A/N: Thanks for the support.

War of the Laurels

By Spectre4hire

Denerim

Edmund:

Fergus.

He still feared this was an apparition. What else can it be?

His brother who he believed dead was now sitting in front of him. Even after they embraced and talked, Edmund was still expecting this to all fade away. Hours had passed since he was reunited with his brother, but he still waited in quiet dread fearing this could end any second.

Fergus laughed, and still he didn't disappear.

Edmund missed what was said or who said it, but it was clearly amusing given the reactions around the table of his brother, his wife, and his nephew. Oren was stuck to his father's side, still holding onto him with that same desperation that had lodged itself in Edmund's gut.

Anora squeezed his hand which had been resting on his lap seemingly aware of Edmund's obliviousness.

"I still can't believe it."

"I know," Fergus said sympathetically, "but I'm here." He then nudged him in the shoulder while wearing that cocky grin he always had when they were younger. "Your worst nightmare is back." He winked, belaying the grimness of his declaration.

"My worst nightmare is the one with the Orlesians and the," Edmund was feeling the smile on his lips, but upon seeing Oren he stopped himself and cleared his throat, "Never mind that." Anora and Fergus chuckled, while his nephew looked on confused, blissfully oblivious.

"I'm just glad you didn't correct me for not addressing you as Your Majesty," Fergus made it as dramatic as he could when he bowed his head.

"It's good to see that not even a crown upon my head will stop you from acting like an ass."

"We're royalty not mages," Anora added dryly.

"Indeed," Edmund agreed with a laugh.

Fergus's eyes twinkled unaffected by their teasing. "It suits you both." The mirth slowly drained from his expression. "They couldn't have picked better."

"Thank you," Edmund found his throat suddenly tight while various emotions and memories crashed over him.

Anora offered her brother in law a smile, still holding onto Edmund's hands. "I'm fortunate." She looked down at their entwined fingers.

"I am too," Fergus had gathered up his son in his arms in one sudden movement that had Oren giggling.

Edmund watched it with a smile. Happy to see his nephew preening at the fatherly adoration that he so richly deserved. "You should be careful with him, brother," he said, "That's the nobleman who made me a king."

Oren proudly beamed from where he was perched on his father's lap. "It's true, Papa."

Fergus leaned forward, putting his head on his son's shoulder. "Oren the kingmaker."

"Ferelden will be grateful for that choice for a long time," Anora said, her words and tone making the boy dip his head, a bit of red creeping into his cheeks.

"It's nothing," he murmured.

"It was everything, Oren," Edmund wouldn't let his nephew's flustering doubt downplay his importance.

"You helped me too, Uncle."

Orianna's dead body flickered across his view. Her tattered dress, lying in a pool of her own congealing blood, the sword pinned in her belly. Edmund's stomach lurched. The taste of bile began to creep up his throat. "Forgive me," He jerked his hand out of Anora's grip. "Excuse me," He didn't look back.

"Edmund!"

He heard his brother, but he still kept going.

"Howe's betrayed us!" Mother's eyes glowed in the candlelight with barely restrained fury.

"Mama," Oren was sobbing, half holding, half being carried by Sarim as their castle burned around them.

"Slow down!" Fergus was getting closer.

"We can't slow down, Edmund," Mother warned them, "Howe is hunting us. We must get out of here."

The corridor was stained with blood, bodies strewn before their feet. The stones were splattered red and black from the ashes of the fires that were raging through the castle like a river.

"I'm tired," Oren complained, "I can't run anymore."

"Edmund!" Fergus called him again.

"We must find your father, Edmund!" Mother's voice was pleading.

"Don't leave me, Uncle!" Oren's hand was tugging on his sleeve. "Is Papa safe?"

"This will not be our end," Even amidst this slaughter and chaos Mother was unwavering.

"What are we going to do, Uncle?" Oren hiccuped. "I'm scared."

Edmund stumbled. He was going to be sick. The past and present were entwining like rope to pull him in two directions. The blood was rushing through his head. A roaring confusion in his ears. Make it stop!

"Edmund?"

"WHAT?" Edmund spun around to face his brother. His anger rose in him like a growing tidal wave, but then in a blink he didn't know why he had it in the first place. "What?" He mumbled a second time. The anger crashing into nothingness leaving him confused and dizzy.

Fergus had stopped abruptly. His eyes widened at Edmund's outburst. "What's wrong?"

