A/N: Thanks to those who took the time to review the last chapter. And thanks for sticking with this story.

War of the Laurels

By Spectre4hire

Oren

What's going on?

It was the voices that woke him up. Curious, he pulled back his blankets and went to the door. As quietly as he could, he cracked it open. The light from the corridor was bright, and he was quick to wince and cover his face. It took him a few seconds to recover from the assault on his bleary eyes.

Blinking once, then twice, he turned his focus back to see the familiar faces of Uncle and with him was Wynne. He was surprised to see her, because she was supposed to have gone to the Brecilian Forest with the newly arrived Grey Warden Riordan among others to try to treat with the elves.

They were not standing too far away from his door, and their voices were energetic despite the lateness of the hour.

"A tainted elf?"

That was Uncle. Oren couldn't get a good look at him, since he could only see the side of his face, but he was certain he was frowning.

"Yes," Wynne confirmed, she was holding her staff idly in one hand. She was facing the direction of Oren's room, but her eyes were flicking back between Uncle and something or someone just out of Oren's view. "There were two of them."

"Where's the other one?"

"He hasn't been found."

Uncle didn't seem inclined to settle on that grim news. "Riordan promised to save him?"

"He promised to try," Wynne corrected. She moved to where her attention had been to where Oren couldn't see.

"Was it the same clan?" Uncle took a step towards her.

"Yes, the Sabrae clan," She answered, "They were planning on passing through the forest and travel to Gwaren and take ship to the Free Marches."

"They plan on fleeing." Oren didn't need to see Uncle's face to know he wasn't pleased at that.

"The Keeper is worried for our people," Wynne's tone held none of Uncle's judgment.

"The Dalish have made treaties with the Wardens," Uncle said, but it seemed more to himself than to her. "When will they arrive?"

"In a few days," she turned away from where she was to address him. "You wish to speak with them?"

"I wish to change their mind."

"No easy thing," Her tone was light, but the warning was clear of the challenge that lay ahead for Uncle.

"War and Blights are no easy things," Uncle replied, sounding unbothered, but Oren saw him run a hand through his hair, which he noticed he did sometimes when he was agitated. "When will we know if the elf survives?"

Wynne shrugged. "Riordan will tell us." The bottom of the staff tapped the floor.

Uncle turned away from her, and in Oren's direction, causing him to scramble quickly away from the door so that Uncle could not see him. He stood stiff, holding his breath, in the shadow of his door for the next passing seconds, wondering if Uncle had caught him or not. When he was sure he was in the clear, he let out a relieved sigh and quietly crept back to the door.

"This Warden matter," Uncle waved his hand at the word, "Do you know what it entails?"

"Not entirely, but I'm not a Warden."

"It's all very secretive," Uncle mused, "Even with a life on the line."

"The Wardens are guarded," Wynne chose a different word to describe it.

Uncle chuckled. "I hope he lives." All mirth having left Uncle's tone and stance with the words. "Poisoned by the blight?" He shook his head, "A poor way to die."

"Are there good ways?" Wynne asked wryly.

"I was expecting you to know," Uncle smiled, before turning his back to Oren's chambers blocking his expression from view.

"Is that a jest on my age?" She sounded more amused than annoyed.

"I wouldn't dare. I'm not brave enough to do that."

Wynne harrumphed, but even from where Oren was standing he could see the mage's small smile. "What of here? Any news since we departed?"

"Some," None of it seemed good since Uncle didn't sound enthused.

"I see that Bann Teagen is still in attendance," Wynne pointed out, "Surely that is a good sign."

"He has asked to stay," Uncle answered, "He's hopeful an alliance can still come."

"So there is good news," Wynne sounded happy while Uncle remained indifferent.

"Teagan is not the Arl of Redcliffe, his brother is."

Wynne's staff tapped the floor impatiently. "Did Teagan send his brother a letter?"

