Chapter 42 Resolving Issues and the Landsmeet
It was almost twenty minutes before Tira stopped crying. Eventually, she pulled away and began wiping her face, her eyes red and puffy and her kohl smeared everywhere.
"I'm sorry, Blair," she said, her voice dry and raspy. She took a hold of her water skin, draining almost half of it to replenish the fluids she'd lost in her outburst.
Blair shook her head.
"Don't be. I doubt I would have handled the news any better. But don't be angry with my father. My… our mother never talked about her past much. She did want to find her — our — clan again. But travel requires money, and that's not easy to come by in the Alienage."
Tira nodded solemnly. Neither Blair nor Cyrion deserved her anger, and as for Adaia… now that she'd got the unreasonable grief and anger out of her system, she would hear out Cyrion before she decided.
"Here, I think you need this more than I do," Blair pulled a wine bottle from her pack and unwrapped the cloth she had covered it in to prevent it breaking. "I hooked it from those bastards. Actually, had a full wine rack in a slave den."
Tira took it and read the label.
"Aggregio Pavalli? Huh. I've heard of this stuff. Apparently, it's made from the blood and tears of Tevinter slaves. I rather hope that's a metaphor." She popped off the cork and took a long draw. Lowering the bottle and swallowing, Tira looked at the fairly plain label again. "I still prefer the blackberry honey wine Master Illen makes but the fact that this was stolen from people that arrogant makes it taste a bit better somehow."
Blair smirked.
"Vindictive! We'll make a proper city elf out of you yet, Dalish."
"Ugh, the Keeper would be so ashamed of me," Tira lamented, a bit of her old playfulness returning.
Blair chuckled. "Come on. Before your redheaded lover and her equally overprotective brother come looking for us."
[Linebreak]
It was well after nightfall when the pair of elves returned to Cyrion's home. They had been stopped a few times by guards who saw the increasingly drained bottle of Tevinter wine in Tira's hand, but the rampant Griffin emblazoned on their new dragon scale and bone armor kept the guards from detaining Tira and Blair. Apparently, Sergeant Kylon had spread word that it was not a wise idea to confront the Wardens. Blair remembered the guardsman shaking his head ruefully after they had torn threw the remaining White Falcon mercenaries during their last trip to Denerim.
"And people actually voluntarily attack you?" he'd said, disbelief in his tone. "Are they just stupid?"
The alienage was quiet when the pair returned. The bodies of the Tevinter mages were missing, likely disposed of by Zevran and Garik. Besides the remnants of the scuffle with the so-called healers, nothing else seemed out of place so it seemed unlikely that the guards had come through.
Blair led Tira up to the entrance of her father's home and opened the door. Gathered around the lone table was Erin, Cyrion, and Zevran with Garik and Tristan standing near the fire. From the look of it, Shianni and Soris had gone to bed. When the door opened, talking ceased. Erin stood up immediately upon seeing Tira and took a step forward. However, after the initial burst of unthinking action, hesitation and doubt swept over her expression.
Tira frowned, feeling a stab of guilt as she knew she was responsible for the hesitation. She'd retreated from Erin, even though she had nothing to do with what was going on. It was bitterly ironic that her last words to Erin before kissing her for the first time were a request for her to not run, and yet Tira had run from everyone, including Erin.
Swallowing her guilt for the moment, Tira strode around Blair and straight to Erin, pulling the significantly taller human into her arms. Erin immediately reciprocated, resting her chin on Tira's head.
"I'm sorry, ma vhenan. I was angry and I didn't want to lash out at you. But that is no excuse. I hurt you anyway."
Erin pulled back and lifted Tira's chin with a pair of fingers.
"I was afraid you didn't trust me, love," she said softly. Tira grimaced slightly and averted her gaze. The Dalish's renewed self-criticism was interrupted when her warrior lover lifted her chin a bit more and kissed her. Instinctively, Tira wrapped an arm around Erin's neck and pulled her deeper into the embrace. They stayed that way for some time, seemingly lost in their own world, until someone behind Erin cleared their throat. They broke apart, lips slightly swollen, and turned to face the noise. Cyrion was still sitting at the table, one grey eyebrow raised. The pair mumbled apologies and separated, though they kept their hands clasped together.
