So it had come to this.
A frantic muster of men—humans, elves, dwarves, mages. A confusing army of people, something almost akin to the stories Aedan had grown up on. It was quite an impressive feat, an unbelievable one. Aedan had oftentimes caught himself still months in the past—one day he would wake up and remember that yes, they had managed to gather the support of the elves, or the Circle, or the dwarves. They had won the Landsmeet. He had won the Landsmeet in such a landslide it was a wonder it had ever been a concern.
Many nights leading them to Denerim had been spent sleepless, either from nightmares of darkspawn or fears of what could've happened. He feared Howe sending another assassin after them, one that might've been more successful than Zevran—both times he tried to kill them. He feared Loghain doing something similar, but then, it hadn't been a very pressing fear, had it?
That same man was seated across from him now. Wrinkles adorned an aged face and his hair hung loosely over his cheeks. He almost appeared gaunt, but Aedan knew better. He had been the one to take Loghain's beating at the Landsmeet. He had been the one staring down the older man's sword. And for someone who had spent their younger years using a bow and arrow, Loghain sure did know how to handle a sword.
Sometimes Aedan forgot he spared the man. Sometimes he even wondered why he had. It had done nothing but cause him trouble with the two people he cared about most—Elissa and Alistair.
It had been necessary. Anora hadn't exactly demanded it in their discussions, but she implied it, and Aedan knew that tone she used. It was that of a woman used to getting what she wanted. And he didn't think that was a bad thing or think any less of her for it; Aedan was well aware Anora had been the spine in her relationship with Cailan. He was plenty aware she was the one ruling Ferelden.
He was also plenty aware that while she had been "pleased" with his suggestion, she would try her hardest to keep that position. They had been friends as children and Aedan had had an infatuation for her growing up, and on top of it all, he would legitimize her claim to the throne. Anora had far less of one than even he did, and she was the queen.
With Alistair around, neither of them technically had a real claim, bastard or not, but Aedan was a popular man amongst the nobility and in his father's teyrnir. That would likely be enough to sate the Landsmeet, so she hadn't argued. Anora didn't seem excited at the idea of marrying so soon, but she had agreed, and part of Aedan felt like it was necessary to keep her in check.
In check for what, though, he didn't know.
Rumors had circulated through Denerim over the last year or so. Cailan had been rather vocal about his desire for an alliance with Orlais and several people Aedan spoke to claimed he was preparing to cast Anora aside for Empress Celene. Such a thing would've been a huge scandal—how could anyone cast aside the daughter of Teyrn Loghain?
Easily. She had yet to bear him any children, and that was an unfortunate requirement of being queen. Aedan wondered if it was from lack of trying or a legitimate problem they could run into. Alistair had once told him it was nearly impossible for Wardens to have their own children. If Anora wasn't fertile, Ferelden could run into the same problem it was having now. No "legitimate" heirs.
All of this thinking made Aedan's head hurt. This wasn't even something he wanted or needed to worry about right now. To worry about heirs, he would have to marry Anora. To marry Anora, he had to survive their engagement with the Archdemon.
To do anything, he would have to survive.
Aedan was determined. They'd already killed one dragon. That was more experience than anyone else here had, and that was far more experience than most Wardens ever had, and killing dragons was part of their job. Had it been difficult? Yes. Had he almost died? Yes. Had his friends almost died? Yes. Had it been terrifying?
Absolutely.
But he'd done it once. He could do it again. With his companions at his side, Aedan felt invincible. Alistair, his brother in arms, and now suddenly keeping him at arm's length for a betrayal Aedan understood all too well. Morrigan, a witch forced into this journey by the very same mother she had sought to kill—there had been no opportunity to do so. Aedan understood her fear of her mother consuming her, or whatever it had been, but there had simply been no time.
Leliana, a woman he'd cringed at far too many times to count. Be it tales from her past in Orlais or the way his sister looked at her, the bard-turned-sister had a knack for making Aedan's skin crawl. Sten, a quiet but surprisingly soft man, who wanted nothing and yet desired his sword so he could go home. Zevran, an assassin Aedan had foolishly believed he'd gotten along with. He hadn't been surprised at the elf's betrayal, but it stung nonetheless.
Wynne, a mage they found defending the last of the Circle singlehandedly. She was fond of the tough-love thing, but she gave Aedan his space if she upset him, and he could respect that. In a way, she helped to fill the void of his own mother, and he would be eternally grateful.
