Her heart beats painfully against her ribcage. Leliana did her hair in some fancy two piece braid. It is twisted in a bun in the back and held by a blue ribbon that matches the Grey Warden armor. Everyone is in their best armor, strongest and most notable.
The five Wardens stand at the front. They all look rather intimidating and even regal. Arinda notices that she is the same height as Elondo now. She isn't as small as when she first came here. The teenager filled out in many different ways; height being one. She has some muscle mass, nothing too crazy but it is clear by her physique that she does a lot. Moves a lot and fights. Lean but not skinny.
Glancing over, she sees that Ryan looks at each of the group. Instead of speaking, he steps forward and touches Alistair's shoulder. "You lead us, friend. It is your turn."
The man in question swallows but nods. Stepping forward, the young human shakes himself before adopting a firm expression. "We are entering a fight. Not one where we will use our swords… I hope. But, where we use our wits and information." He seems to gain courage. "I know some of you don't like me." He looks towards Morrigan, who keeps a straight face. "But we must act united. The Darkspawn won't care if we argue with each other… so… yeah, let's go!"
There is silence, both Zevran and Arinda snort. The human looks over at them with a pout but soon shows a smile.
They march through the city with Arl Eamon's forces; the man himself went ahead. They as a group are supposed to make a dramatic entrance. It doesn't take long for them to get to the castle. Walking in, they see a group of soldiers and knights. Arinda recognizes the woman at the front and feels her stomach flip.
"Halt! You do not have a right to enter!" Cauthrien states with an air of authority. The woman attempts to take a step forward but to everyone's surprise, Alistair gets in her way.
The man himself isn't a staggering height, but Arinda takes notice of a few things. The man in his regal shining armor almost seems to dwarf the other human. His usual gentle and goofy expression is gone. In its place is something like cold rage. Like a stone, he stares the woman down. "What authority do you think you have?" He takes a step closer, nearly face to face with her. "You do not serve a King nor a Queen. You have no say over any of us."
Rather quickly, the woman blanches. Stepping back, her hand goes to the hilt of her sword. Alistair leans closer and she can make out faint words. "You better hope you are dead when this is over. You allowed someone I care about to be hurt in one of the most disgusting ways. May the Maker have mercy on you, I will not." There is a cutting edge in his tone.
Zevran leans close to her. "Might I say… this new Alistair is very attractive. I wouldn't mind him throwing me around."
Ignoring the man, the group moves forward as the woman remains pale and with her lips pressed in a thin line. She steps back with her head bowed and they head to the large doors. As they get closer, she can hear loud voices. Alistair pushes the doors open and holds his head high. The teen can see the way his hand trembles.
Stepping closer, she touches his palm with her finger. The man looks back and she stares him in the eyes and nods. He turns away and the shaking stops. The voices get quieter as the large group walks in. The Wardens continue deeper as the rest of the group hangs back. Once they are close to the middle, everything is silent.
Arinda looks around and is surprised to see a familiar face with one of the nobles. Cain. The man winks at her before adorning a bored expression with his hands clasped behind his back.
Turning her gaze away, she looks up and sees Loghain and Arl Eamon glaring at each other. The latter turns and walks to the edge of the landing and grips the railing. His expression is fierce. "Lords and Ladies." His words boom around the room even without him raising his voice. He turns his gaze around the room.
"This man, Teyrn Loghain, asks us to give up too much. We lost the King, almost all of the Wardens, and so many of our own soldiers in his fear. Our Traditions, our honor! What else must we give up until he is appeased?!" His arm shoots out and points at the scowling male.
"-And now he wants us to place our people, our lives in his hands. When he has already failed!" Slamming his hand on the railing, Eamon shakes his head. "This shall not stand! We cannot allow it." A large group of people clap or holler with their fists in the air.
There is a long pause and slowly the man in question walks up next to the elder. His dark eyes look over the group, pausing at the Wardens. He turns to look at the man and sneers. "What a way with words." His voice is almost silky, low. His actions are slow, turning his attention to the people below and he looks down his nose at them.
"I would hope no one is foolish enough to fall for them. You would trade a bumbling fool for another and put him on the throne." There are gasps of outrage. "Are you hoping to guide him? Train him? Perhaps give him ideas as he rules?"
"Like you?" Eamon tilts his head up and glares down at the other.
Loghain doesn't respond, instead he turns and looks back at the Wardens. "Here we have the puppet, yes?" He turns and walks, slowly making his way down the stairs as he speaks, voice getting more aggressive. "Tell me prince, when the Orlesians knock at our door, what will you do? What do they want? Will they send an army? What are you willing to give up for Ferelden? Of Ferelden?!"
