immediately rushed to the room of the Revered Mother. As they waited outside her quarters, Aedan peered around the Chantry. If someone was funding the templars, they certainly weren't funding the Chantry in turn- it looked the same as any other village he had visited, with the standard low-quality metal statue of Andraste and meager offerings placed by her feet.

An elderly woman in chantry robes approached the two and bowed quietly. "I have been told you have business with me," she croaked.

The elder Cousland bowed back."Thank you, Revered Mother, for seeing us." The woman beckoned the two into her office and offered them seats. The wooden seats, made of old low-quality oak, creaked as the two sat down, but neither of the two Couslands minded.

"Tis a honor seeing the Couslands themselves come out to our tiny village. What brings famous nobles such as yourselves here?" The revered mother smiled and set a tray of tea for the two. Aedan eagerly swiped a single biscuit from the tray.

"We're investigating a missing child of an acquaintance of ours. Has your Chantry received any children into its care?"

"The Chantry is a place for all the hungry and weary. Many orphans are brought to us. If they had parents, no doubt we would have brought the child back to them in order to lessen our burden and be able to accommodate the more needy."

"I mean several years ago, perhaps given to you by a government official?"

The side of the revered's mother face twitched ever so slightly, but she maintained her bright smile and asked, "I don't believe any such."

Bryce palmed his hands together, then drummed his index fingers against one another. "Are you sure? We've received information that he was indeed brought to this village."

The revered mother went silent and narrowed her eyes at both Aedan and his father. Bryce Cousland sighed at her obstinance. "I will speak plainly. We are looking for King Maric's bastard. There are people, dangerous people, looking for him. I don't know why, but there are willing to kill to find him. He's not safe here if they come looking for him."

Aedan reached for another biscuit. "Trust me, lady, I have gone through a lot of trouble to make sure the wrong people didn't find him...people have died for this."

The Revered Mother frowned and sighed, "I told Eamon I'd keep the boy safe. He plopped him in this chantry when he was young. Been here ever since. I don't know if this is some political move by the Couslands, but this boy deserves better."

"I assure you, this is not a political move by us. We just need you to assure the child's safety- he needs to be moved somewhere else, somewhere where he can't be taken advantage of. You don't need to tell us where you move him, but you just need to make sure that he is well protected."

The elder woman quietly considered Bryce's words. After a long pause, she said, "Alright. I will consider this. The Couslands have always been friends of the Crown, and I do not think you would risk coming here and telling me this for any other reason."

Bryce and the Revered Mother nodded at one another. "Tell me about him. The bastard," asked Bryce out curiosity.

The revered mother rubbed her temples for a moment and replied with a half-smile, half frown of exasperation, "Oh Al-"

Aedan held up his hands and interrupted, "Don't tell us his name. It's better if we don't know."

"Seems rather impolite to call him bastard for the rest of the conversation, don't you think?" laughed the revered mother. Aedan chuckled a little- he didn't expect the revered mother to have a sense of humor about this, even more so considering that the presence of the bastard brought risk to the entire village.

"He's in training to become a templar. He's a kind boy with a good soul. A little naive at times, but that's a good thing. He can be eccentric at times- one time he just started screaming in the chantry when he thought it was empty, just to see whether anyone was there." The revered mother smiled at Aedan. "He seems a little like you."

The young man made a sour face and crossed his arms ."Considering that screaming story, I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

Bryce shot a scolding glance at his son. Aedan rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Bryce asked, "You think he'd be a good king?"

"He lacks political tact, and sometimes he doesn't quite read the subtext in people's interactions. He's not a very sly boy...but I think that's a good thing. Sometimes you need someone straightforward. Someone who will, despite everybody else playing a different game, barge in and say his mind."

"So he's like Cailan."

"Very much so, but I think our little bastard would be a better king. He understands what it is like to live a life of hardship. Growing up without parents, he understands what is like for the less fortunate. I sincerely hope that that he never has to become king though. Tis more a duty than a privilege."

