By Gods Forsaken

by inwardtransience

One day, the shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see. (How do you do a summary for something this big? Total retelling, Mahariel!Warden, mage!Hawke, Dreamer!Trevelyan!Inquisitor, worldbuilding, too many OCs, serious plot edits, primarily F/F.)

33. Orzammar — III

9:30 Molloris 14

Last Watch, Diamond Quarter, Orzammar

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"Lyna," Sedwulf grumbled, sounding a little exasperated, "you have a full court."

Blinking, she glanced down at the cards on the table in front of her. She had the Song of Hope, the Knight of Sacrifice, the Angel of Charity, the Serpent of Hubris, and then a three of bells. It was true she didn't know the rules very well yet, but she'd thought this was a bad hand — songs, knights, angels, and serpents were all worth the same, but songs and angels gave points while knights and serpents took them away. She thought she only had three points total, from the bells. "Is that good?"

A mix of laughter and irritated scoffing went around the table. Pitching his cards down on the table, Wynvir said, "How is it you still kick our asses when you don't even know how to play?"

Lýna shrugged — they hadn't been keeping track, but she was pretty sure Sedwulf and Natí had both won more hands than she had. "Luck, I guess."

Natí let out a little guffaw. "If I had your luck, I wouldn't be here right now."

"I think you do have my luck, as you're still alive." After all, if Lýna did have 'luck', that she'd actually managed to survive the Blight in the south was a much better sign of it than this silly card game. And Natí, if circumstances had even been slightly different, she might well have been executed by now — not to mention how difficult it could apparently be for casteless to survive in Orzammar...

Their newest recruit blinked at her for a second, then shrugged, acknowledging the point.

Since Lýna didn't have much to do in the weeks they had until it was time for the battle at Bónammar, she'd spent the last couple days continuing to outfit her people and refine their training. Though most of it had been focused on Natí, with the additional goal of getting her introduced to all of their people, finding a place for her to fit. It hadn't taken long playing around with the practice weapons upstairs for Lýna to come to the conclusion that she was best suited to the wings, with Perry and the spears, though she was going to take some work.

Natí was talented, certainly, but she'd never gotten training of any kind, her skills picked up through countless fights she'd gotten into over the course of her life. It did mean that her style was very straightforward and deadly, designed to go right for the kill as quickly and easily as possible, but also that there were weaknesses, more in her defense than anything — she was maybe the quickest dwarf Lýna had seen yet, meaning she could dodge pretty well, but she wasn't great at blocking and parrying. Also, she'd never really worked with a group before, that was probably the biggest problem they had to deal with. Especially with where Lýna wanted to put her in her band (whichever she ended up going to, hadn't decided yet), coordinating with the people she was fighting with was absolutely necessary. At least Natí was open to Lýna's comments on that.

Not so much when it came to her basic fighting skills, though. Natí hadn't really explained much, but Lýna had gotten the feeling that she'd done a lot of fighting over the years, that it was a large part of how she'd managed to take care of herself and her sister — and she was proud of her abilities, as she had every right to be. She didn't take Lýna telling her she wasn't good enough very well. It'd taken Lýna beating her in a practice fight, and then when Natí had said well obviously Lýna could beat her, she was the Warden-Commander, Alistair, Keran, Sedwulf, Aaron, who wasn't even a Warden — and even Sidona, who was a mage, and therefore couldn't be expected to know what she was doing with a sword — for Natí to admit that, fine, maybe there were still things she could learn, she got the point, they could stop beating up on her now.

They had maybe been a little rougher than they'd really needed to be, but Lýna had picked up immediately that Natí was... Defensive wasn't quite the right word. She'd been doing things her own way her whole life, and they'd suited her just fine, so she hadn't been open to the idea that she would need to do things differently. Which was fine, that could happen — she'd already run into a similar attitude from Merrick and Halrys — but they had a battle coming up, the quicker Natí got over these things and learned to fight the best she could with the rest of them the more likely she would survive.

Lýna knew she would lose some of her people, they were fighting a Blight (not to mention the Joining itself), but she'd like to keep their losses as low as she possibly could. Even if that meant being hard on them now and then to snap them out of ways that could get them killed. It didn't seem like Natí had taken it too personally, at least, so.

On the topic of the Joining, she'd talked to Solana and Jowan about her ideas, and they agreed trying them out seemed like a good idea, or at least that they couldn't hurt. They didn't have any ideas about how to maybe give people better chances of surviving with blood magic, though — neither of them had enough information about how the taint and the Joining actually worked, they'd have to see it at least once before they could even begin to make guesses. Lýna had plans to bring their people out into the Deep Roads and hunt down some darkspawn, to do a few Joinings before the battle, they'd see how that all worked out.

