Notes: Fans of Arl Eamon, take note, this story is critical of him, and this chapter is probably the most critical thus far. I'm not writing him as a villain, but I am giving a pretty harsh take on canon involving him. You can't really have a hard talk with Alistair about Eamon in the game, but that's what fanfic is for. Elissa's take in this chapter is my own take as well.

Chapter 18: Counselor or Puppeteer?

Leliana gave Elissa a wicked, knowing smile the next morning. The sun streamed through the drapes, its rays making their bodies nearly glow with health and vitality.

Elissa greeted her with a kiss. Maker, but it was nice to wake up with someone she loved. Leliana clearly agreed, as she allowed herself to be drawn into a warm, naked embrace under the covers. Elissa's hands began to stroke up her lover's sides. Initially it was just a gesture of greeting, tenderness, and, perhaps, Elissa reassuring herself that this was real, that Leliana was real and hers—but it rapidly turned into more than that.

"We aren't going to see the others just yet, then?" Leliana teased.

"I think not," Elissa murmured, planting another kiss on her collarbone. "Duty's duty, but it doesn't mean that we never get any time for ourselves."

"Exactly."

Elissa rolled her onto her back and climbed atop her. Blue eyes gazed up at her eagerly and lovingly as Leliana pulled her down to another kiss.

The two women were remarkably alert and happy when they did finally take their breakfasts and then enter the Great Hall of Redcliffe, where Teagan and Eamon were conferring. Several of their companions were already there. Alistair was chatting with a knight, and Zevran looked to be flirting with a knight. Wynne was milling about, reading a book. She gave the young women a pointed look as they entered the room together. Her lips thinned slightly, but this was the only sign of disapproval that she showed. Elissa hoped that she would come to see that her relationship with Leliana was a good thing, not something that would distract her from her tasks. The fact that Wynne herself had experienced a traumatic outcome from a romantic relationship did not mean that it was inevitable that everyone else would.

Arl Eamon was still thin and weak, of course, but he looked much better than he had last night, and he had, after all, emerged from the sickroom to oversee his castle. His brother gestured for Elissa and her companions to come forward to speak to the family.

"Wardens," Eamon said, "I extend my thanks once more for the services you have rendered. I mourn Lady Isolde, of course."

"I am sorry for your loss," Elissa said sincerely.

"I'm told that she insisted on it herself, and you chose to save Connor and the people of Redcliffe. If I had been in her place, it would have been me. True nobles protect their people, and loving parents would lay down their lives for their children."

"I know," she said quietly, looking down, eyes suddenly hot. "I know personally."

"I learned of what befell your family and I offer my sympathies as well. But we must look ahead and concentrate on saving Ferelden. Connor will go to the Circle, and Teagan will become my heir. As for you, I would like to offer a token of my gratitude for your services. I name you and your companions Champions of Redcliffe. Teagan, please present the Warden with her gift."

Elissa stood by as the bann brought her a heavy shield painted with the sigil of Redcliffe. She stifled her grimace. She did not use a shield, but she could not turn this down. It seemed to be a high-quality item. She resolved to give it to Alistair when they were away from here; he fought with sword and shield.

"We should speak of Loghain, brother," Teagan said as he returned to the high seat. "There is no telling what he will do now."

Eamon shook his head. "I do not understand what has come over Loghain, why he would do this. The darkspawn are on our very doorstep, yet he instigates a civil war. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man, one who never desired power. This is not like him."

"He desires it now," Teagan said roughly. "I was there when he said he was taking over the throne. He's mad with ambition."

"Mad," Eamon mused. "Perhaps it is exactly that. But whatever happened to him, he must be stopped."

Well, Eamon certainly wasn't wasting any time getting down to business, Elissa thought. She couldn't judge him for not falling into a morass of grief—after all, she had done the same, pushing ahead relentlessly with her duty in the days between the massacre and their arrival at the Circle Tower, which was the first time she allowed herself an emotional outburst. But she did wonder a bit that he expressed no sense of awe for the reality of the Ashes of Andraste or his own cure by their powers. She could tell that it was off-putting to Leliana too.

"I agree with your lordship that the priority is the Blight," she spoke up. "Perhaps Alistair has told you about the Grey Wardens' mission to obtain allies. We have already enlisted the... surviving... Circle mages. We also have treaties with the crown of Orzammar and the clans of the Dalish elves."

"And I pledge you the support of Redcliffe's soldiers," Eamon said. "I will spread the word of Loghain's treachery to my peers."

"You should contact Arl Bryland and Arl Wulff," Elissa suggested. "Also Bann Alfstanna. I expect the allies of my family will be amenable enough." She paused. "Bann Teagan. I would ask you about what you saw, regarding Loghain taking the throne. How could he do that? Did Queen Anora formally cede the regency to him? Didn't King Cailan name a regent himself?"

The Guerrins exchanged uncomfortable looks. "Warden Cousland, I... do not know what the queen dowager and her father discussed behind closed doors. What I do know is that King Cailan did not..." Teagan grimaced. "He did not leave a last will and testament or any instruction about who should rule in the interregnum before a Landsmeet if he were to die."

Elissa gaped in disbelief. "He was a king!" she exclaimed. "How could he not have had a will? Are you certain that Loghain didn't just suppress and destroy it?"

Arl Eamon shook his head. "I advised King Cailan closely. It could not have been concealed from me. I am sorry to confirm that he did not have a will. He wanted to... have things more settled..." The arl broke off awkwardly.

Elissa was appalled, and she could tell that this was a surprise to Leliana as well. Certainly it would be unthinkable among the Orlesian nobility. Indeed, it was unthinkable here in Ferelden too. She had wondered about this before, but had not seriously imagined it could be true, and she could scarcely believe it.

"So Loghain is not truly a usurper, in that there was no one whose lawful rights he is usurping," Eamon continued. "That means that we must call a Landsmeet to name an official monarch to be formally crowned and put forward a challenge that he cannot ignore. His power depends on the myth that the Theirin bloodline is extinct. That, as I believe you know, is not the case."

In the back, Alistair grimaced. "Oh, no," he groaned loudly.

"Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood."

"Does nobody care about what I want?" Alistair burst out.

Eamon regarded him gravely. "You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?"

Elissa was torn. She agreed with the substance of Eamon's words, but something in her became angry at the presumption of Eamon laying a guilt trip on Alistair. And you had a responsibility to raise a king's son appropriately, so that he would be prepared for that role if he had to assume it, she thought. How dare you moralize to him about duty? You sure evaded yours!

"No... but..."

"So once the armies have been gathered, I will call for a Landsmeet to decide the succession. Then we can fight our true foe. What say you to that, Warden? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

Elissa nodded, suppressing her anger. "I consent. But I would ask why you can't call for the Landsmeet at once." Her words had an edge.

"If it doesn't go our way, then... well, let us just say that there might not be any Grey Wardens in Ferelden to invoke the treaties."

Elissa grimaced, but she couldn't argue with that. She cursed inwardly. They should have talked to the Queen immediately after Ostagar, before battle lines were drawn. Now the moment was lost. She sighed, resigning herself to the reality that she would continue to hear falsehoods against her family and the Grey Wardens, continue to hear rumors of Howe's tyranny over the North, until this Landsmeet.

She remembered her own theory about why Loghain was acting as he was. Squaring herself up, she faced the Guerrins. "My lords. Regarding Alistair and his birth. I have to ask... did King Cailan know about Alistair? And does Loghain know?"

"Yes... to both," Eamon said. "Cailan learned as a young man that he had a half-brother, and Loghain has known for even longer."

She gazed down, scowling and hoping that the Guerrins didn't see it. There it was, then. She could not know exactly what Loghain was thinking without asking him personally, but if he knew who Alistair was, her theory that he believed his own assertions about a Warden conspiracy was quite viable.

"So," Teagan offered, "in that sense, he is knowingly usurping the rights of the last Theirin."

"But King Cailan didn't mention Alistair as an heir either, even though he knew Alistair was the only other Theirin?" Elissa asked. The Guerrins shook their heads. Her dismay and disgust for the late king rapidly grew. How could he have been so selfish and irresponsible? The condition of Ferelden right now, the political unrest and chaos, is more Cailan's fault than anyone else's, she thought mutinously.

"All right," she finally said. "I will obtain the rest of the Grey Warden allies, and we'll prepare for a Landsmeet. I want justice for my family too." Her gaze hardened. "I claim the right of blood against Rendon Howe."

"That will be settled as well... if not before." Eamon paused. "For now, one decision remains, and that is what will become of the apostate, Jowan. Teagan, have him brought forth."

Elissa was not at all sure that that had gone well. Eamon had clearly wanted the head of the man who poisoned him—but this was also the man who saved his only child, and the poisoning was not Jowan's own idea, but an act he was blackmailed into doing. He had also perhaps saved the villagers and castle staff who might have died if Elissa had spent days traveling to and from the Circle. She had come up with what she thought was a just punishment, to return Jowan to the Circle, where he would then be ordered to fight beside the other mages in the Blight. Leliana had given her a troubled look as she issued her judgment, and as the small group headed back to the dungeons to escort the mage to his cell, it became clear why.

"My lady," Jowan said quietly, "I know I don't deserve mercy... but I..." He mustered up his courage to speak. "The reason I escaped the Circle is that they were going to make me Tranquil. There was something else, but that was why I allowed myself to entertain the idea of escaping. Since I used blood magic to escape, they might execute me now if I go back, but... I don't know that. Since the Circle was almost destroyed, and the demons attacked the Tranquil too, they might keep me around to 'rebuild.' I can't imagine that they would admit me again as a mage. And I would rather die than live like that. I mean that." He got on his knees. "Please, I beg of you, just—end it."

Morrigan and Sten were indifferent, but the rest of the companions looked troubled at this. Wynne was especially upset. "Jowan," she said in a soothing tone, "the First Enchanter has to approve the Rite of Tranquility. It is Chantry law. I could speak to him. You kept your word here, such as it was."

"Irving had already approved it, then," Jowan said morosely. "Can he take that back? And anyway, would they admit me after the massacre, the doing of blood mages?" He shook his head. "And when Lord Connor arrives..."

"Could we conscript him into the Grey Wardens?" Elissa asked Alistair. "We do need mages, as Leliana pointed out at the Circle Tower."

He shook his head. "We don't know how to make... you-know-what."

Elissa stood aside, biting her lower lip and pondering their options. Finally she made a decision. "I will call upon the treaty that the Circle of Magi has with the Grey Wardens," she said. "I will demand that you fight the Blight as a mage. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander acknowledged the treaty and agreed to send all surviving capable adult mages of the Circle to fight the darkspawn. You were a capable adult mage of the Circle at the time that they agreed to that; therefore, they meant you too. Even if they didn't know it."

Leliana chuckled. "She is right! Their promise included you!"

Jowan managed a weak smile at this. Elissa muttered to him, "And after we've defeated the Blight, I expect you to report to me, Alistair, or—if neither of us survives—the nearest post of Grey Wardens to Join us. We should be able to do it then, or will soon enough."

"I... understand."

"I had better not hear of you again until I call upon the mages to do battle," she said with a falsely sweet smile.

Elissa made arrangements with Teagan to escort Jowan back to the Circle herself, which he was visibly relieved to hear. Every knight of Redcliffe was needed here, and even the local Templars were busy doing civic work to restore the village. If the Wardens wanted to take on extra duties, he didn't object.

She then mustered up her nerve and approached his brother, the Arl. She knew it was terribly ill-bred to start what might turn into an argument in front of others, but she was not going to let certain things go unchallenged. As Teagan departed to resume his regular duties, Eamon was alone in the Great Hall with only the knights remaining. She gestured that she wanted a private word with him, and soon they found themselves in the Little Audience Chamber of Redcliffe Castle, the door closed behind them.

"What did you need to discuss, Warden Cousland?"

"Alistair," she said, "and specifically, his readiness to be king."

Eamon raised an eyebrow. "Teagan told me last night that while you and your companions went into the mountains, you left Alistair in charge, and that he did a fine job of it. Of course, overseeing the recovery effort of a small village is different from ruling a nation, but it shows that the Theirin blood runs true in him. In time, he may live up to his half-brother's leadership example."

If the only thing required to be a king is to make inspirational statements and imagine oneself chosen by the Maker and immune to harm, then there are plenty of people who could be kings, she thought sourly. And if you think Cailan was a good leader, someone Alistair should emulate, you don't know what that even is.

"I have been encouraging Alistair to become more comfortable with making decisions," she managed.

Eamon nodded, pleased. "There is a reason families like ours, and like the Theirins, are the leaders of Ferelden."

Elissa obviously understood this point of view. It promoted civil and political stability for the spirit of a nation—or a teyrnir, or arling—to be embodied in the popular imagination in a specific bloodline. There was a reason that the Rebellion burgeoned when Maric's survival became known and the rebels could rally around their prince. She reflected on the constant turmoil and corruption of their northern neighbor, Kirkwall, which couldn't keep the same family on its high seat for more than two generations. But the Rebellion had also flourished with the clever strategizing and superior merit of Loghain, which had been rewarded with his own ascent to the nobility. Then, too, inferior, corrupted nobles eventually fell from power. Rendon Howe, you're next, she thought. One had to live up to one's heritage, she felt—and Cailan had failed in that.

But she couldn't say this to Cailan's uncle, who obviously thought that the late king had done nothing wrong. And she wanted to discuss other things.

"Alistair has natural merit and talent," she said carefully. "But unfortunately, that talent has been suppressed until recently."

"What do you mean?"

Just say it, she thought. Mustering her courage, she did. "He told me that someone had impressed upon him when he was a young boy that his heritage didn't matter, both by telling him so, and by treating him accordingly. He himself didn't mind it, but it could undermine him if it gets out that you made him work as a stableboy. People might think you were putting forward a former servant boy who happened to resemble a Theirin. I believe Alistair is Maric's son," she said when Eamon looked to object. "I'm not accusing you of lying! But no one would think that an appropriate way to raise a king's child." Her voice had a sharp edge.

Eamon bristled. "That was my lady wife's doing, Warden. She believed him to be my son."

Elissa didn't doubt it, but it still irked her that the man would be so eager to push blame onto a woman who wasn't alive to defend herself instead of taking responsibility for his charge. "Did you ever tell her the truth?" she replied. When Eamon did not respond, she continued, her worst suspicions confirmed. "And who was the ruling noble? Who had the right to make final decisions, Lady Isolde, or you?"

Eamon glowered at the young woman as he drew further into himself in defense. "I allowed this decision to stand, and then later, her wish that he join the Templars, in order to protect Prince Cailan. Raised as a prince, Alistair would have been a rival to Cailan... and it would have dishonored the memory of my royal sister, Queen Rowan."

"If Maric cheated on his queen, the dishonor was his," she said brazenly, "as it would have been his broken vow. If we aren't responsible for our own deeds, our oaths mean nothing. Even a king's."

Eamon looked chastened by this logic. Emboldened, Elissa continued. "But that said, Alistair is not even the product of adultery. I know how old he is. He was born two years after the queen died." She faced Eamon. "And Cailan would hardly have been the first prince or princess to have been raised with a sibling. In fact," she added, feeling and sounding more exercised by the moment, "as King Maric grew older and never had another legitimate child, never remarried, wouldn't it have occurred to someone to have a prince in reserve, in case something happened to Cailan? If Maric had acknowledged him, he could have legitimized him and had him educated accordingly. Alistair wouldn't have been a Grey Warden at all then. Did it not occur to anyone that it was a bad idea to have the royal line so sparse?"

Eamon was silent for a moment. "Alistair has been a 'prince in reserve,' as you say," he said gruffly. "The succession has not failed."

"But Ferelden is at war now. If not Maric, then Cailan should have named him as his heir-presumptive if he died without issue—as has happened. He failed to have a child with Anora after five years—failed even to sire a bastard, evidently—and then the darkspawn attacked. The Blight is our common enemy! The darkspawn don't care if someone supports us or Loghain—or neither. They will kill anyone! This civil war did not need to happen."

"This civil war is happening because of Loghain!"

"Yes," Elissa said, "it is—but this is my point! Loghain is Regent at all because Cailan left no heirs! He didn't even leave a will naming an heir-presumptive! A king! He really didn't believe he might die."

"From what I have heard, he died because Loghain commanded the rest of the army to retreat, leaving him to die."

"With all due respect, you were not there, my lord Arl. The battlefield was overrun with darkspawn. The horde was over ten thousand strong. Loghain probably wanted to save the rest of the army." She suppressed her own grief at the memories she was about to dredge up. "There were servants and guards still alive at Highever. Did I kill them by fleeing? Or did I leave a battle I could not win because that was the only way that a Cousland could live to fight another day? Cailan fought in the vanguard; what could anyone have done to save him once they clashed with the darkspawn?" She took a deep breath. "I'm not defending what Loghain has done afterwards, especially poisoning you, but there are times when the only rational choice is to retreat and regroup."

"Alistair believes that Loghain also killed the Warden-Commander."

"Alistair was very close to Duncan, and the loss hurts him greatly. I hate that he died too. He saved my life, and we would have been better off with an experienced Warden-Commander alive. But he also fought with the vanguard. No one can promise safety to people fighting on the front lines." She sighed. "My point is, Loghain took power because no one else except his own daughter had the standing to do so, and she'd never been Regent before, while he had. And that would have been avoided if Maric had acknowledged Alistair. Cailan would've had little choice but to name him his heir-presumptive, and Loghain couldn't have become Regent unopposed."

Eamon glowered again. "It is of little import. Once the Landsmeet sees Alistair and hears from me that he is Maric's son, the succession will be settled. Your job is to gather the rest of the allies against the Blight, Warden. I cannot call a Landsmeet until you have secured the dwarven kingdom and the Dalish elves." At that, he turned away and began to walk off.

Elissa clenched her fists as she watched him leave. Something was becoming clear to her, and it enraged her. He didn't want Alistair known as a son of Maric because Cailan was his nephew by blood, she realized. That is all that it was. Cailan was his nephew by blood and Alistair is not related to him.

Eamon intended to keep whispering in Cailan's ear, and now that that has been denied him, he must turn to his fallback plan, to whisper in Alistair's ear. But that's only possible if Alistair regards Eamon as his benefactor, the man to whom he owes his throne. If Alistair had been acknowledged by Maric and educated as a prince, Eamon would have been nothing to him—and he knows it. If he goes before the Landsmeet and gets Alistair put on the throne, he can hold over Alistair that his word did it, and he can persuade Alistair that Alistair "needs" him as an advisor because Alistair was never brought up to be a prince... but that is only because he neglected Alistair's education.

I wish I knew why Maric permitted it. Perhaps he didn't care much about anything after the queen died. He did tend to go adventuring after that, leaving the ruling to Teyrn Loghain. Eamon took full advantage of Maric's absence.

Elissa resolved on something in that moment. I won't have it. Eamon is no friend to Alistair and I will not let Alistair continue to believe otherwise. I may be a Grey Warden now, but I am also a Cousland. I am a noblewoman, born and raised in Fereldan politics. Leliana may be a lay sister, but she was trained as an Orlesian bard, immersed in politics too. Alistair has actual friends who are equipped to make a king out of him. I can never be more than a friend to him, but this I can do—for my friend and for my country.

She wished that she could spend her time with Leliana in a different manner, but this was important. They needed to confer about this and make a plan.

"Alistair, Leliana and I need to talk with you alone," Elissa said. "Well—and my dog and wolf, but they won't be speaking." She forced a smile.

For all of Alistair's affectations of playing the court jester, dreading mental work, preferring to beat on things with a sword, and generally self-effacing behavior, he was smarter and more perceptive than he let on. He looked absolutely miserable when she approached him, and this statement—made in a very serious tone—seemed to confirm to him the thing that was making him miserable. Elissa was sure she knew what it was, that he had figured out what was going on. Her smile did not fool him.

"You and Arl Eamon really are going to put me forward for the throne," he said wretchedly when they were in an isolated room. "Aren't you?"

She chose her words carefully. "I know that it isn't what you wanted, but Eamon said some things that... well, that seriously concern me. He is not the only person who knows who you are, as you recall."

"Well, of course not," he said jocularly. "I told you. And the rest of you lot know." He grinned at the women.

Elissa ignored this. "As Eamon said this morning, Loghain knows, and Cailan knew too. That means Queen Anora knows. Your secret is nothing of the sort, Alistair. You cannot hide from it."

He looked cornered. "But—but I'm a Grey Warden! Grey Wardens can't be kings and queens! That means I'm not a threat..." He trailed off, recalling that being Wardens had not kept Loghain from trying to have them assassinated, and groaned. "Maker," he swore.

Elissa nodded. "Exactly. It hasn't stopped him. Alistair," she said, "do you know why the Wardens were banished from Ferelden?"

"They got involved in some sort of rebellion up north, I thought."

"They led it and committed treason. There was discontent with King Arland. I am not sure if it had merit, or what side of the conflict my family was on," she said, frowning. She had learned this history from Aldous, but the books had been very cagey about the Couslands' part in it. She wondered if they had been among the discontented. "But then, instead of letting the nobles settle it properly in a Landsmeet, the Grey Wardens rose in rebellion. Their Warden-Commander had been born a noblewoman and she was a cousin of the Theirins. She sought to overthrow the king and set herself on the throne."

Alistair frowned, taking this in. Elissa could tell exactly when he made the connection. "Maker's breath!" he exclaimed. "If Loghain knows who my father was—and of course he'd know all about that rebellion—"

"Yes," Elissa said, "that is my theory too, that he isn't trying to deflect blame from his decision to retreat, but that he really does think there was a Warden plot to put you on the throne. Because it happened before."

He shook his head. "Then why in the Maker's name do you want to do it?" he exclaimed.

"Several reasons. One, too many important people know you're a Theirin, and there is a precedent from that rebellion that being a Grey Warden doesn't remove you as a contender. Your life could be in danger, Alistair. You know what Zevran said about royal bastards of Antiva. They tend not to live long."

"Yes, and we could all die in the Blight, too."

"And if we don't, then you'll forever face the danger of being seen as a rival, especially since you would have emerged as one of the heroes of the Blight, and you would then be a senior Warden in a time of relative peace from darkspawn activity. You wouldn't have other pressing Warden duties."

He groaned.

Leliana then spoke up to assist Elissa. "There is another issue. We seek to get Teyrn Loghain off the throne. That means someone must replace him... and that means that we either must win outright, or we must make peace with those on his side that we can, such as, perhaps, Queen Anora."

He seized at the queen's name like a drowning man clutching a rope. "There you go. Why can't she stay there? If she doesn't approve of what he's done, of course."

"We don't know yet whether she is a viable candidate to rule," Elissa said. "We don't know if she believes Howe, or would believe him even if she heard a different account from me about my family. I'm willing to forgive people, for now," she said darkly, "since Howe's lies are the only word out there, but not after they hear from me and still believe him. I don't know if Anora would. We also don't know how friendly she is to the Grey Wardens. It's crucial to have a monarch who supports us, Alistair. King Cailan was a close friend of Duncan." Leliana stifled a mildly shocked smile. Elissa was ashamed of herself for doing that, as it was brazen emotional manipulation, but if it worked...

It did. Alistair's expression changed from mutinous denial to glum resignation. "There's something in that," he said dully. "But... I don't know how to be king. I guess Arl Eamon could help. Yes," he said again, seizing on the idea. "He could advise me. He has done so much for me, I owe him that."

The two women exchanged glances. Elissa girded herself. This part of this discussion might be harder than the first. Leliana gave a quick glance at the door, checking to make sure it was tightly closed. Elissa nonetheless kept her voice down in case someone overheard.

"Alistair, Eamon mistreated you as a child."

Alistair scowled. "You said that before, but I think I had more fun rolling about in the stables than I would have raised as a stuffed-shirt... bastard prince."

Elissa heaved a sigh. "If you had been raised as a young gentleman, that would have been normal to you—and incidentally, noble children can play and get up to mischief, in the stables and elsewhere. I certainly did." She smiled at the memories. "But look, Alistair, think about this. Why would Eamon have told you who your father was—told you that you were a king's son—but also told you that your birth didn't matter, that you were nobody? If you were nobody, unimportant, if your paternity didn't matter, then why tell it to you?"

Alistair considered that. "I don't know," he admitted.

"It was cruel of him to do so," she continued, "far crueler than just keeping it a secret and letting you think you were a peasant boy. Wouldn't you agree?"

He rubbed his head. "I... guess so."

"And as I see it, there are only two possible reasons why he did it. One, pettiness and spite, perhaps on behalf of his sister..."

He objected at once. "I don't believe that! He was never spiteful to me."

"And the queen died years before your birth, of course," Leliana added.

"Exactly! King Maric didn't cheat on her. Well, not with my mother."

Elissa tried not to laugh at how well they were both manipulating him. "The other possibility," she said, "is that Eamon wanted you to know the truth in case he needed to use you as a political pawn if the need arose someday, while also ensuring that you would never challenge Cailan. And that is the possibility I think is extremely likely. He all but admitted it to me."

Alistair's jaw dropped in shock and indignation. He closed it at once, then his mouth fell open again a time or two more in succession. It was clear to both women that he didn't want this to be true, but that he couldn't come up with another explanation, and in any case, Eamon's present actions seemed to back it up. When he was finally able to speak, he was subdued.

"I was hurt when he told me that I didn't matter like Cailan did, like other children with noble blood did," he said in a low voice. "It hurt my feelings. I didn't even want those things, but being told that, like that, hurt. I wondered why the Arl had bothered to tell me about Maric at all."

"Now you know," she said tonelessly.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

Elissa's voice was gentler now that she had apparently made him accept this unpleasant truth. "And I know that you enjoyed playing in the stables and getting muddy," she said. "I did too as a girl. But that wasn't where I lived. It was inappropriate to foster a king's son by making him a stableboy, keeping him illiterate, and forcing him to sleep near horse droppings."