His legs felt like they were clapped in irons when he tried to take a step. It was only his brother's reflexes that stopped him from falling. "How can you look at me?" His voice hitched, the black dread burrowing itself deeper into his heart.

"What are you on about?" Fergus frowned, keeping his grip on Edmund's shoulder.

"I FAILED YOU!" The words were a storm once they slipped from his lips.

"Failed me? Is that what you think?" He was now gripping both of Edmund's shoulders to hold him up.

"It's what I know."

"You didn't fail me," Fergus then shook him as if knowing his words weren't sticking. "Listen to me," his grip tightened and his face scrunched with worry, "You saved my son."

"Mother, Father, Oriana," Edmund began to list all the ones he couldn't save. His vision blurred with unshed tears, "I-I-"

"Didn't fail them," Fergus finished, but a shadow passed over his face in silent mourning. The distraction was enough to loosen his hold on Edmund. "Did you know about Howe?"

"WHAT?" The question stung, making him reel, "Of course not!"

"Then you didn't fail me," He had a weary smile. "You didn't fail Mother or Father. You didn't fail Oriana." His eyes were briefly unfocused at her mention. "Oren lived, Oriana would've gladly given her life to save our son's. Just as I would." He said, "Mother and Father would too for us and for Oren."

The words washed over him in a wave, warm and soothing. He didn't fight its current. The warmth seeping into his skin banishing the icy pang that had rooted itself in his blood, melting it away. He dispelled a breath, dispersing whatever remnants of guilt and shame had still tried to linger. "Thank you." Edmund didn't know how much he needed to hear his brother's words until they were said.

Fergus' smile was small, but sincere. "Thank you," He said it back, "For protecting him, for fighting for him when I couldn't."

The brothers embraced. The nightmare of Highever was put behind them while their chance to get justice for their family was waiting for them in Denerim.

Kylon:

Edmund Cousland was not ten feet tall.

Kylon finally got his first good look at the fabled Fereldan. Traitor, savior, hero, monster, he had heard them all over the months as the civil war raged across the country. Now I can finally put a face to the legend.

He may not have been ten feet tall, but he still cut an intimidating presence. All of the fighting had given him a warrior's physique, but he saw strain in his features. His face was thin and sharp. Gaunt, he settled on the word that best described the approaching king. It was a look he was used to seeing in others, but not in the nobility. They always had access to the best food and medicine to keep hearty, but neither he nor his wife had the typical rosy hue or robust condition of their fellow nobility. They were dressed sharply, but their attire couldn't mask the exhaustion Kylon could see plainly in their expressions despite their efforts to hide it.

It was the jangling of chains that made Kylon stop in his observations of the new King and Queen of Ferelden. His hand tightened his hold on Howe who stood in front of him, glowering and still.

"Your Majesties," He presented them to the prisoner. If King Cousland did shoot lightning bolts from his eyes, Kylon would expect it now. Recalling one of the more fanatical stories that had drifted into Denerim, but seeing how he was looking towards Howe… If glares could burn Howe would be a pile of ash.

The thump was loud and sudden. Howe's chains rattled noisily as he swayed in place. The prisoner grunting from the impact of Cousland's fist into Howe's face. Kylon felt the reverberation of the hit climb up his arm from where he was still holding onto the prisoner. A second one followed, below the chin that shot Howe's head up like a cork, saliva and blood burst from his mouth. The third was a punch into Howe's abdomen that brought the man gasping for air, hunched over.

Kylon could see King Cousland's eyes with Howe bent, and they burned with hatred. The anger in his eyes was a living thing. It was fearsome enough to make him take a step back and relinquish his grip on the prisoner.

The hall was filled with Edmund Cousland's curses and Rendon Howe's pain as the King landed punch after punch onto the man. The sound of fists hitting flesh, the prisoner's chains jangling, Howe's wheezing and grunts. Soon Howe was on his knees, but Edmund wasn't satisfied, kicking him in the head with a shout. His armored boot splitting Howe's face, and breaking his nose, the former Arl of Denerim collapsed into a heap, but he didn't cry. He didn't beg.