They'd already done all their training and whatever else for the day, so they were just lingering in the Fereldan Wardens' rooms in the lower levels. Warriors in a band spending time with each other was important for the same reasons learning to fight well together was, but Lýna would admit she maybe hadn't been participating as much as she should so far. At first, her Alamarri simply hadn't been very good, but she also just...didn't get them a lot of the time, which could make it difficult. When Sedwulf had invited her to play Wicked Grace with them this evening — seemingly on impulse, Justien and Wynvir giving him surprised glances — she'd decided she might as well. It wasn't like she had anything better to do in the remaining hours before it was time to sleep.

She was sitting at what had quickly become their game table, with Sedwulf, Justien, Wynvir, Alistair, Perry, Lacie, Edolyn, Natí, and Solana — the table wasn't quite big enough to comfortably fit this many people, they had to be careful holding their cards to not accidentally show them to their neighbors. They weren't alone in the room, Lèlja and Wynne sitting in chairs before the hearth, reading and occasionally chatting about one thing or another, Alim and Jowan huddled in a corner muttering. (She didn't know what that was about, but they'd been good friends since they were children, it wasn't her business.) Others would occasionally pass through on the way to somewhere or other, sometimes stopping to chat for a little, or swiping drinks from the table.

Lýna was trying not to drink too much. They had been here for a while, there'd been plenty of time to get pretty far along, but she was trying to learn this game and actually talk to her people, so. Also, she was aware she could get...kind of silly, when she'd had too much. She already tended to make people uncomfortable, she didn't need to make it worse by, well, getting cuddly, as Alim had put it. Especially since she happened to be sitting between Solana and Edolyn — she hadn't forgotten how quickly Edolyn had stepped away when Alim had (jokingly) warned her, and Solana was so serious and aloof all the time, Lýna doubted she'd react well to Lýna getting too silly. So. She was slightly warm and tingly, but it wasn't too obvious, she thought it was probably fine. So long as their game didn't go on too much longer, anyway...

This Wicked Grace thing wasn't so hard, following a pattern of going around and drawing and setting down cards, trying to get the highest (or lowest) score. There was a lot to keep track of, like trying to guess what kind of hand everyone else might have, but that was too complicated for her while still learning the basics, she wasn't bothering. Besides just the points all the cards were worth, there were also weird rules that still tripped her up — like, having multiple of the same number or whatever, or numbers in a row, those did things to how the score was counted, and there were all kinds of different things, it was confusing. She didn't know what a "full court" meant exactly — one each of the different non-number cards, maybe? — but whatever it was, it meant she'd just won this hand, which, okay then.

They went through several more hands, everyone chatting and teasing around her. Her Alamarri was a lot better than it used to be, but it was going back and forth so fast, and the way their teasing would hint at things rather than outright say it, she was honestly having trouble following the conversation. Though the wine also probably wasn't helping — she hadn't had that much, but...

They were partway through a hand when Lýna caught a flicker of motion in her peripheral vision, glanced up. Alim had stood up, was walking toward the table, the look on his face...annoyed? She glanced back toward Jowan, still sitting in the corner, but he looked kind of amused — not bad news, then, if it were Jowan would be troubled too. Was it about the magic arrows the mages were still working on? She had no idea what the two of them had been talking about over there, it'd seemed like friendly chatting but apparently this sort of thing was just what mages did in the Circles, so what did she know. Wynvir and Justien were snapping back and forth, an occasional comment from someone else, Lýna had lost track of that by now, watching as Alim walked up, coming to a stop not far from the back of Natí's chair.

"Hey Sola, wanna screw?"

Shocked laughter went around the table, a few irritated scoffs, as everyone was immediately distracted from their game by that. Solana frowned a little, eyes still on her cards, and Lýna could feel herself frowning too — she didn't know what Alim was asking, that must be slang she hadn't picked up yet. By some of the expressions on faces (was Alistair blushing?) she assumed it was crude, but.

"Are you serious right now?" Sedwulf said through low, rumbling chuckles, broad dwarven shoulders twitching with it a little.

Alim shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

From by the hearth, voice low and chiding, Lèlja called, "Alim, you can't just proposition a lady like that."

"Pretty sure I just did."

"Uh, Alim?" Wynvir's voice had dropped a little, a wheedling, slightly mocking tone on it, as though pointing out the obvious to an idiot. Pointing at Lacie, "Your girl's right there."

Lacie smirked back at Wynvir, head tilting in amusement. "Alim's a blunt little shit, but he's not blind."