Then there was Oghren, some drunk dwarf he really didn't have the chance to get to know, but liked regardless. He was comedic relief at worst and hilarious at best, but the man was a vicious fighter, and he'd saved Aedan's life more times than he could count in the short time they'd known each other.
Loghain, even, for the even shorter time he'd been with them. Aedan appreciated him quietly. Aside from a vague threat to treat his daughter right, few words had actually been spoken between them. He seemed content to leave it that way; he was much older than the majority of them, save Wynne, perhaps.
And then there was his sister, Elissa. She was a fan of even fewer words than Loghain, but she hadn't questioned him when it mattered. She was his right-hand man, for all intents and purposes, like Ser Gilmore had been for Fergus. He didn't understand why. She was resentful enough, and in his mind, Aedan should've represented all the things she hated their parents for denying her.
But she didn't. Elissa didn't hate him. At least, not before he spared Loghain. Now they spoke even less than they did before, and she appeared happy enough to sit with Leliana every waking second of everyday.
Aedan briefly wondered why she didn't hate him. Growing up, before she'd displayed her abilities, they had been inseparable. Everywhere he went, she went, and vice versa. She had been the favored child for nearly ten years—being the only daughter in a house of sons would do that, and it had been likely she would've been the child their father paraded around had she not been a mage. When they travelled, Elissa had always been introduced first as if she was Bryce's pride and joy. Aedan had had to work twice as hard as Elissa did for their parents to notice him.
And then she'd just...protected him, and it was like a complete flip. Overnight she went from the golden child to being smothered and hidden away. He could recall more than one occasion where various lords and ladies would arrive in Highever looking to marry their sons to her. He could recall travelling south without her, just himself, Fergus, and his father, and young men looking for her.
Eventually the interest faded. It became apparent that Bryce Cousland wasn't interested in marrying his daughter off for whatever reason, and people slowly forgot about her. A name he used to hear constantly in their adventures faded away to a passing thought during a dinner.
As a child, Aedan had been jealous of the attention she received, but he still loved her. They had been best friends.
As an adult, he just felt sorry for her. Sorry that he hadn't been able to do anything to really help her, sorry that he had been jealous, sorry that things worked out the way they did. Once, shortly after the incident, Aedan had asked why she hadn't been sent away to the Circle, and his mother told him that family protected family. She could never bear to watch her only daughter taken away, and Bryce hadn't wanted to, either.
They had the power and the coin to keep Elissa hidden from the templars, so they did, but in turn, they pushed her away.
Aedan wished things were different between them. Their childhood had been wonderful—the Cousland twins, the same dusty hair, same green eyes, same sense of humor and same troublemaking tendencies. It was like the Maker Himself had decided their parents needed two of the exact same child, one of each gender.
Their bond hadn't broken through any of that. Elissa still loved him dearly and him her, but it pained him to watch the distance grow between their family. Suddenly he was getting into trouble by himself while Fergus shook his head and frowned upon him. Then he was just getting into trouble with no real consequence as Fergus became interested in women and a family, and then he was truly alone.
It had been everything he could do to impress his father. Fergus wasn't people-oriented enough to lead, and Elissa couldn't because she was a mage, so it fell to him. It was his job to take after their father. It was his duty, and it had pushed a wedge between them, no matter how hard either fought, but their bond remained strong.
This, though, sparing Loghain...it looked like it had shattered that. Elissa didn't seek him out, even to just sit silently in contemplation. He hadn't truly seen her since they left Denerim. All of her time was spent with Leliana and Alistair, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that there was something between the two women. Whether or not Alistair was part of it, or was just there because it was the we-hate-Loghain party, Aedan didn't know. He doubted it as Alistair was too...Alistair for the three of them to be together, but he still wondered.
It was good, he supposed. It was good to see Elissa happy with someone, even if it wasn't him, and even if it just pushed them further apart. It was good to see Leliana letting herself relax in a way he doubted he'd ever be privy to.
Aedan was glad they were happy. Even if it didn't involve him, it was relieving to see something positive happening in the world around them. It helped him remember that there was something worth fighting for. It reminded him that there were still people out there, untouched and unconcerned about this Blight, and Aedan intended to keep it that way.