It was like watching a storm rage. It's terrible wrath unleashed upon all in its path, its waves rising and crashing with tremendous force without mercy and without thought. It was pure force. It was unstoppable, one couldn't fight it, one could only try to endure or escape it. But there's no escape for Howe, Kylon thought grimly of the prisoner responsible for so much death and violence. The man who made his life miserable since he became the Arl of Denerim, who had killed and enslaved the innocent, fleeced them, threatened them. His crimes were many, a long list of black deeds that Howe had turned into steps that allowed him to climb to the top as the most powerful man of Ferelden. His fall was swift.

"Edmund," The Queen's voice was soft, but it cut through Howe's beating. There wasn't a reprimand in her tone. It was a question reaching out to her husband, holding out a hand for him to take.

The King of Ferelden gave a sharp kick to Howe's abdomen that nearly flipped the prisoner onto his back, collapsing onto his side instead.

"Little Cousland all grown up," Howe's taunt was made into a groan, but what it lacked in strength it made up for in viciousness. "Mommy and Daddy must be so proud," the prisoner sneered.

"BASTARD!" Edmund roared with a ferocity that would've made a mabari whimper, lunging at the man, punching and kicking whatever his fists or feet could hit. A tumbling assault that sent the back of Howe's head into the stone floor, but the man only laughed.

Winded, and wounded, he tried to push himself up to face them. His face was a bloody mess, his nose a crushed ruin. He spat out a glob of blood. His smile was red, broken teeth poking through from swollen lips. "I-I made your mother kiss my boots, boy." His laughter turned into a wince, and then a hiss, but the triumph gleamed in his eyes even as dark bruises were mottling along his face. "B-begging for her life," He spat out blood and shards of teeth which clattered against the stone floor.

"Enough," The Queen's voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. Her footsteps were light wearing slippers instead of boots. The hem of her dress touched the congealing blood on the floor, brushing through it, while her eyes remained on the prisoner. "You've won nothing, Howe," Her words hit him in a way that Cousland's fists couldn't. "You've lost everything. Your name will be a curse. In a war against darkspawn, you are the most reviled enemy this country knows." That was when she slapped him, a loud SMACK that echoed across the hall, causing his head to give a violent twist, with a red print blooming on his cheek in the shape of her hand.

"Your little taunts are but harmless screws. You will receive the full weight of Fereldan's justice and Cousland vengeance." She turned to a pair of guards, "Put him in his new chambers," There was a glint in her eyes at those instructions, "And inform Lord Fergus that his guest will be ready to receive him." The orders left behind a chilling wake that sent the temperature in the room plummeting.

The guards' salutes were crisp as they quickly scurried over to where Howe was sprawled out on the floor, a pathetic mess of blood and bruises. He glowered and grumbled, as the guards roughly seized him by the collar and dragged him from the room like a mad dog who was being taken out back.

It was a long moment before Kylon turned in the monarchs' direction. He regretted intruding on it, but with their arrival in the capital, there was much for them to do and know. "Your Majesties," He respectfully broached their muted conversation. They turned to him, and thankfully neither looked perturbed by his interruption. "There is another matter that I believe you need to know." He inclined his head in the direction of a door that led to small council chambers. That was where he had placed the evidence.

This was Slim's plan. When Kylon was arranged to be the one to present Howe to the new King and Queen of Ferelden, Slim gathered important information that he needed him to pass onto the monarchs. He's counting on me, he reminded himself, They all are.

"Of course," Edmund's smile was strained, but he and the Queen followed Kylon to the room with their guards following after them.

"This is no easy thing," he wanted to brace them for the ugly truth he was about to give them. He went to the table where he had left the letters and the shield. It was the latter he picked up and showed to them first.

"That standard," Edmund frowned, "That's the Imperial Chantry seal." He took the proffered shield.

"It is, Your Majesty," Kylon went to retrieve one of the documents. "It was found in the Alienage."

"The Alienage?" Disbelief lilted the Queen's tone. "Denerim's Alienage?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," He picked up the contract. The same one we found all those months ago. It was a damning piece of evidence and Kylon wasn't sure how the Queen would react to it. "They were slavers," He passed it to her, "They came to the capital. They stole elves and shipped them off to the Imperium's slave markets."

"Slavers?" The King's face darkened, "In Ferelden?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kylon expected that he'd need to repeat himself a few times when delivering such shocking and appalling news. "I was there when they were brought down."

"Then this country owes you a great service," Edmund said solemnly, "Ser-"

"It's Sgt Robert Kylon, Your Majesty," Instinctively straightening up at his introduction.