There were some more jokes and scolding going around, but Lýna wasn't paying that much attention, frowning at Alim, trying to figure out what was— Oh! Alim must have asked Solana if she wanted to go off together, she hadn't gotten that until Alistair made a comment about him and Lacie. That was kind of confusing, the more Lýna thought about it. Were Alim and Lacie not together anymore? She hadn't heard anything about that, and watching them there didn't seem to be any sign that something had happened...except for Alim wanting to go off with someone else, she guessed. Lacie seemed more amused than anything, even, smirking and making what Lýna assumed were suggestive comments (they mostly went over her head, but the tone she used made it obvious).

This...wasn't going to be a problem, was it? Lýna would be the first to admit that she...didn't really understand how these things worked, but... Well, back home there'd been a bonded pair there'd been a big mess around, they'd ended up splitting — the elders did allow that if things had gotten to the point that the couple just couldn't tolerate each other anymore, but it didn't happen very often. Lýna had been young at the time, she didn't know what the whole thing had been about, but she was pretty sure it'd involved a second woman somehow. (Nadhiᶅ's mother, she thought, a couple years after her father died, but they'd been young, Lýna didn't know.) She did know things had been painfully awkward for a while, and it'd sometimes even come up years afterward, mostly in the form of little comments that went right over Lýna's head and the occasional tense, uncomfortable silence. As long as nobody was being hurt, it wasn't her business what went on between her people in private — this was a war-band, not a clan, despite Alim's jokes now and then it worked differently — but if it blew up into something that was going to start interfering with her people's ability to work together it would become her business. But she didn't really understand what was going on here, so sticking her nose in might only—

Solana let out a sharp sigh, pitching her cards down onto the table, the mix of joking and lecturing cut off immediately. "Sure, why not." She pushed herself to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor a little, and headed off toward one of the doors deeper into the Fereldan Wardens' rooms, Alim trailing after her.

The room was silent a moment, save for breath and the crackling of the hearth, everybody staring off in the direction the pair had vanished in. Then Perry blurted out, "The hell was that?"

"Shit, sal, don't ask me, these mages are sodding weird." Wynvir twitched, glanced across the table at Lacie. "Um, I mean..."

Lacie smiled back at him. "It's all right, Wynvir — we are sodding weird."

There were a couple nervous chuckles around the table at that. A lot of their newer recruits had been uncomfortable with magic at first — they'd gotten a lot better about it, after over a month of working and living closely with mages, but they still had uneasy moments now and then. "That's, uh, not going to be a problem, is it?" Alistair asked, looking painfully uncomfortable. "I mean, I thought you and Alim were, uh..."

"Andraste's tits, Alistair. They're fucking — there, how hard is that?"

Glaring across the table at Sedwulf, Alistair grumbled, "Thank you, Sed, that's exactly what I wanted to say." He was trying to look annoyed, but Lýna didn't believe it, his cheeks were pinking from embarrassment.

"Oh get stuffed, the way you tiptoe around these things is just tedious. I guess that's the way it goes when you spend half your life in a damn monastery — the way you go stuttering and blushing, I almost think you never hardly seen a woman before Duncan snatched you out of that place."

Alistair's face went even redder, and he didn't respond. "I think it's sweet," Edolyn said, a little edge on her voice, telling Sedwulf without actually saying it to leave Alistair alone.

Sedwulf raised a thick, bushy dwarven eyebrow at her. "Of course you do." He was clearly implying something, but Lýna didn't get it. Whatever it was, Edolyn hardly seemed to react, but Alistair just went even redder, staring down at his cards rather than look at the smirks around the table.

...Were Alistair and Edolyn together? She had a feeling that's what was being hinted at, but Lýna had had no idea. Hmm, they were in the same team, she hoped that wasn't going to be a problem. For that matter, Lacie and Solana were also in the same team, if they were going to have issues over this stuff with Alim...

"That's not going to be a thing, is it?" Justien asked, nodding toward the door they'd left through. "You're okay with that?"

Lacie gave him a crooked sort of look, amused and exasperated at once. "If I weren't, would I have just sat here? No, I can be, hmm, strange, so we have an arrangement."

"Strange? I mean, that's not by business," Edolyn muttered, "never mind, don't answer that."

"No, I don't mind. I have no idea why, perhaps I'm simply peculiar, but my libido switches back and forth. Sometimes I want men...and sometimes I'm in the mood for a woman." She said that last bit in a lower drawl, smiling across the table at Edolyn, soft and warm.

Her face pinching a little, suddenly looking very uncomfortable, Edolyn reared back in her chair slightly, barely noticeable. She wasn't the only one to react either, smirks and chuckles going around the table. Alistair's was the weirdest, his shoulders hunching up a little, glaring even harsher down at his cards — yeah, there must be something going on between them, Lýna would have to ask Lèlja later, she should know.

Lacie broke out into light, bouncing giggles, shaking her head. "Relax, Edolyn, I'm only playing. But no, don't worry about it — I told Alim this morning that I'm having one of these weird moods of mine today, it's fine."