"It is true," Leliana said. "In Orlais, and here in Ferelden, an illegitimate child of even a minor lord would be given proper quarters and the chance to become a knight or a scholar. I knew many such. You did not have this until you were sent to the Chantry, and that happened only because the arlessa wanted you gone."

Alistair looked wretched, but he could not argue with them.

"So Eamon was wrong—your birth does matter," Elissa said firmly.

Alistair finally managed to speak. "If it was wrong for me, maybe no one should have to live in dirt and squalor, even people who are peasants."

Leliana smiled in approval, and Elissa's voice was gentler still when she spoke. "Perhaps you are right," she said.

"We are all Children of the Maker," Leliana added.

"So we are," Elissa said, "and... yes, everyone deserves dignity. I've had to reflect a lot on that since... the event at Highever." She sighed. "But in the world we live in, people would regard Eamon's treatment of you as a scandal and a disgrace because you are a son of King Maric."

Alistair ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. "What do you want from me?" he finally said. "Eamon did wrong by me. I admit it. Is that it?"

"That's a part. You can still care about him, Alistair! We can care about people and still see when they have wronged us. What we need to do in that case, though, is limit their influence over us. We began this talk about Eamon when you said he could be a counselor to you if you become King. Now, though, if you agree that he treated you as he did because he wanted to control you—do you still think he should be your counselor?"

"Maybe... not. Or at least, no more than one among several."

"It is usually wisest to listen to multiple rational points of view," Leliana agreed. "Even if you do not agree with all of them, doing so will make you think about something that you might not have otherwise."

He stared at the ground, still glum but more resigned now. "Well—I'll do that. When—if—you lot make me be King. Ugh." He shuffled off.

"Poor thing," Leliana said when they were alone. "I almost felt bad about pulling at his strings like that." She gave Elissa a wink and a grin. "But that remark of yours about King Cailan and Duncan!"

Elissa shrugged innocently. "It worked, and I wasn't wrong."

"No, you were not." Leliana lay back on the bed, resting her head on a pillow. Elissa smiled and gazed upon her, the rays of the setting sun bathing her body in golden tones and making her hair look like fire. "What you said about Queen Anora—do you mean to talk with her when we get the chance?"

"I really hope to," Elissa said. "I knew her growing up. I have to think that will mean something to her. And I know Alistair won't like it, and possibly not Eamon either, but I'd also like to have a word with Loghain."

"What about what Arl Eamon said about Loghain not acting like himself, and possibly having lost his mind?"

Elissa considered it. "You know what I think of Eamon for his treatment of Alistair... but... if Jowan was telling the truth, Loghain paid to have Eamon poisoned. We don't know if the poison was supposed to be lethal or if it was 'only' meant to put him into this coma, but either way, if Eamon could speak that way, almost forgiving, of the man who had him poisoned... well, I can't just set that aside. Maybe there is something wrong with him." She was troubled. "I don't know. Alistair wants his head because he blames him for Duncan's death. I want Rendon Howe's head for obvious reasons. You want to have it out with Marjolaine. Should I consider my vengeance just and proper, and yours, but not his?"

"It will depend on Loghain's motives for retreating," Leliana said. "If he did so because he truly thought it the only rational choice, as you believe... then he did not murder Duncan. Alternatively..." She trailed off.

Elissa nodded. "We just need to have this Landsmeet and get all of this out in the open. That depends on getting the other armies. It depends on me."

Leliana smiled gently at her. "You are not alone."

Elissa gazed back, the corners of her lips tugging upward of their own free will. She glanced quickly at the door to be sure that it was closed tightly, then sprawled on the bed next to Leliana, quickly falling into shared and increasingly intense kisses with her.

Teagan was waiting for Elissa the next morning with rather embarrassing news—and a note addressed to her.

"The apostate Jowan fled," the bann said, looking ashamed. "I do not know how. He never escaped his cell before, when it would have been rational to try to do so, with the undead and demons attacking. But last night, when the guard came to replace his bedding, he must have put a sleep spell on the man while the door was unlocked and escaped. He left this for you. I am so sorry."

Elissa frowned. She was annoyed that he had broken his word to her, but supposed she was not too surprised. He was obviously not a brave man or a trusting one. She took the note and read it.

Warden Cousland and company,

I am very sorry for any trouble this may cause you, and sorry to back out of fighting the Blight with the Circle mages, but I just do not trust the Circle not to make me Tranquil even if you specifically tell them not to do it. I appreciate the second chance that you gave me to make things right at Redcliffe and stop the carnage. I wish Connor well and I'm sure he will become a powerful mage, a better mage than I am. I will see if there are any Blight refugees that I can help, but I intend to leave Ferelden, assume a different name, and never, ever use blood magic again. In this you have my word.

Best wishes to you,

Jowan

Elissa folded the note and tucked it into her pack, sighing. "What did Arl Eamon think of this? Or does he know yet?"

"He wasn't pleased," Teagan admitted, "but there's nothing we can do about it. He destroyed his phylactery when he escaped the Circle. We have no way to track him, especially if he is going by a different name."

"Who else knows so far?"

"Eamon himself, and Alistair. You may tell your... lady companion. But we would prefer to keep it hushed up."

"How? The group heard me offer to take him to the Circle. And when Connor goes to the Circle, he's bound to say that he had an apostate teacher briefly. Maybe even who it was. You can't keep children from talking. They just... don't have the self-discipline."