"Well, it seems the Alienage owes all of you a debt," Cyrion said, still watching the odd pair curiously. "After you released us, many of the caged decided to take the arms left behind by the Tevinters and, ironically, purged the Alienage of any who remained. While you were gone, Blair and Tira, your fellows also assisted a Templar in investigating some odd occurrences and apparently eliminated a powerful demon that had taken up residence in the old orphanage. Sadly, it seems the Templar lost his life in the battle."
Erin nodded a bit somberly.
"I may distrust most Templars, but Ser Otto was a good man."
"As uncharacteristic as it sounds," Tristan sighed with a shake of his head. "I agree. He didn't deserve that death."
Cyrion nodded. "We've seen his body back to the Chantry. A few Templars were under the mistaken impression that we had something to do with Ser Otto's death, but your dwarven companion put a stop to those accusations quite quickly."
Blair scowled slightly. Before traveling to the Circle and dealing with them there, Blair had grown up with a fairly neutral opinion of Templars. But the more she traveled and saw how Templars treated mages and any who interfered with their so-called holy role the more she resented them.
"But," Cyrion called their attention back, "I do believe I owe you an explanation. I first met Adaia when I was working on a farm near Gwaren. One day, while I was gathering firewood from some trees that had toppled over in the recent storm, I came upon a young woman, collapsed from exhaustion and delirious with starvation and fever. I'd never seen let alone met a Dalish, so her tattoos… pardon, vallaslin were jarring to say the least. I gathered her up and took her back to the one room cottage I lived in on the edge of the farm. When she finally regained consciousness, rather than being grateful as one would expect, she was furious. It took me the better part of the month to convince her not to kill herself while I was off working. After a while she grew strong enough to travel again, and wanted to return to her clan, but as she had no idea how long she had been unconscious and prior to that roaming the woods, she had no idea where they were. She said they had been planning on packing up and moving on when she left. So, I offered to let her stay with me while she waited for news that her clan was back in the region."
Tira grimaced. That explained a lot.
"After my father died, his First, Marethari decided to avoid that part of Fereldan for a while. We actually didn't start traveling around there again until my tenth year."
"And by then, we were in Denerim," Cyrion sighed. "About a year after Adaia arrived, the farm I worked on was set to be bought by another freeholder, and this one didn't want elves tilling his fields, so I took a cousin up on his offer of a job in Denerim. By this time, Adaia and I had grown close so she agreed to come with me. About six months after we arrived, Adaia agreed to marry me and a year after that, Blair was born. But, being in a large city gave us access to more news on the Dalish's movements, and Adaia was never truly happy here. She wanted to bring us, meaning Blair, Shianni Soris and myself back to her clan. But, as Blair has no doubt told you, traveling for elves is expensive, with the bribes needed to ensure we aren't falsely accused of thievery so it took a very long time to build up the money to even contemplate that long of a journey. We were nearing enough when…"
Cyrion sighed again.
"As Adaia was coming back to the alienage from a shopping trip to the market, she found a group of men trying to mug a young woman. Being who she was, Adaia stepped in and fought them off. She was injured slightly, but even that small wound proved fatal. I don't know how, but one of the thugs' knives was coated in Quiet Death."
Zevran hissed.
"That is a potent toxin. How in the world did common street thugs get their hands on such a thing?"
"I don't know," Cyrion shook his head.
"I do," Blair sighed. "Slim told me a few years ago. Apparently, there was an upstart faction in the thieves' Guild and they had a very skilled alchemist under their employ. As much as I wanted there to be a reason behind Mother's death, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Slim?" Zevran asked. "The man we met in the Market who had us… lighten a few noble pockets?"
Blair nodded.
"Slim Couldry. He's an old friend of my mother's and gave me some training in… well, less than honest tactics."
Cyrion grimaced but didn't mention it.
"The night before, Adaia and I had an argument because she hadn't told me everything. She said I wouldn't understand. And she was right. I don't understand why she never mentioned she had another daughter. She never even mentioned she was married previously."
"Perhaps she did not want to raise her own hopes," Zevran suggested, leaning against the wall. "For something she wanted to be so close, yet so far away, it may have been discouraging every time the window closed and you were all still here."
Cyrion scowled slightly, seemingly a bit irritated the young elf had a point.
"Perhaps. We still deserved to know."
"Oh, I do not deny that," Zevran nodded. "But sometimes, the truth hurts. And occasionally, it is kinder, if not to lie, then to say nothing."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Since when have feelings been your expertise?"
"I'll have you know I happen to be quite the sensitive individual, my magical friend," Zevran rebuked the mage with a small smirk.