The conversation picked up from there again, asking Lacie about her "moods" — apparently, this was an unusual idea even for people who knew much better than Lýna how these sort of things worked. Before too long the game started up again, and as they played they went on to questions about what went on at the Circle, and very intrusive questions, which led into the others talking about their own things, and it was all very uncomfortable.

It was kind of reminding her of those times she'd gone ranging with Avvar warriors, honestly. Her People didn't tend to talk openly about these things, it was seen as...disrespectful, sort of (she wasn't sure of the right word), but Avvar were different. There was a time when her clan and some Avvar (mostly from Stone-River Hold) had been travelling together, and with so many darkspawn around nobody had gone very far alone, Lýna sticking with a group of warriors, and... Well. They talked very openly about it, in a way she'd simply never heard people do before. It'd made her extremely uncomfortable at times. Though, this wasn't quite the same, the talk at the table was... She didn't know, the tone was just different, she couldn't put her finger on how exactly.

When Wynvir just came out and asked about her (which seemed rude, but what did she know), Lýna flatly said her husband was dead. She hadn't even been so broken up about Muthallã at the time, they hadn't been close, but by the winces going around the table she knew nobody was going to turn this talk on her again, which was exactly the result she'd wanted.

Lèlja and Wynne's conversation by the hearth paused, Lýna noticed Lèlja glance her way for a second. She was the only person here who knew anything about Muthallã, so she'd probably guessed what Lýna had done there, but she didn't say anything so that was fine.

But her attention being drawn to Lèlja for a second was making her think. She didn't know how these things worked, the Alamarri's ways were still very new to her sometimes, and she...didn't understand. She was still confused, these however many days it'd been hadn't really helped... Well, they had, in some ways, but there was only so much she could accomplish just thinking about these things on her own. She couldn't know for certain whether she might want to...do something, if she didn't know what that something would even be. There had to be rules and, and, she didn't know, different ways people went about it, but she didn't know any of it, and at some point she did kind of need to.

She didn't know if that point was now, but...having the knowledge before actually needing to use it was just the smart thing to do, right?

Right.

She needed to talk to Lacie in private, then.

Her moment came when the game finally started breaking up — it was getting pretty late by now, some of them at least wanted to be getting to bed. While Wynvir gathered up the cards, the others milling around and talking for a moment before going their own ways, Lýna walked up to Lacie, getting her attention with a touch on her arm. "Come with me, please." Lacie gave her a curious look, but Lýna was already walking before she could say anything, leading the way deeper into their rooms.

She didn't look back the whole way to her room, but she could hear Lacie following her, herself keeping silent. Before too long she was stepping into the semi-darkness — it'd only taken a couple days for the servants (slaves, but she preferred not to think about that) to realize she'd left the lamps dim on purpose. It was still light enough to see without any problems — at least for her, it might be harder for humans — though she'd need to turn one of them up if she was trying to read. The glinting of the light against the metal bits had been bothering her after too long looking at it, this helped.

Lacie passed through the door a couple seconds after, Lýna closed the door behind her. Her head tilting and eyes narrowing in a confused frown, glancing around the shadowy room, Lacie asked, "Ah, and what is this about, exactly?"

"I want to ask you about something."

"Uh...?"

Was it just her, or was Lacie acting weirder than usual? Oh well, it probably wasn't important. Lýna plopped down into one of the chairs, waited for Lacie to join her — she didn't, still standing a few steps inside the door, eyes flicking from Lýna to somewhere deeper in the room and back again. Okay, then. "It's that... This is uncomfortable, and I don't...know how to ask. I've never talked of these things, and the words..."

"Okay." Lacie twitched into motion, silently slinking over and sinking into the chair nearest to Lýna's. Crossing her legs at the knee, leaning against one arm of the chair, she said, "Go ahead and ask, then. I promise I'll be understanding about any awkwardness."

"I don't know how—" Lýna cut herself off with a sigh — a large part of her trouble asking about these things was that she was so ignorant of how it all worked here that she didn't even know the words to ask. "Like with you and Alim, I don't know how these things work."

She twitched. "Lýna, are you trying to ask me about sex?"

"No. Well, sort of. I mean, not just that, but everything else too. You know, how... Maybe this will be easier if I explain how the People do things first. It is... From what I can see, it's much simpler. See, when we get old enough, the elders will decide who is to be with who. I don't know how they decide this, I assume there are rules and things, but I'm not included in these talks, so I don't know what they think important. If both agree, they wait for a good time — it might be some time, if the..." Lýna didn't know what to call landships in Alamarri. "...if there's nowhere for them to live. But, after the binding, then they are seen together, and—"

"Oh!" Lacie blurted out, suddenly enough Lýna twitched with surprise. "Oh, I think I get what you mean now." Clearing her throat, crossing her arms over her stomach, Lacie pulled her feet up onto her chair, turned to sit kind of sideways — her side against the back rest, knees toward one arm rest, the balls of her feet stuck right near the edge by the other. That did look slightly uncomfortable, Lýna thought, but not that bad, maybe Lacie thought it was worth it to be facing her directly. "Or I mostly think I do, at any rate. I don't imagine anybody is going to try to properly court the Warden-Commander — it is legal for Wardens to marry, I suppose, but they're not exactly considered good prospects. For the most part."