"He did," Uncle stood in a way that allowed Oren to only see part of his face. "Bann Sighard volunteered to go." Uncle's tone softened at the mention of the Bann. His troubles were well known throughout the Arling. "He'll deliver Teagan's letter and stay on our behalf to try to come to an agreement."

"He's a good man," Wynne said softly, "I pray daily for news of his son."

"As do we all," Uncle agreed.

The sound of a door caused Uncle and Wynne to look in the same direction, out of view from Oren, but he did not have to wonder or wait too long. The Grey Warden Riordan walked forward.

"He lives," Riordan announced solemnly.

"Praise the Maker," Wynne's voice sounded thick in relief. "Andraste's Light has shone upon him."

Riordan's mouth turned curiously, "A Light the elf may come to curse." He bowed his head, "He is now a Grey Warden."

That seemed to sober them, it was Uncle, who gave the Warden a tight nod.

Oren wondered why neither Uncle or Riordan seemed enthused about the fate of being a Grey Warden. Why aren't they happy? He didn't understand. What's wrong with being a Warden?

"I'll have Revas send a rider to the Sabrae clan to inform them of his survival," Uncle's words brought Oren's attention back to the corridor. "And inform the castle to prepare for the arrival of the Dalish."

"An easier thing to say than prepare for," Wynne reminded him.

"Aye," Uncle agreed, but didn't seem interested in commenting further on that daunting task. He instead turned to the Grey Warden. "Thank you, Riordan, for the help you've continued to give us. I appreciate it."

Riordan dipped his head. "The Wardens are here to serve, Your Majesty, in your fight against the Blight."

They dispersed soon after another exchange of words between them with Wynne wanting to insure their new guest was doing well. Oren moved back to his bed. Crawling under his covers, he thought about what he heard, of the elf, the Grey Wardens, and the pending visit of the Dalish.

It all sounded like one of his favorite stories but that caused his belly to sour.

Life isn't like those stories, the image of his Mother flickering across his vision, lying in a pool of her own blood, a sword in her tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring to himself until it went away, and after a few seconds it did.

He sniffled in the darkness of his room, but was too tired to dab at the wetness he felt on his cheek. Instead, he prayed for a dreamless night sleep.

"What do you think they're like?"

It was the next morning when Oren learned what he shouldn't have been overhearing the night before. He was told some new things that made it easier for him to appear surprised when he was told.

The new Warden was an elf named Theron Mahariel.

They were in Uncle's chambers. He let Oren visit after breakfast and before his first lessons with his tutor. Oren was on Uncle's bed, and was unsuccessfully trying to get Sarim to join him. The large mabari raised his head from where he lay by the hearth. He tilted his head, before settling back down, choosing in that moment to sleep over play.

"Who?" Uncle was sitting at his desk, piles of papers spread out, but he was giving Oren his undivided attention.

I can't waste it, Oren thought, Uncle's a king now.

"The Dalish," Oren thought it was a good question to ask because of the importance of their visit. He was also curious about them. He had never really seen one before, let alone meet one. He wanted to see their painted faces, and their Halla, and Aravels.

"Like everyone else," Uncle didn't share his enthusiasm. He followed it with a shrug. "Some good, some bad."

Oren was a little put out, but didn't want to show it. "Have you seen them?"

Uncle nodded, but made no effort to expand on it.

"What were they like?" Oren had heard Uncle tell countless stories from his travels across Thedas, but he couldn't remember him ever mentioning encountering the Dalish.

"Dangerous," Uncle pushed himself out of his chair, "Friendly."

Oren frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

Uncle smiled. "The first time I came across them was when I was in Orlais," he explained, "And we were traveling and they attacked our caravan."

Oren gasped. Trying to imagine Dalish warriors and archers descending on his Uncle. He had heard they were great and dangerous fighters. "What happened?"

"I survived." Uncle had come over to sit beside Oren on the bed.

"Uncle," Oren tried his best not to sound like he was begging, because he couldn't do that. He was the Teyrn of Highever. He especially couldn't beg to his Uncle, who had been named King of Ferelden by their supporters.