"You almost sound like you believe that," Garik droned.
"You wound me."
"I'm sure," Garik rolled his eyes.
"Anyway," Cyrion sighed. "After Adaia's passing, I doubted we would be welcome in her clan without her, so I stopped listening for information about them and focused on our lives here. I thought occasionally about what Adaia refrained from telling us, but never for long. Now I wish I had."
"You wouldn't have been the first city elves to come to the clan. Not long before I left, we had a new face stumble upon the clan," Tira told him. "A young man, Pol, I think his name was."
Cyrion and Blair's eyes widened.
"Did this young man have short, reddish-blonde hair?" Blair asked. "A bit of a nervous disposition?"
Tira nodded. "Yes, he did. Junar, one of the hunters was teaching him to use a bow when I left. You know him?"
Blair glanced back to where Soris was sleeping.
"We do. He's one of Soris's childhood friends. We found out he'd left the day..." her expression became bitter once again. "The day of our weddings. Was Pol alone? As we understand it, he left with his brother."
"No one else was with him, to my knowledge and he didn't mention anyone else," Tira informed her.
Cyrion grimaced. "Well, it will at least do his mother some good to know at least one of her sons is safe."
Blair nodded. "Yes. But, I'm sorry, Papa, but we had better get back before our commander sends out a search party."
Erin rolled her eyes. "Aye, my dear brother is not well known for his patience."
"Before you depart, I have one question of my own," Cyrion stood. "Lady... Warden Cousland," he quickly corrected himself. "You were in Highever during Howe's invasion, yes?" Knowing who her family was, Cyrion took no offense to the cool glare the young woman sent him. "Do you know if a young woman named Iona survived the attack? As I understand it, she was Lady Landra's Lady-in-Waiting. Her daughter has been waiting for her to return."
"Amethyne is here?!" Erin's eyes shot open wide.
Cyrion's eyebrows shot up.
"How do you know Amethyne."
A wicked grin was shared between the newly realized sisters.
"Go on, ma vhenan" Tira pressed her now blushing lover. "Tell him how you know the little one."
Erin scratched the back of her neck.
"We've traveled with Iona a few times over the last year and she spoke quite frequently of her daughter."
"And why was she traveling with us?" Blair leaned in on the conversation.
"Well, I couldn't well leave her on the side of the road, now could I? It was my duty to protect those I could even if I was no longer in Caer Cousland."
"And what made this woman so important?" Zevran added, a roguish grin stealing over his lips. "You seem rather fond of her."
Erin glared vengefully at the trio of elvish rogues.
"The three of you will suffer dearly for this, I swear it. Fine. The night Highever was attacked, I invited Iona to my room for the night and she accepted. Afterwards, when she was almost killed by soldiers looking for me, it became my responsibility to ensure her safety."
Cyrion raised his brow, torn between amusement and mild disbelief as the young noblewoman, well, former noblewoman was continually teased by not just his daughter, but Erin's lover as well. It was hard to imagine most of the young people in his home were members of the legendary Grey Wardens. Though, legends had to start somewhere.
"Well," he said finally, interrupting the good-natured barbs. "If you do indeed know where to find Iona, her daughter has been rather stubbornly waiting for her near the south gate. She was originally staying with her father's second cousin, but when news reached us about Highever, she was rather abruptly shown the door."
Blair's brow furrowed.
"Would this second cousin happen to be Elva?"
Cyrion sighed and nodded. Blair's mutual animosity with Elva was well known. It had been inherited from Adaia and seemingly grew worse with each passing year.
"That bitch... I could throttle her... The south gate you said?"
"Yes, but I don't know how likely she will be to go with you without her mother present," Cyrion advised.
"It's worth trying," Erin rebuffed. "Iona would have my hide if I knew of her daughter in the situation, she's in and didn't try to retrieve her."
[Linebreak]
The air in the courtyard outside Cyrion's felt different. Erin frowned and turned to Blair and Zevran.
"Something feels wrong. If you two wouldn't mind, scout around. I don't trust this stillness."
"Nor do I," Zevran agreed, for once neglecting even playful flirting. He scaled a building as Blair faded into shadows.
Erin, Tira, Garik and Tristan continued towards the south gate, hands never straying far from their weapons. As they neared the square, a man stepped out from behind the Vhenadahl. He had closely cut black hair with stubble lining his jaw. Hanging off the belt of his studded leather armor was a dagger similar to the one Zevran wore.
"And here is the mighty Grey Warden, at long last. The Crows send their greetings once again," the assassin gave a mocking bow, before straightening up and clapping his hands twice. Five more assassins emerged from behind stalls, within alleyways and buildings around the alienage square along with two others on the roof of the abandoned orphanage.
"Taliesin, I presume?" Erin sneered, remembering Zevran and Blair reporting their work with the Crow handler Ignacio. Conrí had been very displeased when he learned the pair had been doing jobs without informing him, but as their actions had the potential to prevent future contracts on the Wardens, their punishment had been to take on the bulk of the chores at camp for a week and nothing worse. While their work prevented further contracts, it did not override any current contracts, and the previous job had been picked up by an assassin by the name of Taliesin after Zevran's failure.
"My reputation precedes me, I see," Taliesin grinned, looking around. "Where is Zevran?"
The crossbow wielding Crows give strangled cry and fall from the building, a thrown dagger and an arrow in their throats. Taliesin looked over at his fallen comrades, disinterested at their fates, turning back as Zevran stepped out of alley.
"Here I am, Taliesin. Tell me, were you sent, or did you volunteer for the job?" Above him drawing a second arrow was Blair, crouched on the roof.
"I volunteered, of course," Taliesin smirked. "When I heard the great Zevran had gone rogue, I just had to see it for myself!"
"Is that so?" Zevran droned. "Well, here I am, in the flesh."
Taliesin frowned, unsettled by Zevran's seeming lack of care at his presence. He extended a hand to his former comrade.
"You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you in the slightest. It's not too late; come back with me and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake..."
"Like you did with Rinna?" Blair sneered coldly.
Taliesin scowled, seeing the familiar ring in the elf's ear.
"How does she know about that?"
Zevran shrugged, sending Blair a flirtatious smirk.
"Don't you remember? I never could keep my mouth shut, particularly in bed."
"Sorry to interrupt this touching reunion," Erin snapped, eyeing Zevran warily. Her brother trusted Zevran, but situations like this could be extremely tempting. "But you seem to be forgetting that for your plan to work, we would have to be dead."
"Yes, you would have to be dead," Zevran drew his blades, looking Erin straight in the eye. "And I'm not about to let that happen."
"What? You've gone soft!" Taliesin snarled. "Are you tired of living, Zevran? You do this, and you'll never be safe, you hear me? The Crows will hunt you to the ends of Thedas!"
"I suspect I shall do just fine," Zevran chuckled before growing a bit more somber. "I'm sorry, old friend, but my answer is no. I'm not coming back, and you should have stayed in Antiva."
Zevran drove both daggers into Taliesin's chest.
"That," he growled, twisting the blades. "Was for Rinna. This is for me. Goodbye, old friend." With only a slight bit of remorse, Zevran brought around his dagger to slash Taliesin's throat. "And so, it is done," he said after a long moment with an odd expression. Sadness and relief warred across his face. "Taliesin is dead and I am free of the Crows. They should assume I have perished along with Taliesin; so long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."
"Surely that's a good thing?" Blair asked uncertainly.
"A very good thing," the assassin answered with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's what I've hoped for ever since your fellow Wardens decided not to kill me. *sigh and look to the sky before looking to Erin* It has been fun traveling in your company, but I am wondering if the time has come for us to part ways; I feel that would be the practical thing to do? Still, the decision is yours; would you have me leave?
Blair bit her lip, looking to Erin, who was silent for a long moment. When it passed, she looked to Zevran.
"I would have you stay," she said finally and firmly. "Besides, you promised Conrí you'd look out for Fergus, Oriana and Oren. As I'm sure you have realized by now, it is fairly unwise to piss him off."
Zevran gave an only slightly joking grimace.
"Yes, it would not do for me to escape the Crows only to run afoul of a wolf. Let us return to the task at hand...and be gone before someone comes and asks awkward questions."
After gathering Amethyne, who took some convincing as she was already quite wary of humans before Blair intervened, the group returned to the Market District to find a large crowd. At the center they spotted Fergus shouting at a figure on its knees. Getting closer, Erin suddenly stopped, her face going pale.
"Ma vhenan?" Tira asked, cocking her head.
"That's Thomas Howe…" Erin muttered.
"Ah, no wonder your brother is so cross," Zevran mused. "A wonder our dear commander's voice hasn't joined your elder's."
As the group approached, they saw Conrí standing behind Fergus, a very conflicted look on his face. Anger, pain, worry and guilt warred on his face.
"After what your cold-hearted bastard of a father did to my family, you have the gall to show your face and beg for mercy?!" Fergus snarled.
"Fergus," Conrí intoned quietly.
"I should mount your head next to your father's, you traitorous-!" Fergus's rant was cut off as Conrí's hand darted forward.
All three Cousland siblings, and many family friends, knew this gesture. When a member of the Cousland family was losing control of their emotions or about to act without thinking, another of the family would face the individual and place their hand on the side of their kinsman's head behind the ear, tips of the fingers pressed firmly but not harshly into the base of the overexcited family member's neck. Outsiders noticed this was not so dissimilar to a wolf biting the nape of another's neck, but rather than an admonishment or act of dominance, this was a calming motion; one Couslands were trained from birth to obey.
It signified a member believed another was going too far or needed more thought before their actions. It was never used lightly and never for something less then entirely important, thus no Cousland in recent memory disobeyed it when used.
This scene had been witnessed many times between the two siblings, but never in this way. Growing up, Conrí had always had a hot temper. When it flared up and Fergus was closer than Bryce, he would take his younger brother by the head and calm his fiery sibling. He was rarely pleased about it, but after listening to his elder brother's words, Conrí would consistently acknowledge the wisdom of what Fergus told him.
Fergus panted as he stared at Conrí, his deep sapphire eyes, alight with pain, fury and mild disbelief, bored into the understanding yet unrelenting steel blue orbs of his little brother.
"Fergus," Conrí said quietly but firmly. "I get it. I do. There was a time I wanted nothing more than to paint the walls of Vigil's Keep with the blood of anyone bearing the name Howe. But both Bann Sighard and his son Oswyn have confirmed that neither Thomas nor Delilah have had anything to do with Rendon's actions. And what was it that Father always taught us, Fergus?"
Fergus's breath hitched and he made to look away. Conrí was having none of that, jostling his brother's head slightly.
"What was it, Fergus?" Conrí repeated roughly. "'Unless the son repeats them…'"
"'Let the father's sins die with him,'" Fergus finished. "Yes."
After a long moment of letting Fergus regain his breath, Conrí pulled his brother into an unapologetic hug, his hand never leaving the back of Fergus's head, though it was now much gentler. A moment passed before both brothers lifted an arm and pulled their baby sister into the embrace, who squeezed her brothers with all the strength they held her with.
The trio of siblings had been torn apart by war and betrayal. Their family was smaller and nothing they ever did would fill the void left by the deaths of their parents. But Couslands were strong. They were stubborn and willful, which made it impossible for them to give up. While their hearts may have been broken, their wills never would be. They'd found each other again, against all odds. And if any of the three had anything to say about it, they would never be torn apart again.
Gradually, the three separated, Erin keeping close to Fergus as Conrí turned to Thomas, still prostrate at the bottom of the steps. Thomas, who's eyes had lifted to watch the scene unfold, flinched slightly and lowered his head again.
"Thomas," Conrí spoke, his voice a bit rough from unshed tears. "Your father's actions will never be forgotten. Whatever he may have done for Fereldan during the Occupation has been tarnished by his action against my family and our people, both here in Denerim and north in Highever. However, Couslands have never believed in making the son pay for the sins of his father. So, if you swear on the memory of your forefathers that Rendon's machinations and betrayals died with him, your life will be spared and your family absolved."
Thomas swallowed.
"My father and his lackeys acted without the knowledge or consent of his family. I swear on my mother's pyre that neither myself, Delilah nor Nathaniel had anything to do with his actions."
Conrí stared hard at Thomas, making his old friend sweat. The man before him was not the boy he drank with not two years prior. This was a hard man who would kill him and not shed a tear if Thomas's words rang false. Before Thomas could begin hyperventilating, Conrí nodded.
"I believe you. On your feet." Thomas shakily did as he was told. "Gather your men and meet at Highever House. I'm sure you still remember the way. Sten will be accompanying you."
The large Qunari crossed his arms and nodded. "As you wish, Kadan."
Holy shit, its been so long. I am SO sorry its taken this long. But, being an adult sucks, and DMing a Dungeons and Dragons game takes up a lot of my free time, even during the pandemic. I can't promise when the next chapter will be, but I hope it's sooner. Now that my LEAST favorite part of the game is done, hopefully, I'll have more drive to write. Thank you to whoever still reads this. ~Sin