It took a couple seconds for Lýna to figure out what she was talking about. "No no, nothing like that. Though maybe I should learn how that goes, in time, if I'm to live with the Alamarri, but. I mean... Well, you and Alim aren't married."

"No, we aren't," Lacie said, voice dropped a little, her eyes eyes narrowing a little in a frown. "Even if we wanted to, the Chantry doesn't allow mages to marry."

"I know, I still think that's stupid." She could at least see the reasoning to forbid elves and humans from marrying each other, since they couldn't have children together, but how the Alamarri treated their mages continued to make absolutely no sense. "But it isn't about that, I... You know I was married once, yes?"

"Ah, yes. Alim told me. And, um, you did just mention your husband during the game."

Oh right, she'd already forgotten she'd done that. "Yes. So, that is an idea I understand...sort of, I guess Alamarri may do it different. But it is other times, when people are together, but it isn't... I don't know how to say it."

"I get what you mean. It might be a little reassuring to know that the experiences of most people probably isn't that much different from what you're used to. Peasants tend to marry sort of young — not quite as young as Alim says you did, but not much older than that either. How people go about deciding who's going to marry who is just different, in most places. Life in the Circle is not in any way normal." Lacie paused for a second, considering. "Well, it's also different in the nobility and people in certain trades, I guess, but that's another whole complicated set of circumstances that I don't fully understand myself. I was born a peasant and then was brought to the Circle, and the only person from that life I know at all is Solana, so."

Solana, who was off somewhere with Alim right now — Lacie didn't seem bothered by that idea at all, which still seemed a little odd. "I was wondering about that, all of our people are grown and they're not married."

"Well, some of them are...or were, I guess. Your original group, Alim is a mage, Alistair was training as a Templar — their vows conflict with marriage vows, you can only take one or the other — and Perry has a wife and family in Denerim. Keran's nobility, though, it is odd she got to this age without marrying, but maybe she was training as a knight or something, I don't know. Your new people, well, Morden joined the army young, and then he was moving around too much. Halrys just isn't interested in any of it, that can happen sometimes. Edolyn, Cennith, Gailen, and Aiden are all of marriageable age, they just hadn't gotten around to it yet. Merrick was married once, but they split — his former wife remarried, is living somewhere in Highever, their son is with her. Wynvir lost his wife and their infant child to plague years ago, and hasn't remarried. Gwenys, Edrick, and Dairren all lost spouses to the undead, and Gwenys and Dairren both had children who died young. Unfortunately, people losing spouses or children to sickness or violence is just something that happens sometimes.

"I don't think any of our people besides Perry are married presently — some of the Teyrn's men are, actually, but none of the Wardens. But I suspect if they were, they wouldn't have volunteered to join the Wardens in the first place. My point being that the Wardens aren't in any way representative, you know."

...Huh. She had known some of that, but not all of it. She'd known some of their people were rather young, so simply might not have had the chance yet. Edolyn had actually told her that her wedding had been planned for Summerday, but both her parents and her husband-to-be had been killed by the undead. (The impression Lýna had gotten was that she was hurt more by the death of her parents than the man, which did make sense, they hadn't even been joined yet.) Lýna thought she was still the youngest person in their group, but it was possible she was just bad at judging ages on other people's faces, Edolyn, Cennith, and Aiden in particular looked like they were close. Enough that she'd hesitated letting them join, but all of them had lost their families, had no homes to go back to — they might have been just fine on their own, but it'd sounded like it would be difficult for them in any case, so. She knew about Gwenys and Edrick's bonded, but not Dairren's, and not the children Gwenys and Dairren had lost. Or about Wynvir or Merrick. She wasn't surprised about Wynvir, honestly — he brooded sometimes and could be quick to anger, she assumed that was related. Alistair not marrying because he was to be a Templar instead, sure, that made sense, but that Keran and Halrys had just decided not to and everyone was fine with that still seemed strange to her.