The silence that rings out is loud.
As much as she does not want to stand out, she can't stop her words. "And how long are you going to stick your head in the ground? Are you hoping the Darkspawn will ignore your one man army against Orlais? Has your anger clouded your judgment and your eyes?" Her voice is low, she is surprised there is no shake or crack. There are so many eyes on her.
Alistair steps forward, all eyes shift to him. "The Darkspawn is the threat we must fight now. Not Orlais, not each other. There are hundreds of refugees rushing to our land in hopes of being safe. The South has fallen. We can't let your fear of Orlais pull us down any longer." His words are soft, but they come out firm.
"Yet you failed in Ostagar. Your order claims it is you and you alone that can defeat the Blight. You ask for soldiers, knights and even Chevaliers. If we allow them to come, to help. Do you expect them to leave? Without wanting something in return?"
"No one would help another nation for no reason, Teryn. But I doubt the Empress would sell her own people to fund a war," Alistair snaps out. He steps forward, next to the dark haired human who stands dangerously close to the throne. It puts the elf on edge.
"Slavery!? There is no slavery in Ferelden! Where have you heard these allegations?" Bann Sighard snaps out in anger and concern.
Surprisingly, Loghain himself is the one to speak up. "We cannot hope to save the Alienage. There are bodies rotting in the streets, sickness plaguing the people. Riots are still ongoing…"
Arinda once more steps forward. "Perhaps if you treated them better than wild dogs in a kennel there would be no riots nor sickness. Or did you forget what happened a year ago to many of their women?" She feels out of body, her voice is filled with barely contained rage. She knows very few will care, they would gladly throw the elves at the darkspawn in hopes of slowing them down.
Loghain turns his attention to her. There is an odd look to him. His eyes quickly flicker away.
"I have done what I could to keep our home safe. To keep our people safe!"
The blond male steps forward, dangerously close to the other and speaks slow. "Are the elves not Ferelden? The peasants and farmers. Whom else would you be willing to throw to the darkspawn for the good of Ferenden?" Alistair turns quickly. "You heard him, did you not? I ask you all, how many people died in Ostagar? The King himself. Was that also for the good of our nation?" Instantly other voices joined, angry and roaring.
"Let us not forget that you also employed someone to poison the Arl!"
The dark haired warrior narrows his eyes but before he can speak, a woman does. "My brother remembers! He was there when an apostate was taken from him. By you Teyrn." Alfstanna all but snarls, leaning over the railing, her bright aquamarine eyes almost glowing with her anger. "He thinks it is his fault, his failure." This time her voice is softer. "He did not fail."
A woman in Chantry robes speaks up. "The Chantry shall not overlook this Teyrn Loghain. Our Templars do the work of the Maker and an offense against them is an insult to the Maker." Her hands remain clasped in front of her. The old woman stares down with a frown, but not anger.
Arinda turns her gaze away as more arguing and loud words follow. As important as this is, she doesn't understand why she must be here for this. She may be a Grey Warden but she is not the leader. Not Ryan.
A soft voice speaks up and the teen turns, catching sight of blond hair done in an intricate braid. It settles into a bun near her nape. Anora walks in with a dress made of silk, purples and soft blue hue. Arinda hates her. There is makeup on her face, light but still noticeable. The world is going to hell, people are starving, her father let her husband die and she was even imprisoned. Yet she has time to find a pretty dress and doll herself up. What happened to her is this human's fault.
"The Wardens speak the truth. My father is no longer the hero that we know of River Dane-"
Stepping forward, the brunet touches Alistair's arm. Holding her head high, she interrupts the woman. "Let us not get ahead of ourselves." A few people gasp at her lack of manners. "Your father is many things, and has done a lot. Both good and bad. He is still the hero from back then, let's not pretend he wasn't once a good man. Be that as it may; it does not excuse everything he has done." Turning her eyes to Alistair, she nods.
"We can argue all day. Debate and bring up everything that happens while the Darkspawn murder, pillage and destroy our land. Ferelden. The land we all swore to protect. I for one don't want that, I want to do what I was sworn to do as both a Grey Warden… and as the next King of Ferelden!" It is an extremely bold claim for the man to make. One that Anora doesn't seem to like, by the scowl on her pretty face.