"We will say that he was executed attempting to escape. So that the falsehood isn't ever revealed, Maker grant that he does manage to remain incognito, or at least, that he leaves the name Jowan behind him."

Elissa thought about the note. "I think he will. I think he wants to put all of this ugliness behind him."

"Very fortunate for him that he can. Many of us cannot."

"Isn't that the truth?" she sighed.

Elissa emerged from the Fade that night, her heart pounding, her stomach roiling. Despite Leliana's comforting presence right beside her, despite the very pleasant memories that they had made just before they went to sleep, the Archdemon had still seen fit to torment her in the Fade with a vision of itself ordering the darkspawn about. The Blighted creatures had been marching in some abyss—presumably the Deep Roads—growling, spitting, defecating everywhere that they went. Some of them bore weapons and poles with the skulls of their enemies attached. Some of them carried poles with rotting dwarven heads attached. It was a torrent of filth, marching, marching...

And then, Maker curse it all, but Elissa was hungry. The foul dream had been disgusting, but it had somehow not destroyed her Warden appetite. She forced herself to focus on Leliana in the moonlight, to cast out the loathsome memories of this dream. Otherwise she was not sure that she could get her food down, even with her hunger.

Sighing, she pulled some nightclothes on and crept out of the room, quietly pulling the door to, and tiptoed down corridors and stairs to the Redcliffe larder.

There was food in plenty, at least, and she knew that she was allowed to help herself. She made a platter of cheese, fruit, buttered bread, and cold meat, pouring herself a cup of wine as well in the hopes that this would send her back to a calmer sleep.

As she was finishing her midnight snack, and finally felt her hunger being quelled, she heard footsteps. They grew louder—and Elissa was not entirely surprised when Alistair rounded the corner, also heading for the kitchen. He chuckled quietly when he saw her.

He emerged with a platter of nothing but cheese, which also didn't surprise her. Seeing it made her decide that, perhaps, she could top her snack off with another nibble. She went back into the kitchen and returned with an apple.

When they were finally finished eating, Alistair leaned back and sighed. "I had the worst dream."

"The Archdemon leading darkspawn in the depths?"

"Yes," he muttered. "You too? Same one?"

"We can't know for sure, of course, but it sounds like it."

He shook his head. "It's mustering its army."

That, Elissa thought, was obvious. And we need to muster ours.

"Look," Alistair said, leaning forward, his face suddenly terribly serious. "I meant to tell you some things about being a Grey Warden, before you went off to search for Andraste's Ashes."

"I remember. If you want to now... I guess you might as well. The Blight is deepening. I think the dreams are getting worse." She shuddered. "That one seemed awfully real. I know it was the Fade, but still... sometimes what we see in the Fade reflects something that really happened."

Alistair nodded. He looked very sad. "And some Wardens are more sensitive than others... though it probably gets all washed out during a Blight. But ultimately... everyone ends up the same."

Elissa felt a chill, though she could not explain why. "What do you mean, 'the same'?"

"Once you reach a certain age, the real nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come."

Her eyes widened. "The Joining... kills us? But I thought it made us immune." Oh, Leliana, she thought, her heart breaking for her new lover.

He shook his head. "It does... for a time. But it is always a death sentence in the end. It becomes too much. It's said that the Warden starts to hear the song of the Old Gods, like the darkspawn do. When that occurs, it's known as 'the Calling.' Then... they go to Orzammar to die in battle rather than turning into a ghoul. It's tradition."

Elissa brought her hand to her open mouth, horrified.

"That's the other reason why we keep the Joining a secret from new recruits," he said bitterly. "No one would volunteer if they knew the truth."

Elissa sank back onto her chair, gazing ahead blankly but not focusing. Just when she thought that her life was starting to have some joy in it—just when she had found someone she really loved, and who loved her back for who she truly was—just when she had had her faith in the Maker restored—and, yes, just when she felt the pleasure of being back in the political game—now this had to happen. "How long do we have?" she croaked, unable to process it.

"It varies. Ten to thirty years... though during a Blight, that can be a lot less. But," he said quickly, "the Blights all lasted over a decade, some much longer. If we can end this one before it really begins, we might get the full thirty."

"We end the Blight by slaying the Archdemon." She knew it, but she wanted him to confirm.

"Yes."

Elissa was instantly resolved to kill that vile, Tainted dragon that had just tormented her sleep as soon as she possibly could. This Blight was not going to last decades. She would end it quickly and then... Thirty years, she thought. I guess that isn't terrible. That's longer than I have lived so far. She took a breath. "That dragon is going to die before the year's end, if I have anything to say about it," she vowed.

"That's the spirit," he said, laughing feebly.

She heaved a breath. There had to be a solution to this. The original Grey Wardens had invented the Joining formula. If a Grey Warden could be created with this vile magic, there had to be a way to remove this loathsome outcome. And I have thirty years to figure it out. Or, more likely, to recruit mage Wardens who can figure it out. "Anything else I should know about?" she said.

He turned red. "Well... I don't know that it's an issue for you, since you fancy women... but... um... it's really hard for Grey Wardens to have children. Their own, I mean. By blood. And practically impossible with each other."

Alistair was correct that Elissa was not personally troubled by that, but she was disturbed for him—and for Ferelden. As the implications of it hit her in rapid succession, the outrage she'd felt lately toward Eamon, Cailan, and Maric suddenly grew to include Duncan. He knew that Alistair was the only other Theirin, he knew that this was an effect of the Joining, and he recruited Alistair anyway? she thought in indignation. Maker's breath, did anyone think of Ferelden?

"'Really hard,' but not impossible if the other partner isn't a Grey Warden," Elissa repeated. "That sounds like something that Grey Warden mages could investigate and maybe mitigate. If you do become King, and I become Warden-Commander of Ferelden... if we both survive the Blight... then it'll have to be looked into."

He scowled. "Are you arranging some kind of marriage for me now?"

She shook her head. "No, but a monarch must have an heir." She sighed. "My father was considered for King when Maric was declared dead. I didn't want him to be chosen, because my brother was married to a foreign lady..." Tears came to her eyes at the memory of Oriana and Oren, and the hope that Fergus was somehow still alive. She swallowed hard. Her voice was husky as she continued. "You know how Fereldans can be about that after the Orlesian Occupation. So if my father had become King, I would have been the heir-presumptive. I didn't want it. I knew I would have to marry a man so that I could have heirs. It's necessary, to carry on the tradition of the monarchy."

Alistair fell silent. "Well... if we survive the Blight, it is something to look into."

"That and developing a cure for this 'Calling,'" she said, indignation filling her voice again. "Why do Wardens tolerate that? We've been around for over a thousand years. Why not try to find a cure?"

"It's seen as an honorable death, fighting the darkspawn in the Deep Roads, and the dwarves respect it greatly. Grey Wardens can be very traditional." He gave her a raised eyebrow. "You were just talking about the traditions of the monarchy."

"Yes," she said impatiently, "traditions can provide comfort, stability, and order. But they're not always good, and there's no need for this! I'm going to have mages look into the Calling too."

There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke again. "Duncan was approaching his when he... when he died," Alistair said quietly. "He was having the really bad nightmares. I think he wanted to be the Warden who killed the Archdemon and ended the Blight, though."

"I'm sorry that he didn't get the opportunity, then. It's tough to see someone you care about not get to fulfill their dream."

Alistair nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. He blinked and managed to speak again. "Some Grey Warden traditions are good. Equality among elves, dwarves, humans... men and women... rich or poor... even bastards," he chuckled self-deprecatingly. "And even criminals. Once you become a Warden, what you were before doesn't matter. Have I ever told you this story Duncan told me about a murderer who was recruited?"

Elissa shook her head, wondering where this was going. Perhaps he just wanted to talk about Duncan. She would indulge it.

"Well, it was something that his Warden-Commander, Genevieve, did. A bandit had killed a Grey Warden. A common criminal, a murderer—and the chevaliers had arrested him. So what do you think the Warden-Commander did?"

"You just told me," Elissa said, smiling.

"Oh, right. Yes. She went to them and conscripted the man into the order to replace the Warden that he had killed. One of her own men, and she conscripted his murderer in his place to serve rather than letting him hang. She saw that the man had abilities that could help the Wardens and didn't want to waste his life. Isn't that something?"

Elissa sat back, trying not to stare at him. It was blindingly obvious to her that Duncan himself had been the murderer, and she wondered at the fact that it hadn't occurred to Alistair. He has such a lofty and exalted ideal of Duncan that he couldn't consider the possibility, she thought. But it's very obvious. Well, Duncan would hardly have been the first to reform and become a different person after taking on a solemn responsibility.

"The Wardens certainly exhibit more respect for the common... well, not humanity, but the fact that we are all children of the Maker or the Stone, than any other organization," she managed. "Now we just need to ensure that the Wardens themselves have a fair chance at life."

"I'll drink to that." And he did at once.

Notes: Elissa's current take on the Rebellion at Soldier's Peak is accepted history now. I think the surviving members of the rebellious noble families, including the Couslands, would have readily gone along with blaming it all on the Grey Wardens. And yes, she's a monarchist. I can see characters from privileged backgrounds developing liberal views about mages, elves, sexual minorities, etc., but it's a real stretch to give her modern-world political views. I'm also interested in the concept of Max Weber's "three sources of political authority": tradition/monarchy, the rule of law, and charismatic leadership. As much as I hate to admit it, my AU Caitlyn Hawke is unquestionably the "charismatic leader"... and a budding autocrat, as that so often becomes. With this story, in the political parts, I'm hoping to explore something that's a cross between rule of law and tradition. Ferelden is what amounts to a constitutional monarchy, after all, and it's more stable than Kirkwall—the latter being the type of environment that makes it easy for "charismatic leaders" to take power. Of course, Loghain got awfully close to that in the chaos. ...Like I said, I can really geek out about this if allowed!

After this fiasco, I do think everyone would just want to hush it all up. And yeah, I think Jowan would be made Tranquil at the Circle, and I can't do that. Maybe he will Join the Wardens of Orlais or elsewhere as Levyn, the name he assumes if you just let him go, but my existing "canon" from Spells precludes him from Joining in Ferelden.

I don't think Cailan left a will, or if he did, it stated no preferred successor. (The Landsmeet would still have to approve it, but I'm sure a monarch could express a preference in legal documents.) Even Loghain's side was setting up Cailan as a martyr, so "what Cailan wanted as expressed in his will" would have been a powerful argument for whoever could have used it.

The next chapter will be much more Elissa/Leliana-centric. They're going to Denerim!