Back home, people didn't really have a choice in the matter, for the most part. There were exceptions, though rare. Mẽrhiᶅ in particular planned not to, which was unusual but not unheard of for Keepers. She'd almost certainly have children at some point (she was a mage), but she and whoever the father would end up being wouldn't be bonded — the Keeper had been less than happy about it, but Mẽrhiᶅ had argued that her future children wouldn't need a father, since they'd have all the men in the clan to look out for them, which the Keeper had eventually accepted. (Mẽrhiᶅ told Lýna that her real objection was that the vows she'd have to make at a bonding conflicted with a Keeper's duties to the clan — though she hadn't said that to their Keeper, since she was bonded herself — which Lýna thought was interesting, at least.) But when Lýna thought about it, the humans weren't in any danger of dying out, so it made sense that they were less serious about it.

"Right." That was all...good to know, she guessed. It probably should have occurred to Lýna before to wonder whether there were more families of her people out there they should be taking care of, but at least she hadn't missed anyone. "So, how does it work when... I mean, you and Alim aren't married, and have no plans to be, and— I don't know how this works."

Smirking a little, Lacie drawled, "Well, unless you want to know about the salacious details, I'm not sure what—" She suddenly cut off, eyes widening in surprise. "Hold on. Lýna, are you asking me about this because there's someone you're thinking about starting something with, but you don't know how to go about it?"

Despite how uncomfortable this whole conversation was, Lýna oddly aware of Lacie's eyes on her in a way that made her want to squirm, she couldn't help feeling faintly relieved by Lacie putting that together. Lýna was terrible at making herself understood sometimes, and she didn't have Alistair or Morrigan on hand to translate for her... "Yes, that's exactly it. Or, mostly — I don't know how these things go, so I'm not sure if I want to yet."

Lacie silently stared at her for a moment, slowly blinking, her head tilted at a contemplative angle. "Is it Leliana?"

Lýna probably should have known Lacie would guess that — she hadn't missed the comments some of her people had made about the two of them when they thought she wasn't listening. But she hadn't really intended to be talking about Lèlja specifically, the thought making her feel uncomfortably exposed — she kind of wished she was wearing her armor right now, which was silly (especially since Lacie was a mage, so it wouldn't offer that much protection anyway) — Lýna's eyes flicked away to stare at the wall, resisting the urge to fidget. "Yes."

"Well, that might be...complicated. I mean, I don't blame you for it, she is very pretty and, well, you know." Lýna didn't know, actually. "I just wouldn't myself. She uses Chantry language a lot. I get that might not bother you, since you didn't grow up with it, but I find it off-putting — not day-to-day, I mean, but it's just not something I find attractive in a person, you know. Maybe this is just me, but there's nothing less sexy than the Chantry."

"Darkspawn."

"Oh, shut up," Lacie choked, the words barely understandable through giggles, "you know what I mean." Well, more or less — Lýna didn't actually know what the word 'sexy' meant, but it wasn't hard to guess. "But, that's the problem right there, isn't it? She's a Sister."

"She hasn't taken her solemn vows."

Before even beginning with the Chant itself, Lèlja had started with explaining how the Chantry worked, since Lýna would certainly encounter more Sisters and Mothers in the coming months, and eventually even Grand Clerics and the like. It wasn't really that complicated. Mothers ran the individual Chantries, and they were taught at special places of learning (sort of like the Circles, but much less domineering) for the purpose, which usually took a few years. The Sisters Lýna was likely to run into — there were other kinds of Sisters, but these were the most common — came to the local Chantry, usually from the community it was in, to assist the Mother and serve the people there. It could be a temporary thing, it wasn't unusual for women to spend a few years with the Chantry before leaving to marry, but if they wished to serve their whole lives they in time took something called solemn vows, and were then dedicated to the Chantry for life — like Mothers or Clerics or Templars, they couldn't marry, and there were various other things, it was complicated. The solemn vows weren't necessary, sometimes Sisters served for the rest of their lives without ever making them. Sometimes Sisters would go on to become Mothers — Lèlja said the Dorothea she mentioned sometimes had started as a Sister, and had never even gone to seminary, promoted up after several years' experience instead — but many stayed Sisters their whole lives.

The point being, Lèlja might be a Sister, but she hadn't given the oath that would set her into the role for the rest of her life. She could leave the Chantry whenever she wished, and do whatever she wished. If she had taken her vows, she probably wouldn't have left Lothering with them in the first place — though she did still consider herself a Sister, despite having left the Chantry in the sense of the physical space. (Which made perfect sense to Lýna, it wasn't as though their god could only find them in their temples.) Unlike the proper Sisters and Mothers, who had restrictions on their lives Lýna still thought odd, Lèlja's role reminded her more of Avvar shamans...or like she was her Wardens' gyðja, she guessed. A far more familiar thing, in any case.

"Yeah, I know that, but..." Lacie let out a sigh, one hand coming up to scratch at the side of her neck. "There are a few problems that might come up, but... Well, some of these are uncomfortable to talk about, and, I don't mean any insult to you, or to Leliana, I'm just trying to explain. Okay?"