Uncle laughed, "I was scared," He answered honestly, not looking the least bit bothered by the admission. "They were fast and lethal. Blurs in the forest," he paused, "Within minutes, most of us were dead," He turned and looked away. "It wasn't a good day."

"But you lived!" Oren pointed out, and for Oren that made it a very good day. Just the thought of his Uncle dying filled him with a cold sadness. It was bad enough the nightmares he still got of his Mama, and Papa, and grandparents. He turned around and tried to stop the cold shudder that filled him, but he couldn't. He tried to chase away those feelings by latching on to Uncle's story and the Dalish. Hoping learning about them will distract him from everything else that made him sad. So many things.

"By luck not skill," Uncle revealed. "My position in the caravan spared me since I wasn't in either the front or where the supplies were. Those were hit the hardest." Uncle scratched at his chin. "By the time we figured out what was happening and rallying what was left of the men, we just saw glimpses of the elves running back into the forest carrying as much loot as they could."

"That doesn't sound friendly," Oren recalled what else Uncle had said about them.

In this story, they sounded like the menaces that his tutor use to always describe them as.

Never trust a Dalish elf, Aldous had warned him. His face had twisted in anger and Oren just bobbed his head in silent understanding, not liking seeing his old tutor look so angry. He also didn't want Aldous' anger to be directed at him, so he was quick to agree.

"My second encounter with them was that," Uncle clarified. "I was in the Free Marches, and they came in peace, traded goods, and kept to themselves and then they left."

He hoped the Dalish clan that was coming to South Reach were like those elves-friendly and helpful.

"Each clan is different, Oren," Uncle advised him as if sensing his thoughts, "Don't forget that. They're just like the rest of us, good, bad, tricky, loyal," he listed, "Dangerous, selfish, selfless," he continued, "Ticklish!"

Oren didn't have time to react before Uncle's hands were on him and he was laughing at the silly sensation that spread through him. He was trying to stop Uncle, but it was difficult because he was making Oren laugh so hard. He couldn't concentrate, he was dizzy with mirth. His breathing was haggard, and he felt his face go warm.

Uncle finally took pity on him and stopped, but he was grinning, looking pleased with himself.

Oren felt his own smile as he sat up. "That wasn't fair."

Uncle didn't seem to care, but before he could voice such a thought in one of his jests, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Your Majesty," The servant bowed after Uncle had given him permission to enter. "We've received a rider. The Dalish have seen sighted."

Uncle gave a tight nod. "Thank you."

The servant bowed and closed the door.

When Uncle turned back to face Oren, he saw the King of Ferelden. There was no smile or twinkle in his eyes. His face was hard and his eyes focused. "You should get ready." He instructed him.

Oren wanted to groan, but he didn't. He wanted to complain, but he didn't. He wanted Uncle to stay and smile and even tickle him again, but he knew Uncle couldn't.

"I will." Oren said instead. That was the only right answer.

Uncle gave him a tight nod, but a smile did emerge through his stoic features. It didn't linger, but it made Oren's tummy better, all the same.

It was time to meet the Dalish.

Outside the walls of South Reach and passed the hovels and tents that the Fereldan refugees set up around the high walls of the town, Uncle and a handful of others rode out to meet the Dalish.

The newly made Grey Warden, Theron, was not among them. Oren remembered Riordan saying it was Blight poisoning, and even now as a Warden, he'd still need some time to recover before he was fully well and rested.

Uncle had dismounted from his Ferelden forder, before moving to help Oren off his small pony.

The Cousland banners flapped in the dying breeze. The flag bearers remained mounted, a few feet away from the other riders. The Grey Warden Riordan was among them, and he looked like he had just stepped out of one Oren's favorite story books.

Riordan was garbed in the grey of his order. The only spots of blue were in the fabric that could be seen here and there. The griffons on his chest plate looked fierce, but magnificent. The Warden inclined his head to Oren when he spotted him looking at him.