"Sgt Kylon," Edmund nodded at the name. "I want you to tell me everything." He put the shield back on the table. His face marred with disgust at what it represented.

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Kylon obeyed, but he never got a chance to start with his report.

"Impossible," The Queen had been absorbed in the documents. She breathed out that single word in such utter disbelief that it pulled her out of her own reflections. She took the nearest seat. She was holding the vellum in trembling hands.

"What?" The King went to his wife. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders while trying to peer down at what it was she was reading.

"M-my f-father," she said shakily, "My father approved," She shook the contract in her hand, her fingers beginning to dig into the vellum causing it to crinkle in her grip. "Approved of slavery." She turned away from it as if the inky writ scalded her. "It wasn't Howe. It was my father."

Kylon was mindfully quiet. He watched the disbelief spread across Edmund Cousland's expression while he read the contract for himself.

"My father truly was lost," The Queen's eyes were glistening. "He betrayed everything he believed in." Her fingers and her voice were quivering.

The King's hands were comforting her, soothing her back and shoulders. "A terrible injustice was done to our people," He finally said, "It is our duty to make amends."

"It is," Anora's voice hadn't fully recovered. The betrayal struck deep. "I failed my people who lived in this very city," She shook her head, guilt clung to her words as tight and sharp as a predator's claws to its captured prey.

"Who patrols the alienage, Sgt Kylon?"

"The city guard, Your Majesty," Kylon answered his king, "we failed them as well." He wouldn't shy away from the blame.

"But you were there when you needed them and I wasn't."

Kylon tried not to squirm at the Queen's observation. He wasn't seeking praise. "They need you now, Your Majesty."

She nodded, "They do."

"Are there any elves in the city guard?"

"Your Majesty?" Kylon tried not to gape at the king's question. Elves weren't allowed to be armed. That was the law. It was true that never stopped Slim or his associates including Kallian, but he turned a blind eye towards them because they were helping Denerim.

"We'll recruit elves," Edmund didn't seem to mind Kylon''s reaction. "We'll make up a contingent of guards that are elves who solely patrol the Alienage." He looked down at his wife who gave it her approval with a nod. "We'll still keep an eye on them, corruption has no limits, but we'll have a reliable captain of the guard to ensure that Howe's practices will no longer be tolerated."

"As you say, Your Majesty," Kylon said respectfully, though he didn't hold out any hope. He imagined they'd bring in some minor noble or a second or third son of a powerful family and put them in charge of the guard. That was the way it was.

"Actually, Sergeant," Edmund Cousland replied, "It's what you say."

"Pardon?" He didn't understand. He turned to the King and Queen who were watching him.

"Do you accept?" Queen Anora's mouth curved upwards, "To be the new captain?"

"The captain of the guard?" He repeated, biting down the instinct to let out a dismissive laugh thinking this some sort of jape, "Me?"

"Yes," Edmund Cousland almost looked amused at Kylon's dithering.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kylon stood straight, feeling the pride well inside him. His lips fighting a smile, "I would be honored, Your Majesties," He bowed to them, "Thank you."

"Thank you, Captain. We will need men like you to undo all that has been done to this city," she said, "What I allowed to happen in this city," She bowed her head, "That is why I believe it will also be wise that we make sure the elves' have a voice that can not be silenced."

"Anora?" Edmund looked down at his wife from where he was standing, intrigued by her words.

"A bann," She proposed, "someone who can speak up for their people."

Edmund slowly smiled, "I think that is a great idea."

A bann for the Alienage, Kylon couldn't believe what he was hearing. Wait until I tell Slim this. He was certain that he'd finally have news that would surprise his friend.

"To Captain Robert Kylon!"

The toast received a very loud and hearty cheer from all within the room. Goblets clanged against one another and everyone in Slim's private rooms at the Gnawed Noble Tavern drank in his honor.

He kept his attention on his glass. Slim's been holding out on me, he thought of the sweet and delicious vintage he was currently drinking. He took another long sip savoring the taste. After he had been dismissed by the King and Queen, he went straight to the tavern wanting to inform Slim on everything that had happened. He wouldn't forget Slim's expression when Kylon told him about a Bann being made for the city's alienage. Is this how Slim feels when he knows the secrets?