That sounded like an ominous start, but Lýna could probably guess what these issues were going to be. Might as well get it over with. "Okay."

"Well, to start with, the Chantry doesn't really...look kindly on elves? I mean, a lot of them think of it as a human faith, that elves are outsiders to it by definition. You know, Alim and I didn't have surnames before being brought to the Circle, they gave us both an old term for elven converts — supposedly it's from an elvish word for singing, referencing the Chant, you know. Anyway, that kind of attitude is really common in the Chantry, you'd be shocked the awful things some Mothers—"

"Oh!" Lýna realized she'd cut Lacie off in mid-sentence. "Sorry, I just figured it out, Surana, śýlèna — not the same, but I can see it might come from there. But, this is not a problem. I know the Chantry can be stupid about elves, but Lèlja disagrees with this."

"Lýna, there's a difference between beliefs about... Well, one can believe elves are children of the Maker and still think relations between elves and humans are deviant. Not to mention, you are both women, and the Chantry doesn't have kind things to say about that either..."

She sighed — this was starting to get irritating. She realized Lacie was only trying to be helpful, but none of this was in any way relevant to the circumstances. "She kissed me."

Lacie twitched, her eyes widening. Her voice coming out in little more than a gasp, "No!"

...Lýna didn't know what that reaction was about. Just saying no like that would normally be a bad reaction, but it didn't quite look or sound like it. "Yes, truly."

"Oh, that's—" Twisting out of her awkward sitting position, Lacie leaned closer, arms folded on her arm rest nearest Lýna, her face pulling into a grin. "I had no idea! When did this happen?" The words came high and bright now, bouncing a little, so definitely not a bad reaction, then.

Which didn't mean it wasn't an uncomfortable reaction, but this was uncomfortable to begin with, so. Again trying to control the urge to fidget, still staring at the wall rather than look at the other woman, Lýna muttered, "Ah, on the road north, from Redcliffe. Outside Grenford, I think it was called."

"Mm, I think I remember that night — when Alim and I came back you two were gone. We thought you'd gone for a lesson on the Chant, though."

"We did. This was after."

A low guffaw was pulled out of Lacie, thick and surprised. "I can't imagine that, personally, but whatever works for you." Her mouth opened to say something else, but she cut herself off, let out a little huff. "Ah. I'm not going to ask about the kiss itself — I'll definitely listen if you want to talk about it, but I'm guessing you wouldn't be comfortable with that—" Good guess. "—but I am wondering how... I mean, what happened after? If you're here asking me how to get with her, it must have...not gone perfectly well."

The skin along the back of her shoulders crawling, she crossed her arms to stop herself from reaching for it — which probably made how uncomfortable she was obvious anyway, but it wasn't like rubbing at it would actually make it stop. "I ran away."

Lacie let out a little surprised huff. "You ran away?"

Yes, she knew she was silly, Lacie didn't have to look at her like that. "It... For this, my People don't... I would be cast out, if the elders of my clan knew. I'm far from them now, and I will never go back, it doesn't matter, but... I was scared."

For a moment, Lacie just stared at her. Her expression was hard to read — it didn't help that Lýna wasn't looking directly at her — soft but blank, distant. "It's honestly hard for me to imagine you frightened."

Lýna sniffed. "I'm frightened often enough. I simply don't let it slow me. I'm used to maybe dying if I make a mistake, but that was...different." She'd become accustomed at quite an early age to the thought that she'd most likely be killed by darkspawn one day (or kill herself with her father's knife before they could drag her off) — since long before becoming a Warden, but that had made it all but a certainty now. But, for all that the clan might not have been entirely at ease with her presence among them for most of her life, she'd never once feared they might cast her out. When that fear struck her, well, she wasn't used to keeping her head through that one.

Which really was quite silly. Honestly, she didn't expect she would ever see any of them ever again, what they might think of her now was completely irrelevant.

She still wasn't looking directly, but Lacie looked almost sad, for some reason. Didn't know what that was about. "I guess that makes sense. The Dalish don't like the idea of their people getting with humans, do they."

"No." That was an understatement, really. "Or Andrastians, even be they elves. Or two women together, truly they wouldn't like any of this."

"Yeah... Is that going to be a problem? For you, I mean — there's no point to trying to talk to Leliana about it, if you're not...going to be able to get past that."

Lýna sighed. "That is why I ran away."

"Obviously, I mean—"

"I know what you mean. I don't know..." She wished they would get back to what she actually wanted to talk about. Lacie probably couldn't help if she didn't know what was going on, but this was just unnecessary. "She followed me, when I ran, and... I said I needed to...to think."

"Oh, good. I was going to say before anything can happen you'd have to apologize to Leliana for that night, and that might not go well, but if you've already talked about it, then I guess we don't have to worry about that."