"Many things are," said Bryce sadly.

"Would you do me a favor?" asked the woman. She reached under her desk and withdraw a small lockbox. She took a key from around her neck and slid it inside the lock. The box clicked open and the revered mother carefully removed the contents.

"The man who brought the child here...gave me a package wrapped in lambskin. He said that whoever came looking for the bastard might come looking for this. If he can be tracked down...then so can this. Perhaps it is better if we move it as well."

The lambskin package. The translations from Teharel's documents had mentioned it. Aedan took the package and opened it up. Inside was a letter, closed by three wax seals- Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. Opening up the letter, however, did not seem prudent, considering that doing so would break the wax seals. Aedan handed the letter to his father, who examined the seals rather carefully. "These are definitely the seals of Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. A good seal can't be replicated, and I've seen their's a hundred times over."

"The two of you can probably guess what's inside there."

Bryce nodded gravely and pocketed the package."Yes...let us not speak anymore of this. Good day, revered mother." He and Aedan got up and bowed once again to her, before heading out the Chantry doors.

Once the tumultuous pair had left, the revered mother sighed and rested her forehead between her hands. Certainly, the bastard had no fondness for Chantry life, but he would also not appreciate being moved to another one for what would seem to him petty reasons. After a few minutes of ruminating on the topic, an idea popped into her head. Perhaps, instead of just moving him, she would let the young man decide next where his future lay.

The older woman opened her drawer and took out another an opened envelope with a griffon seal on it. She scanned the contents again, then dabbed her quill in ink. "To Duncan of the Grey Wardens," she said aloud as she wrote, "I write to inform you that I have heard your request for potential recruits, and have decided to take several promising candidates to your tournament."


Later that evening, Aedan approached the room that the servants had assigned to him. Eamon had graciously given him use of one of the larger guest rooms, meant for more than one person. The older man had smiled wickedly and slapped Aedan on the back. Aedan was surprised that Eamon had picked up on him and Morrigan. Though she spent the nights in his tent, outside of the tent she still restrained herself from public displays of affection. When she had arrived at the castle, she had simply disappeared out of sight. A noble's estate did not hold much interest for her. Aedan guessed she was in her animal form right now, exploring the surrounding areas of the city.

Aedan opened the door to find the room empty and dark, save for a stray ray of moonlight that illuminated the wood floor. Aedan threw his bedroll and things by the side wall, then approached the main bed. He brushed his fingertips over the soft wool blanket. The bedding had plainer colors than Eamon's own castle, but the quality of the fabric still impressed Aedan. He could tell Isolde had spared no expense on the thread count. Under normal circumstances, one should feel comfortable sleeping in it. Still, he had not been able to feel right in the beds in Eamon's estate. Still uncertain as to whether to sleep in the bed, Aedan began to pace back and forth between the bed and his rolled up bedroll.

Aedan rubbed at his face. "I'm being ridiculous, I've slept in beds for the majority of my life.".He halted in front of the bed. His body tensed up as he swallowed his breath. Aedan then forced himself to plop face first into the bed. He tried his best to simply lay still on the soft mattress, but cold shivers shot through his blood the longer he did. Subjected to so many high-stress battles, his body was rejecting the very idea of laying in a bed. Relaxing meant complacency. Complacency meant death. Death meant failure for the one task he was alive for.

Reviled, Aedan scrambled back off the bed. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He pressed his clammy hands against his forehead.

Three loud knocks shot through the air. "M'lord," came a voice from behind the door, "Eamon has urgent news in the study!"

Aedan wiped his forehead and sighed. "Thank the Maker. Something to do."


Once Aedan had made his way to the study, he found Eamon and an elven handmaiden there. For a servant, the elf wore rather fine clothes. Aedan didn't think Eamon had elves dressed in such fineries, so she must not have been one of his. The elf tugged on her frayed black hair nervously as Aedan inspected her.

"Care to introduce me?" asked Aedan to Eamon, still not taking his suspicious gaze off of the elf.

"This is Erlina, the queen personal handmaiden. Apparently, Arl Howe has locked Anora in his estate," stated Eamon, with a little disbelief in his tone.

Aedan and Eamon both turned to Erlina for an explanation. The elf, clearly not used to such direct gazes from nobles, cowered a bit. In her distraught state, this extra anxiety did not help. It took her a few moments more to compose herself- she straightened her back, a took a deep breath, and let her hands fall to her side. Aedan was impressed how quickly she did so. Perhaps life as the queen's handmaiden had prepared her for such things.

"We have all had our doubts regarding Ostagar," she started, "and how this country has been run since, but Anora has been asking too many questions regarding her husband's death as of late. Howe has taken notice of this and locked her away...perhaps even to kill her. I barely managed to escape his guards and come to you." Her voice trembled as she looked back the two with pleading eyes.

"Not even Howe's that stupid," mused Aedan, "Although if anyone were to do something like that, it would be him."

Eamon scratched his chin as he calculated all the possible scenarios. "Does Loghain know about this?" asked Eamon.

"I am not sure," replied Erlina, "He has cooperated with many of Howe's schemes, but I do not think he would stoop so low as to kill his own daughter. I do not think he would throw away even that last shred of honor.

Aedan and Eamon shared a glance. The two quietly left Erlina inside of the study and went to speak outside in the hallway.

"Should we even trust her?" spoke Aedan in hushed whispers. "This could be a trap."

"We can't afford to take that chance. Anora could tip the tides in our favor if we play our cards right. Worse, if Howe does end up killing her, they may even pin her death on you and Alistair."

Aedan paused to process this new information. Now even Eamon could no longer stand by and let Howe exist while he threatened the kingdom in such a blatant manner. The edge of Aedan's lip twitched. His head pounded as the blood rushed through his body. Finally, after so long, he would have his revenge. Aedan breathed out a muted, half-chuckle. "Eamon. You know exactly what's going to happen if you send me in there."

The older man shuddered involuntarily at Aedan's bloodlust filled words. He looked sadly upon Aedan. He remembered when the young boy had been scampering by his father's feet, laughing and begging his father to come play. Now towering over the ghost of that boy stood a cold man with bloodthirsty eyes. Eamon hesitated before speaking. "I know. Do what you need to do."

"Of course," said Aedan. His hands still remembered the feeling of Howe's hand in his. Aedan clenched his fist as though to crush the man's bones between his. "No more. No less."


Author Notes

And we're back! Sorry about the long wait, I've had another one of those hectic work periods in my life. Hopefully things are more settled now. As always, feel free to leave reviews, constructive criticism, or questions! See you all next time!

Brochaco1: Haha it did take awhile for more of that romance. As we near towards the end we'll see alot more of that too hopefully.

Zacharti: Glad you enjoyed the talks! For me, those two conversations were one of the most important to write so it took me awhile to nail them down.

mordreek: Glad you think I'm writing the characters realistically!

13Commander: You're right in that it was very important that Aedan realizes that he has a problem. In this chapter you see that he still has much of that problem with him, and the next few chapters will be about overcoming it (hopefully)

Guest: Having Aedan be called human made me extra giddy! From the very beginning, I had a specific character development arc planned for him, so I try my best to add the depth and character to make that arc work.

577249: Glad it's one of your favorites!

Jarjaxle: No fight unfortunately, sorry. The way I see it, everybody there realized something was off with Aedan, and they didn't want to kick a man while he was down. As for Aedan's self-sacrifice plan...we'll see how that goes.

Suffering Soldier: Sorry about running long between this update, but I'm glad I got you so engrossed in the story!

Zehel2010: Glad you enjoyed the piece! We'll see a couple of characters from the secondary storyline for sure- we are stopping by the alienage after all…

redrosemary: Well you won't have to wait long for the Howe scenes, because that's next chapter. Stay tuned.