Kylon relished the feeling and Slim's reaction upon learning it. His friend's eyes had gone misty. Visibly moved at these changes that were bound to improve their lives. They would have a new elven guard watching the Alienage and a voice to represent them that would report directly to the King and Queen. It was so much good news it was easy to forget about the darkspawn that were still terrorizing the country which left so much uncertainty for all of their futures.

"Captain Robert Kylon," Slim said the words slowly, seemingly enjoying them as much as the ale. He was drinking out of a very large tankard that looked big enough to make a qunari tipsy. "Well deserved!" He clapped Kylon on the back.

He nearly spilled his drink at his friend's very enthusiastic pat. "I got it because of you."

Slim chuckled. "If you believe that then you're a fool." His breath stank of ale, but his eyes remained focused and there was no slurring in his speech. "I wasn't in there planting those ideas in their heads." He tapped his own head while he spoke. "It was your deeds, my friend, not my words that made your promotion happen."

Kylon didn't know how to respond to that so he drank instead, finishing his goblet much to his disappointment.

His friend could clearly read his mind. "We need more for the new captain of the City guard!"

That brought up another round of cheers and clapping as a smiling waitress came over to fill up his glass. Kylon thanked her when she left. "So am I speaking to the new Bann of the Denerim Alienage?"

"HA!" Slim laughed, "You should know me better than that. I have no need for that sort of light on me."

"I thought you wanted to become respectable."

Slim snorted. "Not when there's still so much I can do in the shadows."

Kylon didn't argue. His friend's list of accomplishments for not just the city elves, but all of Fereldans was an impressive list and one that he kept adding to. "Do you want to bet on who the next Bann will be?"

"I wouldn't feel right," Slim declined, "Stealing from the captain of the guard." He laughed before slamming his much larger tankard against Kylon's nearly causing the drinks to slosh out.

Kylon chuckled and drank. He was about to add something when he noticed Kallian was looking his way. It wasn't a long look before she turned and left. But the look itself spoke louder to him then any of the rambunctious cheers and toasts that he had received that night.

Feeling emboldened, he drained the rest of his glass and set it down. "If you'll excuse me," He ignored Slim's chuckling. No one else would notice Robert Kylon leaving his own celebration to follow her.

Alfstanna:

The Royal Palace was brimming with warriors, envoys, nobility, elves, dwarves, mages. All had gathered to the estate when summoned by the new King and Queen of Ferelden.

I left Amaranthine and arrived at Denerim to find so many things had changed during her travels. Edmund and Anora had married to seal their alliance. Bann Sighard was dead after failing to kill Edmund, an attack that nearly succeeded. Rendon Howe, the man they were tasked to bring down when they left Amaranthine, was already in custody when she and Nathaniel arrived at the capital.

The table in the palace's meeting chambers was large, able to host more than three dozen guests at a time and still have comfortable space for the visitors. She wished for that space now, nearly having her foot stamped on by her neighbor to her other side. Elbows jostling with one another, hands scurrying across the table to try to point out spots in the maps or the piles of reports of the scattered missives spread the length of the table.

The Fereldans argued, the dwarves watched, and the Dalish looked bored.

Sitting calmly in this frenzied storm at the end of the table was Edmund and Anora Cousland. She didn't envy them. Amaranthine had been a challenge enough for her and her counsel, but all this… No, thank you. They could've taken seats closer to the King and Queen, but neither she nor Nathaniel pressed for that honor. She was pleased to be in the background, believing it could be of better use especially in getting the pulse of those who surrounded them. At this distance so far from the King and Queen, tongues would be looser and masks could slip.

"Something must be done!" Teagan was straining to get his voice heard over the ruckus. He was serving as an envoy for his brother which had granted him a seat closer to Anora and Edmund. "If this report is true then we must send help!"

She wasn't surprised by Teagan's words stirring up a hornet's nest. He was citing Grey Warden Riordan, who believed that the Archdemon and its horde of darkspawn were making their way towards Redcliffe. Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple, because the Grey Wardens were divided by this information, some backed Riordan while others such as Wardens Clarel and the Warden Commander of Orlais Fontaine didn't. They wanted more time to scout the land before making any judgment.

"Something is being done, Bann Teagan," Arl Bryland showed little sympathy in Teagan's demands.

"Eamon has armies," a voice grumbled further down the table. Alfstanna couldn't spot the source. "Your brother didn't spare a single soldier to help us." The voice was terse, but honest and received a smattering of support. "He has the forces to repel this darkspawn."