"I know many of you may not know me, or trust me. But this is one thing you can trust me with. My comrades and I will stop this Blight. We will lay down our lives not just for Ferelden but all of Thedas. I ask you not just the Lord's and Ladies of Ferelden, but as brothers and sisters of this land. Will you not fight with me?"
Deafening cheers follow, soon words echo around.
"I Bann Alfstanna am with the Warden!"
"Arl Bryland supports the Wardens!"
"Arl Wulff of Western Hills is with the Warden and true King of Ferelden." Voice after voice supports them. More screams of people celebrating. In the end, only three people support the Teyrn.
Alistair looks around with a blank face, deep within she can see the awe and shock in the man's eyes. Shaking away those emotions, the man stands taller and stares Loghain in the eyes. "Step down. This does not have to end in bloodshed. I think enough has been spilled this year." His words are spoken tense and through clenched teeth.
The other's face goes from pale to red. It makes Loghain look sickly and possessed. Spittle flies from his mouth as he all but screams, "Traitors! Every last one of you is a traitor to Fereldan." Reaching down, he snatches his sword up and out. His movements have lost his usual grace. Staring at the man, she doesn't feel fear. Just a deep ache, not pity. He does not deserve it. But a person who thinks they are doing what is right only to go full circle. It can be sad.
Alistair in comparison nods his head at those around him. Pulling out his own sword with less flair, he shifts forward. "I have given you mercy. I hope you are prepared."
Arinda steps back and watches, her heart oddly hollow. The fight is anticlimactic. The soon to be King has fought against an assassin, mage, qunari, so many different styles. A literal mad man is nothing. Even if the man was known as a hero and general long ago. It takes less than five minutes and Loghain is huffing and puffing. Kneeling on the ground with his blade out in front of him and Alistar standing over him, the male seems to be waiting for death.
The silence rings out and everyone is waiting. Waiting to see what the other will do. No doubt some want the male's head while others are more political. Seeing what kind of King Alistair will be.
A fool speaks up.
"Wait. I know my father did much… but I beg of you to not kill him." Anora stands firm. Hands still folded and her chin held high.
It takes some willpower to keep from snorting. The woman doesn't seem to know what the word beg entails.
A hum, derisive, comes from Alistair. He turns to look at the woman, eyes steel. "Funny that you had no problem talking about him as someone who lost status before." The words and speech pattern are surprising.
"Thats-"
"You also seem to forget that you have lost your status, Anora. You are no longer a Queen; you're a widow. Men and women have been killed for less… than an actual coup. Lady Anora." As Alistair continues, Arinda has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. Faintly, she can hear someone snickering that sounds like Morrigan and Leliana.
Anora looks as if she sucked on a lemon and stepped in dog shit. Hilarious.
Alistair turns his attention back to the man. There are a few more minutes where nothing happens. He speaks down to Loghain. "I told you that I was done with mercy." Turning, he nods and looks to the crowd. "I now conscript Loghain into the wardens. His life will not be his own; for the rest of it, will be serving the wardens and me."
Her heart stops. Shock has all sound leaving, or perhaps everyone else is just as astonished.
One person claps, then the next. So on until the whole hall is filled with applause.
Before Arinda can comprehend what happened, it is over. She stands in the corner with her arms crossed as she watches Alistair, Ryan and Riordan talk with Loghain. Another person is leaning against the wall with her.
A deep, breathy laugh. "I am almost… proud of him. I did not think him able to speak with such venom. Most intriguing." Morrigan has her head tilted. "A pity he never tried with me." She sounds almost disappointed.
"As much as I know you are a glutton for pain and derogatory remarks. If I had to listen to you two going back and forth one more time we would be down one mage and a warden." The pale female laughs at the teen's words.
"I am… with child."
"Fucking… I am- Con… gradulations?" Arinda chokes on air and then her spit. Turning to look at the other, she is not even looking at her. Morrigan is staring at the men. More so Ryan. Searching the woman's face she can see it in her gold eyes. Love. Her own heart twinges.
Turning her face away, the brunet nods. "I am happy for you… did you do the ritual?"
Morrigan sighs. "My getting pregnant shocks you but a dark ritual with blood, sex and a god you already know." Laughter bubbles up between the two.
Arinda watches as Riordan and Loghain leave. Ryan and Alistair head over. Reaching her hand out, the younger touches the female's stomach and stares up at her. "I hope you know this is more than any of us living through slaying the Archdemon, Morrigan. Your baby will be special. Not because of magic or an old god. I hope you are ready. Your son will become your everything." Before she turns to join the others she sees something she hasn't seen in the other mage's eyes much. Fear.