Salem

My breath came in short, jerking gasps. My eyes burned with sweat and tears, and I did not know how I had manged to stand. I had proven my heritage in the most excruciating way that existed. I had been given no other choice. To show my signet ring would merely prove that I had been at Highever, perhaps a petty thief that Duncan had conscripted after I was caught preying on noble's corpses. Loghain would have spun that tale and the Landsmeet would have believed him.

I had no other recourse but my hereditary reaction to healing magic. In a way, at this time, my curse had become my blessing.

Aftershocks of pain shivered through me and my knees threatened to buckle. I shored them up by sheer force of will, refusing to collapse. I could not falter when my country, my people, and all that my father had fought to preserve stood before me, on the brink of destruction.

I will not fail my house of my blood. Always, we have stood for and protected Ferelden. I will do the same.

"Warden Cousland," an arlessa addressed me. "You declared that Regent Loghain imprisoned the queen, his own daughter. Have you any evidence to prove your claims, or was this Landsmeet called so that we might watch two nobles bring baseless accusations against one another?"

"The warden cannot show you evidence." a clear voice spoke from the dais.

Anora swept out from behind the curtain, chin tilted high, golden hair bound back in an impeccable bun, far from the wreck of a frightened girl I had met in Howe's estate. She appeared regal, worthy of the crown her father had wrested from her head.

"Salem Cousland has my testimony against my father."

"Anora." Loghain hissed, glaring at his flesh and blood, his sole remaining family, with fire in his eyes. "This is not the time."

"Time for what, father?" she asked, haughty. "Time to tell those who would place their trust in you that you usurped the crown from your own child?"

"Your husband was dead!" Loghain thundered, scandalizing all who would attempt to keep a noble bearing. I felt as though I watched a fishmonger in the streets, screaming at an inefficient slave. "You might well have been next! I took every precaution for your safety! But you would not be persuaded..."

"And extreme measures became necessary?" Anora looked to the crowd, and addressed them. "My father..." she hesitated, "...is a good man. Was a good man. Many of you owe him your lives. Many of you owe him your prosperity. But, in his current state, he would upset the balance we have fought so hard to protect. I ask you, teyrns and teyrnas, arls and arlessas, banns...Fereldens...abandon your support of him. Many of you remember Bryce Cousland as I do, fondly. His daughter, in keeping with the ever-vaunted Cousland honor, rescued me when my father tore the crown from my hands. She suffered for that, dearly. But here she stands, a noble of Ferelden, protecting her country. Salem has kept her vow; my father has not."

"Your majesty," another voice spoke from the balcony, but my vision had blurred to the point I could not see who had raised their voice. "Is it true that Loghain subjected the warden to torture, and, in so doing, broke the noble's code?"

"Salem sacrificed her safety for my own; this is all I can tell you with assurance. However, all of you witnessed her injuries." Anora looked to me, her green eyes apologetic.

I understand. I nodded my head, allowing her to keep her family's dignity. She will admit that Loghain's grip on sanity is tenuous, but to confess before all Ferelden that he broke the code he himself established...Mac Tir would lose everything. For the friendship we once shared, Anora, I will grant you this small allowance.

"Thank you, your majesty." the voice responded and the low hum of conversation continued. Anora withdrew, having said all she needed to...all she could bear.

Slow, I turned, facing Leliana, struggling to stay standing. I thanked my lover with my eyes. Anora's words had strengthened our position.

You made it possible, dear heart. You, who have ever been my strength, have become my success as well. There will not be enough years left in time to convey how much you mean to me. There will never be enough time to repay my debts...even were I not cursed to die young.

"Bah." Loghain huffed. "Trickery. Chicanery. Bribery and blackmail. You would hold my daughter's life at ransom, Cousland, until she quotes your falsehoods word for word. I know your game, traitor. You would set one of your own, a blighted Grey Warden, on the throne of Ferelden. While he may be Maric's son, he is an ill-educated, ill-trained, ill-equipped bastard!" he shouted.

I caught Alistair's eyes in the crowd. He flinched, but obeyed my silent order to come forward. He moved to stand beside me and I rested my hand on his shoulder, a sign of endorsement, but also because I did not know how much longer I could stand. My warden brother's eyes flared as he felt the measure of weight I placed on him, but he held firm.

"This is no time for doubt." I whispered to him. "You are the very image of your father. You possess his strength, you possess his wisdom, and you do not share his sins. I am with you, Alistair. I am with you, and I needyou."

He nodded. "Say what you must, Salem."

"You let a king abandon his child." I glared at Loghain, remembering Eamon's words.

Loghain knew.