Teagan pursed his lips. "You will condemn my people because of my brother's missteps."

Missteps received a few derisive snorts and murmuring. No one at the table had forgotten Eamon's stinginess when it came to his forces. The Arl of Redcliffe refused to send any support to anyone who hadn't first confirmed Warden Alistair as the next King of Ferelden. That plan had aged poorly, backfiring on the Arl since it was Edmund and Anora who were given the crowns of Ferelden, not Eamon's candidate.

"No one has said that, Teagan," The Queen was trying valiantly to inject calmness in these turbulent talks. "We must get our bearings so that we can support not just your brother but all of our struggling people across the country."

Choppy waters, she thought, were an apt way to describe Fereldan's current struggles. It made her think of the storms that plagued the seas by her family's seat. There might be a storm in Redcliffe, but if they weren't ready anywhere else then they risked losing a lot more. Patience was a difficult word to accept in the face of annihilation.

"Arl Eamon isn't alone," Warden Alistair was standing on Teagan's other side. His resemblance to his deceased brother was strong even garbed in the colors and trappings of his order. He seemed truly dedicated to the Wardens since it was rumored he refused to even consider attempting to take the throne. "The town is well fortified," He went on, having just been to Redcliffe along. "Queen Valda's forces were nearing the castle when we left."

"The strength of Orzammar can help to shield your people from the darkspawn," A dwarf by the name of Mainar spoke up, proudly hitting his closed fist against the table. A chorus of cheers followed his proud declaration from the assembled dwarfs. "We're used to fighting and killing darkspawn."

"Experience we value, Ser Mainar," it was the king who was now speaking, "But we do not intend on letting our allies face these threats alone." A ripple of grumbling rose with Edmund's words, but despite any growing resentment at this sentiment no one was foolish enough to put their face to their disapproval.

"However, we cannot overlook our own city's defenses," Edmund must have sensed some of his audience's displeasure, "New ballistas are being built and placed along the city walls and on some of its tallest towers and castles under Grey Warden supervision to better prepare if the archdemon appears." Warden Commander Fontaine gave a firm nod with this news, "A detachment of forces will be sent to Redcliffe to help the Arling." His gaze swept across the table, a silent stare that stymied the seeds of protesting, "Bann Teagan, you will lead it. The Fereldan Grey Wardens will accompany you but will be following the guidance of Commander Fontaine."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Teagan bowed in their direction..

Edmund and Anora rose from their seats, causing all within attendance to rise as well. The two left their counselors and allies behind without another glance, exiting the room with a handful of guards following them out.

Pockets of conversations, arguing, and planning bloomed as soon as the monarchs were gone. Mages were talking to dwarves, Wardens talking to elves, nobles who were against each other in the civil war were now in deep conversations about syncing supplies and their forces. Those who opposed the King and Queen's decision looked no different than those who were eagerly following them. Their disapproval masked behind a veneer of fealty.

"Alfie," Nathaniel's voice was low, tickling her ear.

"Yes?" She turned to him.

"I want to show you something," There was an earnestness in his gaze that made her swallow the clever jape she wanted to say instead she nodded. She didn't protest when he took her hand in his and led her away from all the squabbling and scheming.

"Where are we?"

Alfstanna found herself standing outside a hovel, sitting off one of the entangled streets of Denerim. It had not been a long walk, but seeing this decrepit building after being in the Royal Palace was jarring. Looking over her shoulder she could still see the Palace poking out over rows of buildings, a shimmering pearl amidst a brown heap.

Nathaniel answered her by tugging on her hand to take her inside.

The inside of the hovel was not what she was expecting. She imagined rotting floorboards, cobwebs, layers of dirt and dust, piles of broken furniture. Inside the floors were all silk carpeting. The carpets were a woven of colors with fabrics and costly dyes that sprawled out beneath her feet in beautiful designs. The candles were lit in gilded chandeliers or crafted holders. The walls that were bare were clean and scrubbed while other portions were covered by heavy tapestries or colorful paintings.

"What is this place?" She looked around, amazed at how starkly different the inside of this home was to its outside. She felt like she had just walked into a nobleman's estate and not hovel within a cluster of grimy, run down buildings.

"A safe place," Nathaniel answered, "This way," He walked down a narrow carpeted hallway to an open doorway.