Oren wanted to quickly look away at being caught staring, but he couldn't. That's the actions of a boy. I'm a Teyrn. So he raised his head in recognition to the Warden like he had seen Uncle do so effortlessly so many times as a show of respect or acknowledgement. He even jutted his chin out too, but he doubted it looked as regal as when Uncle did it.

Wynne was also with them. She was in her mage robes that were loose fitting and colorful and reminded Oren of some of his old sleeping pajamas back in Highever.

"They're probably watching us," Revas Surana's voice was welcomed since it became a distraction to Oren before he could remember to be sad. The elf was the leader of the Fangs of Ferelden. An armed force of warriors that happened to be made up of all elves.

Oren would not forget some of the anger and blustering by some of the nobles when Uncle announced his decision to have the group formed.

You give them a knife. One noble warned, And they'll stab you in the back with it.

That had worried him, but Uncle had calmed him and said that Revas could be trusted.

We need all the support we can get, Oren.

Oren knew why, the Battle of Gwaren had cost them dearly, and the majority of their forces had perished in the fight against the darkspawn.

He wanted to tell Uncle that he still shouldn't do it. He wanted to say Howe was suppose to be trustworthy too, but he couldn't. He wasn't brave enough to want to speak his name or remind himself of what Howe did. Of who he killed…

So Oren stayed quiet and nodded, lying when he said, I understand, Uncle.

Thankfully, Revas and the elves he gathered had proven Uncle right. They were turning into a formidable force and were loyal to Uncle for respecting them and giving them the chance to fight.

"They probably are." Uncle's reply was late. He wasn't wearing his crown nor his armor. He wasn't really dressed as a king. There were no robes or ornate jewels. He was wearing one of his old tunics and trousers that he was more likely to wear when he traveled then to hosting banquets and guesting nobility.

Uncle's arms were crossed, and his gaze was towards the forest in front of them.

That could be shielding the Dalish, Oren felt the wiggling worry nibbling in his tummy. He was not the only one. He saw that Uncle's words had made the flag bearers go pale. They turned to one another, exchanging their own silent conversation, but neither attempted to speak up or flee.

A Dalish rider had earlier arrived in South Reach with the clan's instructions for a potential meeting between their sides.

That had angered the nobles, who cursed and scoffed at the demands and the audacity. There were several insults, and mutterings, but Uncle had been quiet throughout it. When the din of objection finally died down, Uncle had told the rider that he agreed without any attempt to argue or change them.

That had been the one thing that had united both the dalish elf and human nobility. They had all expected Uncle to act differently, but he didn't. He dismissed the meeting then and left, but not before instructing the Dalish rider's needs were seen to, before he went back to rejoin his clan with Uncle's answer.

Oren had asked Uncle why, but he only gave him a smile, but it wasn't of mirth but mystery. He made no further attempt to clarify his thoughts on the issue.

The Dalish wanted a small group not trusting humans and their lies. The Dalish envoy had been blunt in his explanation, and his face was marred with the same anger that Oren had seen on Aldous' face when describing the Dalish.

They hate each other, Oren didn't like that was the only thing they seemed to agree on.

"And if they ambush you?" Uncle Leonas had asked, unhappy and unsupportive of Uncle's acquiescence to the Dalish.

"They won't," That had been Uncle's response. He seemed certain that it would be fine. It was as if he already knew the outcome of this meeting.

Oren had been surprised when Uncle wanted him to come, but he didn't argue. He wanted to see more of these Dalish, and wasn't going to be afraid.

If Uncle's here, I'm safe. He told himself this again and again as they waited for the Dalish to arrive.

The words stilled in his mind when he thought he saw the bushes and trees in front of him moving. They've come alive! He thought in equal parts admiration and worry. The shadows shifted and moved and then Oren discovered it wasn't the trees or the greenery that was moving.

It was people. It was the Dalish!

Assembling in perfect cohesion, stepping out of the shades of the forest were two neat and tidy rows of Dalish elves. Oren thought they looked so formidable and stoic in their armor and gear that seconds ago had him fooled in how they had blended perfectly into their surroundings.

They were so beautiful, and fierce, fantastic and frightful, he watched them in quiet awe and apprehension as they came forward.

There were men and women. Each one of them, Oren noticed had their faces painted, the inks were different colored and designs. The swirls and sharp angles gave them an unnatural, almost an uneasy look. It hooded over their faces like shadows. Their large eyes were bright and alert and were flickering in various directions. And all of them were frowning. Some even had their hands on their own daggers and swords that looked and shaped so much differently than Oren had ever seen.

They were suspicious, Oren realized, they sensed deception, A trap. Even when none materialized before them, the Dalish still did not smile, and most kept their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

They outnumber us, he had counted more than a dozen Dalish, and those were just the ones that had stepped out of the forest. There were probably even more still hiding and just waiting.

Two of the elves in the center were carrying their own banners. The cloth was a bright red and at its center was the shape of a creature with a horned head.

It's a halla! That got Oren to look around eagerly in hopes one of them would appear, but his search only lasted a few seconds and ended in disappointment when none emerged.

Between the two banner carrying elves, an old woman walked forward. She had white hair that was braided, but some of it fell over and partially blocked her face. She like the others had her face painted. The ink was black and it stretched out to all parts of her face like a spider's web, forming an elegant, but confusing design with a meaning that Oren could only guess at.

She was dressed in robes similar to Wynne's, but the Dalish woman had more fur trimmings especially around the shoulders. The color was a deep green, stitched into the material a subtle pattern that could resemble the very forest she just stepped out of.

Oren was standing to Uncle's immediate left, and his eyes went back in forth between Uncle and this old woman, whom Oren suspected had to be the Dalish's leader.

Their Keeper! Remembering the title the Dalish bestowed upon the individual leaders of their clans.

A Keeper has magic. That truth was confirmed when Oren spotted the staff that was nestled on her back. The top of which was poking out over her shoulder.

It was the Grey Warden, Riordan, who was the first to speak. He stepped forward, and bowed his head to the Dalish woman. "Keeper Marethari," he greeted politely, "I'm sure your rider has already informed you, but I shall confirm it. Theron Mahariel lives and is now a member of our order."

Marethari's gaze that had been transfixed on Uncle slowly turned to the Warden. "Ma serannas," Her eyes had softened on Riordan, but they did not when she was back to looking at Uncle. "And you must be the new king, I've heard so much about."

"I am Edmund Cousland," He dipped his head, the motion surprised her, but she was quick to remove any traces of it. "I come as someone who's lost a lot, and you have my condolences for your fallen friend. This Tamlen sounded very kind and very brave. I pray he finds happiness and peace awaiting him in eternity."

Marethari studied Uncle for a heartbeat or more before she took his words with a nod. "Even before we found your allies wandering through the forest, I had heard of you, Edmund Cousland."

Oren felt her gaze suddenly on him and he instinctively stilled, while fighting the urge to turn his head away to avoid her intimidating gaze. Thankfully, she turned back to Uncle after only a glance.

"My clan had hoped to travel north and seek passage across the Waking Sea," Her mouth twisted, when she continued, "But your war has made any travel in the north fraught with peril and difficulty. Harbors are monitored or blockaded and many of your people are now caught with no place to go."

"That was never my intention," Uncle was polite in his response.

That seemed to amuse her. "I'd be very much surprised if my people were even considered as you wage this war." Her attention then moved to where Revas was standing. Her face clouded and it seemed to make the ink patterns darken, but she did not address him.

"It was our inability to travel north to take ship that sent us through the Brecilian Forest trying to avoid your soldiers and the darkspawn," She continued, "And it is there that Tamlen and Theron came upon those ruins." Her eyes looked sad, but not her face. "Even in human wars my people suffer."