"You cast a boy adrift without a father. Lords and ladies assembled, look at this man! He is a warden, yes, but his features are Theirin, his blood is that of kings! He fights for this country while Loghain attempts to rip it apart at the seams. Alistair has been wounded in battle; he has sacrificed all that he is for the protection of innocents. What better man to sit on the throne? Not a child who dreams of grandeur as Cailan did, Maker rest his soul; but a man who has seen trial, killed enemies, known hunger and the plight of the common man."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, straining not to cough. I witnessed the skepticism on the faces of Ferelden's leaders. Maric's indiscretion was little known, but Loghain had cemented Alistair's identity, screaming it out before the Landsmeet.

Anger a fool and the truth will emerge, I smirked, remembering a piece of Eleanor Cousland's wisdom. Thank you, mother. I hope you can see me now, the child born for your sorrow...I did listen, mother. I learned well.

"A puppet king for your wardens!" Loghain fumed, furious. "It does not matter that he is Maric's own son! What matters are his allegiances! Tell me, boy," he sneered, addressing Alistair, "whom do you serve?"

Alistair swallowed, hard. His eyes flitted wildly around the room, and my heart broke for what I had done. I could not step forward as I always had for him. I could not speak for him. This would be his defining moment, and I begged all the gods that the strength I knew resided in his spirit would come forth and triumph.

Maker, give him that strength, I prayed, noticing Wynne's closed eyes, Leliana's lips moving in silent supplication. I removed my hand from his shoulder, biting my lip as my knees threatened to cave once more. I shored them up and every nerve ending in my back and ribs shrieked in agony.

Alistair strode forward, standing in front of Loghain, his shoulders squared, his stance...regal. I smiled in spite of my pain.

"I serve the people." Alistair answered Loghain's query, iron in his tone. "And I would serve Ferelden as I do the wardens. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. I cannot be the man my father was, and I am not the man my brother was."

Alistair began moving, drawing the eyes of the crowd to him, standing proud in his polished armor. He held his head high, his eyes were bright with fervor, and in my mind's eye I saw the crown resting on his head.

"I am the man Cailan wished to be!" Alistair declared, his voice proud, unwavering. "I have fought, and will continue fighting for this country, and I will destroy any who would dare infringe Ferelden's borders with as much intensity as I battle the darkspawn that threaten us now! Loghain," he flung an accusatory finger at the man, "who preaches of freedom, who builds a pedestal for himself on the bones of soldiers who died for our liberty, has sold those who seek our protection into slavery!"

Gasps echoed from the rafters and off the stone floor of the room. I smiled at Alistair as black spots danced in front of my eyes, threatening to carry me into darkness. But my warden brother's hands were shaking, his hair was dampened with sweat, and he needed me. I forced myself to remain awake, to ignore the pain, and to be at Alistair's side...as he had ever been at mine.

He has spoken as a king would. This is your role, my brother. The Maker intended you for such a time as this. Maric's indiscretion may well have been the inadvertent salvation of Ferelden. Your part in this battle is done, Alistair. Let me continue the fight from here.

Alistair stepped away from the center of the room, followed by the admiring gazes of young men newly ascended to their father's positions, and young women who giggled and hid coy smiles behind their fans. Older men stroked their beards in thought and many eyes that had turned cold at the mention of Maric's bastard began to thaw.

"What is this, Cousland?" Loghain snarled at me. "You have your puppets bringing their own accusations now?"

"No." I stated, forcing my eyes to stay open.

Maker, I am tired. Loghain's mage used too much magic. The spell to heal me is draining my strength...what little I had managed to regain.

"Alistair discovered this treason for himself, Loghain." Zevran handed me the rolled parchments and vanished back into the crowd.

I unrolled the slaver's contracts and held them up before the bannorn, allowing them to see Loghain's seal and his distinctive, sprawling signature.

"These are contracts," I handed the papers to servants, who disseminated them amongst the Landsmeet, "with Nevarra, Antiva, Tevinter, and yes, even Orlais, to provide them with slave labor from Ferelden's alienage."

The conversations rose to a dull roar and I waited for a response from the assembled nobles. Loghain tapped his armored boot on the stone floor, impatient, anxious.

"You present compelling evidence, warden." one of the banns spoke. "However, Ferelden is in crisis. Our coffers are in need of gold. In light of that fact...well...they are only elves."

Anger gripped me as I watched several hoary heads not in agreement. Loghain smiled at me, a man who had committed a crime, and feared no punishment. Fury boiled in my veins and my vision flashed white, giving more reason to stand against those who would oppress the already downtrodden.

They. Will. Burn.