This Blight would end here, in Ferelden, before there could be another catastrophe like the previous.
He was to become king, but Aedan was willing to die for those innocent people. He was willing to die for Alistair despite his increasing dislike. He was willing to die for Loghain and push his betrayal aside. He was willing to die for his sister.
It was his duty to protect, and Maker be damned, Aedan would carry it out.
She couldn't bear it any longer. She couldn't listen to Fergus' cries, couldn't watch a man she'd never seen do more than crack a smile have a complete breakdown like this. She couldn't.
So instead of doing what she knew was right and comforting him, Elissa fled.
Out of the great hall, out of the courtyard, out of the castle walls. She had to go. Where, she didn't know, but anywhere to avoid those wails.
Elissa couldn't imagine the pain Fergus felt. He'd shared his tale when they brought him inside—Fergus had been wounded while scouting the Wilds and had been rescued by a Chasind tribe. They'd fed and clothed him, kept him safe while he recovered his strength. It had been an astounding tale in and of itself. The Chasind were supposed to be barbarians.
But then he'd told them of the vast numbers of darkspawn they began to see. Vast hordes, hunting packs larger than they'd seen so far. He and the tribe had been lucky enough to flee north before it became inescapable, but not before seeing it. The Archdemon itself, flying north.
What was north in Ferelden, except for Denerim?
Messengers and ravens were sent immediately. The elves were already here, having arrived over the course of two days, but they were still waiting on many of the men from the Bannorn, the dwarves, and the mages. Their army was no army, not yet, and the clock was ticking.
They needed to leave. They needed to reach Denerim before the Archdemon and the horde, but they couldn't leave with only a fifth of their troops, and Elissa just couldn't listen to Fergus' heartbroken cries.
She couldn't tell him. Aedan had to. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that his wife and son were gone. His family. The family he'd built himself. She couldn't. She couldn't imagine how much it hurt to learn of their demise, to know if only he hadn't left, he might've been able to save them.
It hurt knowing she could've protected them if she'd been awake. It killed her to know Howe slaughtered them mercilessly, and took away the life of a child instead of hers. She would've died for Oren in a heartbeat. There would've been no hesitation. He'd never even held a sword, and Howe had the boy killed.
Elissa couldn't be there.
So she ran. Ran as fast and as far as her legs would carry her, ran until the firelight from the camps and keep couldn't be seen behind her. Ran until the only sounds were that of her own beating heart and her boots in the dirt. Ran until soft padding of her footsteps became crunching in that dead, pathetic dirt the darkspawn left in their wake, and then she fell to her knees.
Elissa looked up at the sky. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Sad tears, angry, frustrated, everything she could've possibly felt. She let out one, pathetic scream before falling forward and burying her head in her arms. She cried, cried for a family she never knew, cried for all the people she let die, cried for all the people she'd senselessly killed.
No matter how far she ran, Elissa wasn't going to escape those tears. She would hear Fergus' cries everyday for the rest of her life and she knew she would. It wasn't a sound she would ever want to hear again, but it would haunt her forever. It killed her to hear it, to know if anyone could have and should have prevented their deaths, it was her. This was her fault.
Her hands balled up into fists in the dirt. Elissa could feel that same insurmountable rage building up inside of her, that same fire that carried her to truly casting her first spell, that same blinding anger that would cast her aside in times of peril.
Elissa was scared to die. She didn't think she was ready. She didn't want to. She couldn't accept the fate her dream had laid out for her, but to prevent this? To prevent this pain Fergus was feeling, but for someone else?
She smelled smoke, and as she sat back to find the source, Elissa knew she wasn't scared anymore. She wasn't ready to die, but she was ready to atone for all the mistakes she'd made. She was ready to make up for the people she hadn't saved.
Somehow, Elissa had managed to set the dirt itself on fire. Just under the surface of the cracked earth, she could see small tendrils of flame spreading and dissipating all around her. No change was made; the ground and dirt looked exactly the same, it had just been on fire momentarily.
Elissa's chest heaved and she spread her fingers, flexing her hands. They looked so lame. They were just hands, but she could cause so much damage with these alone. Those people she'd let die? They would be alive right now if she could've casted one spell. Oren and Oriana? Elissa could've protected them. Her parents? Them too. She could've even healed her father.
Elissa yelled again, and as she slammed her hands back down, the ground itself shook.