Alfstanna's question died on her lips when she heard it. It was the sound of a baby gurgling, confused, she walked past a smiling Nathaniel to find herself in bedroom chambers. The four poster bed was well built, its yellow and white curtains pulled back, tucked in the corner was a cradle. There was a fire in the hearth that brought the main light to this small, but luxurious lodgings. Her eyes went around the empty furniture to a pair of cushioned chairs by the fire, recognizing one of the figures by memory. "Deliah?"

Nathaniel's sister smiled. She was draped in black, but her eyes moved from Alfstanna back to the bundle in her arms.

"This is Padric," Nathaniel had moved to stand behind his sister, "He's my brother."

"Your what?" Alfstanna thought she misheard him. She assumed it was his nephew since Deliah was the one holding the babe, but when she stepped closer she found herself being stared at by dark, wary eyes. The other occupant was a handsome woman with a dusky complexion. She was wearing a beautiful, but simple blue dress. There were flecks of gold in her hair from a bejeweled hairnet and a ruby pendant adorned her throat.

"He is my son," The lady said proudly, her voice carrying an exotic lilt that Alfstanna couldn't place. "I'm Lady Sophie of Rivain," she introduced herself, dipping her head in her direction.

"Well met," Alfstanna politely replied, still uncertain of what was going on. She wracked her mind trying to find a polite way to ask if this woman was Rendon Howe's mistress, but the woman's throaty laugh stemmed her thoughts.

Lady Sophie's eyes seemed catlike. Dark as opal and alert of any movement. "I had the misfortune of taking the previous Arl of Denerim to my bed," she said blithely, giving an elegant shrug, "We must all make sacrifices in the name of duty," Her eyes were warm while she looked at the babe in Deliah's arms. "Mine was with Howe to better my country's cause, but I received the greater prize with my son."

Alfstanna's eyes went from Lady Sophie to the babe introduced as Padric Howe.

"When she found out she was pregnant she went into hiding," Nathaniel picked up where she left off. "I didn't know about her until she wrote to me when we arrived in the city."

"I was not sure of how you would handle such news," Lady Sophie observed delicately, but her smile showed her relief and pleasure that her suspicions had been proven wrong.

Nathaniel was gently running one of his fingers along the babe's dark curls. "Padric will want for nothing." He said, "And Lady Sophie was kind enough to accept our invitation to move into our family's estates."

"You were the ones kind enough to invite me," She corrected him, "And it is Sophie." She had a teasing glint that hinted this wasn't the first time she made that point.

"He's a handsome boy," Alfstanna had moved to get a closer look. The babe had the same dusky complexion of his mother, but she thought she saw Nathaniel's nose on the boy's face and the shape of his eyes.

"You are too kind, my lady," Sophie demurred at the compliments, but her expression betrayed her own pride in her son. "We are leaving in the morning."

Nathaniel looked up from his brother's sleeping face. "They'll be staying at Vigil's Keep for their safety. My sister too."

"My brother won't be joining us."

He didn't wince at his sister's blunt observation and disapproving tone. "I can't hide behind our family's walls after everything our father has done."

It was as if a dark cloud burst into existence into the room. It's black shadow casting itself over the siblings and Lady Sophie.

"Not to worry, Delilah," Alfstanna found herself saying, "I'll make sure Nathaniel comes back to his family." Her eyes were on his sister so she didn't see the impression her words had made across his face.

"Our," Delilah corrected lightly, a smirk playing on her lips, "I think you meant to say our family, Alfie." She was savoring her brother's reaction. "Right, Nate?"

"Del-" He was flummoxed from his sister's teasing before being interrupted.

"Shh," Delilah shushed him before, "Our brother is trying to rest."

Despite her flushed appearance, she didn't squirm at the playful insinuation. "My apologies, Delilah," She reached to take Nathaniel's hand which caused him to stop glowering at his sister, "We'll get back to our family."

A/N:

I'm not trying to amp up any angst, but I do think Fergus' reappearance would've dragged back some painful memories and thought it was important the brothers talked about it

Howe's fate will be in the next chapter. Also the Howe's don't lose their entire Arling to the Grey Wardens in this story. I always thought that was a bit much.

Lady Sophie is a character who is only referenced in the game from "The Absent Mistress" plot. I've fleshed her out to fit this story. She's Rivaini because she's a visiting noblewoman and the Rivain codex entry can be found in her chambers.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire