Official Meeting

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none

Author's Notes:

OMG I suck at titles. though... i could have used bannon's quote of 'let's get this landsmeet started'! :X

Official Meeting

==#==

"Where are the others?" Eamon fretted. "We want to make a strong showing when we meet Loghain."

"They'll be here," Bannon reassured him. Sten, Shale, and Wynne had returned shortly after the boys. As for Leliana... she was probably a lost cause, but if she missed the meeting it was no huge loss. How scary would a Chantry sister look, anyway? But Morrigan might hurry her along. Or at least return without the bard.

Bannon went to find Zevran again. The assassin was annoying Wynne.

"I was wondering what it feels like to be possessed by a spirit."

Wynne eyed the Antivan suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"I am curious. Should I not get to know my companions better? Especially if they have such unique experiences." Zevran frowned. "Is it wrong to get to know people?"

"No, of course it isn't." Wynne thought a moment. "It isn't like being possessed by a demon."

"Have you been possessed by a demon, my dear Wynne?"

"No, I have not. But I have seen such things. Demons take you, they control you. Having a spirit is quite different. It's hard to describe. It is comforting. I... I feel safe. Loved."

Zevran nodded, leaning closer attentively. "Comforted, loved... si."

"Yes, it's like being held close, cradled. Like a warm, loving hug."

Bannon didn't mean to eavesdrop on their conversation, but he didn't want to interrupt. His own mind went back, far into his past, to memories of his mother when he was just a little toddler. His mother's warm embrace, cradling him close, shutting out the world and its harshness. He could hear her voice. And on this day, the Maker gave me a gift.

What gift, Mamma?

The very special gift of my very own beautiful baby boy.

He heard his own sweet, childlike laugh.

Back in the courtyard, Zevran was musing, "A spirit hug?"

"It's much more than that." Wynne focused within herself, searching for words. "It is a bond so complete, I cannot extricate myself, nor do I wish to." Her eyes snapped to the assassin. "Wait... why do you have that look on your face?"

"Hmm?" Zevran's eyes were half lidded. "I am merely trying to imagine such a feeling. Please, continue."

"Well, there is a strong presence, deep within me. There's a warmth, spreading out from the center of my being, infusing me with-"

"Ooooh, yesss," the Antivan crooned.

"Andraste's Grace!" Wynne snapped, stepping back. "What are you thinking about, now? No! I don't want to know! I feel dirty."

"But Wynne," Zevran whined. "Do not leave me alone. I may cry. May I lay my head on your bosom and cry?"

"You can cry well away from my bosom!"

"But it is such a marvelous bosom. I know women half your age who have not held up so well. Is it a magical bosom?"

"Zevran!" she snapped. "We are not talking about my bosom! Now get away from me."

He sighed with an exaggerated slump, and turned away. He perked up when he spied Bannon. "Aha! A man who appreciates my talents, my curiosity, my penetrating insights-"

"Did you forget you insulted me and my skills just five minutes ago?"

"Pah! No, it seems like seven years. You hold a grudge this long?"

Bannon just shook his head, pushing away thoughts of his family, of his past. "Nevermind. Let's just get this Landsmeet started."

==#==

Protocol required Eamon to register his presence at the Landsmeet along with all the other Arls and Banns. This meant a face-to-face meeting with the Queen, or more likely, the Regent. Rats gnawed at Alistair's stomach as he tried to imagine seeing Loghain, and having a little chat instead of attacking him on a proper battlefield. "Politics make me lose my lunch," he confided in Bannon as his companion helped him with some last minute checks and adjustments to his armor.

"You'll be fine," the irrepressible elf told him. "If you barf, aim for his face."

Alistair actually laughed. This was doable, as long as Bannon stayed by his side. And Arl Eamon. Teagan would have been good, too, but the more, the merrier. The Warden's company would be there, to be diplomatic (Leliana), shrewd (Wynne), diplomatic and shrewd (Bannon), imposing (Sten and Shale), and... well, Zevran was annoying. Oghren had elected to remain passed out in the wagon, and Morrigan had disappeared somewhere, after a little talk with Bannon.

"Where's Morrigan?" Alistair asked him in genuine curiosity.

"Oh, she's about." Bannon glanced up at the sky, scanning around.

Oh-ho, a bird spy. Good idea. "You know, if this king thing goes through, I'm totally making you my chief advisor."

"And then dump all the work on me?"

"You don't want to do it?" Alistair asked in surprise.

The elf grinned. "I'd love nothing more."

They headed inside.

==#==

Someone thought it would be fun to make them cool their heels waiting interminably. Bannon considered using the time to steal anything of value in the hall. Idle hands and all that. Still... he probably couldn't stuff many of those shields and halberds under his tunic.

Eamon demanded the guards go fetch someone, after waiting long enough to prove he could handle these petty games, but not so long that he looked weak.

Then, an insufferable several minutes later, the doors opened and six guards accompanied a thin older warrior who looked the polar opposite of his livery's bear insignia. Small, thin, and that nose was definitely rat-like. Bannon didn't need Zevran's muttered 'That's Howe' to recognize him. And instantly hate him. That was the shem who had come in to replace Vaughn, the one who had called down a purge on his home, then locked his people inside the Alienage to let the plague run rampant. Sure, now he had called in healers, the better to get his servants back to work.

"Eamon," the arl greeted them neutrally.

"Howe."

Howe's eyes narrowed past Eamon and Alistair to the Grey Wardens' company. One brow may have twitched at the golem, but his eyes definitely narrowed at the elves. "You come here with the likes of these... riffraff?"

"These are the Grey Wardens," Eamon stated.

"That is an Antivan Crow. Were you planning on assassinating anyone?"

Zevran, accent breathy, said, "Do I know you? Ah, weren't you the one hiring the Crows to kill your country's Grey Wardens? Say it a little louder - I don't think the entire Landsmeet heard you."

Howe glared daggers at him, while Bannon tried not to smirk. The arl singled him out next. "And aren't you the one who murdered the Bann? Then ran off to escape justice?"

"Do you have any witnesses to prove these allegations?"

"Not after the Purge, no."

Bannon seethed. My next murder is going to be an arl.

"Fortunately, your accomplice didn't escape." Howe smirked.

Soris? Bannon's stomach dropped. What had he done to Soris? He wanted to rip the answers straight out of Howe's throat, but restrained himself.

Alistair rescued him. "He's a Grey Warden."

"That gives him the right to commit crimes?"

Eamon stepped in with, "I wouldn't talk about murders and assassinations if I were you. Everyone knows what happened at Highever."

"You mean how Bryce Cousland attacked my men while I was away?"

"No, the real story. As well as the real story of the poisoner you sent to my court."

From the balcony above came Loghain's strident voice. "Eamon. It's about time you showed up. Calling for a Landsmeet while the darkspawn claw at our doors. We should be fighting, not debating."

Alistair said, "Maybe if you had done your job at Ostagar instead of running away and leaving your king and the Grey Wardens to die, we would be fighting, and even winning now."

"Alistair," was all Loghain said, with a tinge of regret? Bannon had forgotten how intimidating the General was. Well. Compare him to an Archdemon. There, not so big and scary, is he?

"That's right," Alistair growled back. "Still alive. Still King Maric's son."

Eamon added, "Step down now, Loghain. We can end this pointless warring amongst ourselves and combat the Blight, if that's what is most important to you."

By the Maker, it looked as if Loghain was actually thinking it over! It couldn't be this easy, could it? If it was, who would trust it?

Then Howe snidely commented, "Isn't it against the tenets of the Grey Wardens to get involved in politics? I do think being king qualifies, doesn't it?"

Shit! This Howe guy needed to die, and much faster!

Loghain nodded solemnly. "Your status as Grey Warden precludes you from ruling."

Alistair might have danced a jig at that, but no. Not if it meant Loghain would win. Eamon said, "The Landsmeet will decide."

"Yes, it will."

"Very well, then."

Loghain withdrew without any ceremony. Howe waved them away dismissively like a stuck up shem noble who needed his arm ripped off and shoved up his ass.

Eamon turned and ushered them out. "Calm down, everyone," he said quietly as they passed through the doors to the entry hall. "We're still in enemy territory."

Zevran sidled up to Bannon anyway. "Tell me you want me to kill him for you, mi patrone."

"Oh, no. I'm going to do it."

"Not if I get there first," the assassin grumbled.

Outside, the group loosened up a little. Eamon told them, "We have a few days before the vote is called. We need to identify our allies, measure their number against Loghain's supporters, then court those who are undecided, persuade them to our side."

"Oh Maker, my head!" Alistair complained. "Can we have no politicking for just five minutes?"

"Alistair, this is important."

Bannon said, "You and Leliana can do the analysis, ser. Then we can act."

Eamon frowned. "He has to learn."

"But I'll just slow you down! You said we don't have much time."

Leliana said, "It is a good idea for us to work on this swiftly, then we can develop a strategy we can all implement."

The arl slowly nodded. "Very well. Alistair, be careful. We know Howe and Loghain aren't above having their enemies killed."

"I will."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Bannon promised.

==#==

"Bannon..." Zevran motioned for the other elf to join him in a quieter corner of the courtyard.

Bannon frowned. It was rather unusual for Zevran to call him by name. And the Antivan's face was far too serious. "What is it?"

"I have been thinking. I have told you, if I am to escape the Crows, what better way than to join the bastards who are even tougher than they are, si?"

"Yeah...?" Bannon crossed his arms, unsure where this was going.

Zevran took a breath and straightened. "I would like to join the Grey Wardens."

"What, you mean... officially?"

"Si."

Bannon chewed his lip. He couldn't allow Zevran to go through the Joining. It could kill him. "No," he blurted.

"No?" The assassin scowled. "And why not?"

"It's just... Even if Alistair and I knew how to perform the Joining - which we don't - we can't. Because we don't have the ingredients."

"Ingredients?" Zevran shook his head in confusion. "You can't just... hire me on?"

"No, it's not that simple. There's a whole... secret ceremony. And it involves drinking a vile concoction." He made a face. "You wouldn't want to do it."

"Pah," the assassin scoffed. "As if I am afraid of a little initiation hazing."

"Why do you even want to be a Warden, anyway? It's a terrible job, trust me."

Zevran shrugged, paced away a little, kicked lightly at the base of the stone wall. "Just I... did not think it through. I should not have gone to the meeting."

"Are you kidding? That was brilliant." Bannon smirked. "'I don't think the entire Landsmeet heard you.'"

Zevran did not pick up on his jocularity. "Howe knows I am a Crow, and he knows now that I have not only failed my mission, but refused to finish it. He will contact the Crows. It won't be long before they know my treason, and know where I am." He swallowed.

Now this was serious. Sure, the Crows could have sent out another team of assassins after them, but those assassins would have had to find them. They were sitting ducks here. "All right," Bannon said. "But it will take some time for him to get a message out, and for them to send someone, right? We'll just have to be careful."

"If they are not already here." Zevran heaved a sigh, then picked his spirit up by the bootstraps. "Well, we are royally tough to kill."

"They don't stand a chance," Bannon asserted.

Zevran gave him a jaunty chuckle, but it did nothing to ease the tension around his eyes.

==X==

End notes:

"Did you forget you insulted me and my skills just five minutes ago?"
"Pah! No, it seems like seven years. You hold a grudge this long?"

-it's tough when you need to assemble a chapter today with a scene you wrote THAT long ago! omg, continuity... don't fail me now!