Oren didn't think it was fair to blame Uncle for that. He didn't know! He wanted to defend him. Uncle didn't want those elves to die. Oren couldn't muster the courage to speak to the intimidating Keeper.

"You travel to Gwaren to take a ship?" Uncle eventually asked, after a few seconds of silence had fallen over them. He did not acknowledge or accept the keeper's words and accusations. He ignored them.

"We do," Her face was guarded, "Do you object?"

"I do not," Uncle quickly replied, "I can send a letter and a rider ahead of you to insure those in Gwaren do all that they can to help you on your way."

"I do not mean to be insulting when I say, that is unexpected."

"I understand, but what I'm about to say shouldn't be," Oren saw Uncle's lips twitch into what almost looked like a smile. "I'd ask for you and your clan to stay and help in our fight against the darkspawn."

"You make it sound like such a simple thing," She remarked lightly, but her eyes were hard.

"The Dalish are obliged to help the Grey Wardens," Riordan pointed out gently.

"Much has changed in this world since my people made those treaties, Warden," The Dalish Keeper turned to him. "We were a nation then, strong and proud, and free." Her lips pursed together. "Now look what is left of that legacy, of my people." She gestured to those that stood still behind her. "We roam this world. We have no home. We have no borders. Your people chase us away because they are mistrustful. They fight us when they're bored. They hate us because we will not conform."

"And if you help us," Uncle countered, "That will give you good will. The people will not chase you, but welcome you. They will not curse you, but thank you."

"Humans have a short memory," the Keeper's hand made a cutting motion. "We fought alongside your Prophet, and it is true we were given land for our help, but it did not last that peace nor our kingdom."

"We can do better," Uncle promised.

She gave him a sad smile. "And those who come after you?"

Uncle frowned. "If you are to judge me solely on the actions of those who came before me or those that may come after me, then why are we here? You hold me to an impossible standard." He took a step forward towards her, earning an instant reaction from her people, who bristled. The hissing sound of steel being withdrawn followed, but their Keeper held up her hand to stop them. Her eyes remained on Uncle, but her silent order was obeyed.

"We need each other," Uncle told her, "We can help each other."

"How?" Marethari did not hide her interest in her tone.

"I will give you land, rights, status, laws," He went on, "Whatever your people need to show you that I'm honest in my purpose in fostering a new and better relationship between the Kingdom of Ferelden and the Dalish people."

"You are not the king of Ferelden," she pointed out, "You are one of many."

Oren could feel his fingers twitch, so he curled them into his palm. He did not want to look over to see the angry and armed Dalish warriors. So he kept his eyes firmly on Uncle. His mouth was pursed, but his stance was loose.

"You speak truly, Keeper Marethari," Uncle admitted, "However, my goal was never to secure myself a crown, but to secure my people's future." He dispelled a breath. "If it needs to include your people to see it done then I will do it without hesitation."

She moved forward and only stopped when she was within arm's reach of Uncle. Her eyes searching his. "There's truth in your face. A rare thing in a human." She then turned to Riordan.

"There are other Dalish clans that stalk the Brecilian Forest to avoid your war and the darkspawn. My guides will help you find them." Her eyes moved back to Uncle once Riordan bowed his head to her. "And then we shall consider the merits of this alliance between our people and Ferelden."

A/N: The Sabrae clan making an appearance shouldn't be too surprising. It was hinted at in an earlier Edmund chapter.

If it isn't obvious by now then just another reminder that the storyline/game mechanics are not strictly followed in this AU.

I was wondering if you guys would be interested with a chapter being released that is solely a 'recap/appendix' of all the characters, events, and timeline of this story? I know this is a large cast and a big story, and thought maybe compiling it all in one chapter for you guys to go back to instead of rereading parts of the story would help.

This is the part where I ask you to please leave a review. Why? Because it would mean a lot to me. Thank you.

This is the last update for 2019. I hope you all have a safe and happy holidays and see ya next year.

-Spectre4hire