...Lýna probably should apologize anyway — in retrospect, running away like she had might have been...insulting. Honestly, she hadn't been thinking about how it might look to Lèlja at the time, she'd just needed to get away. Lèlja had already said she didn't need to apologize for needing to think, but... "Anyway. It is...complicated. Why I want to know of...how these things go, is because I can't know if it's something I want to do if I don't know how it goes. This other stuff, this is outside, it's not why I'm talking to you now."

"Right, that makes sense," Lacie said. "Assuming I understand what you're trying to say correctly — sorry, I'm trying, your Alamarri is really quite good now but being uncomfortable and distracted doesn't help. I think I get it, though. You want to know how a relationship with Leliana might go, so you can make an informed decision about whether or not it's something you actually want."

And Lacie had finally caught up, good. "Yes, that's it."

"Right. Unfortunately, there's no simple answer to that question. I mean, it can be a lot more..." Lacie let out a thin little sigh. "For normal people in normal situations, things can be very straight-forward, you know? There are directions people's lives are expected to take, so there's clear expectations for their relationships. You know, courtship and marriage and children and so forth. For people who aren't going to be following that path, it's less... Well, it's not expected for two women to be together — or an elf and a human, for that matter — so there aren't expectations for what that looks like, you see?"

"That is not helpful," Lýna said. She heard the irritation on her voice too late to do anything about it.

But Lacie clearly didn't mind, giggling for a second or two before going on. "No, I'm sure it isn't. But it's not really a bad thing when you think about it. I mean, sure, there might not be rules set in stone, but that just means that the only rules there are are the ones you make."

"I don't understand."

"It's quite simple really." Lacie let out a little humm, said, "Let's use my relationship with Alim, as an example. Sure, if we weren't mages, things might have gone differently, but the expected way of things isn't available to us either — relationships in the Circle work the same way anything between you and Leliana would. See, normal people, who might be dancing around the idea of getting together, there are rules they already both know for how the game of courtship is supposed to go and how that leads into marriage, but that isn't in any of our futures.

"Instead we just, you know, teasing and flirting, to express interest in each other, and in time we just talk about it. Alim and I actually had that talk multiple times. A few years ago — we would have been thirteen or fourteen I think, I don't remember exactly — we decided to have sex. We'd been friends for a little while then already, and we'd been dancing around it, and he asked, so why not? We talked about it a little before the first time, just so we both knew what we were getting into — we'd both been fooling around with some of our other friends, we wanted to be clear about it, you know, not being anything other than what it was. But, after a couple years, it started to feel...

"Well, we weren't really friends anymore, we were something else. We had another talk about what we were to each other, and came up with new rules. I stopped seeing other boys but, I thought, with these weird moods I have, it wasn't really fair to Alim that there would be times I just wouldn't want him. So, the rules we came up with were that he's to come to me first, but if I'm in a place I want a woman at the time, he'll go to someone else. Solana was one of his other lovers back at the Circle, in fact — we don't get along, I'd rather it be someone else, if I'm being honest, but it's his body, I'm not comfortable telling him what to do with it. That's Libertarian sensibilities for you, I guess," Lacie drawled, a curl of humor on her voice. "There were a couple women I would see in those times, and he doesn't really like one of them himself, so I guess that's only fair.

"And we've gone on like this ever since, has to be a year or two by now. I realize it might seem very unusual to people who didn't grow up in an environment like the Circle, but it's what works for us." Lacie paused for a second. "Though, I guess if we could marry we'd probably come to a similar arrangement anyway — after all, I doubt being joined in the eyes of the law and the Maker would miraculously stop my weird moods from happening, so."

...Lýna really didn't know what to say to any of that. It was all very foreign, yes, but Lacie already realized that, she did admit that anyone who hadn't—

No, wait. When she thought about it, talking about what they were to each other, the behavior they expected from each other and what they were comfortable with, if she thought about the general idea of doing something like that and not the particulars Lacie and Alim had been dealing with... It actually reminded her a lot of that uncomfortable conversation she'd had with Tallẽ, once. Whether or not they would be bonded in the first place hadn't been their choice — though Lýna probably could have refused if she felt strongly about it, but the elders would have put her with someone one way or another, and at least she'd gotten on with Tallẽ, so — but that didn't... The day-to-day, moment-to-moment details of how they were to treat each other wasn't something the elders could dictate, and that they had talked about. Though, looking back on it, that probably hadn't gone the way it was supposed to either. Lýna had been...less than enthusiastic about certain things. She and Tallẽ had been friends, and...

Muthallã... Did he hurt you?

She hadn't realized it wasn't supposed to be like that.

It was obvious looking back on it that Tallẽ had wanted her, and... Lýna hadn't been frightened, exactly, she didn't think that was the right word. They'd been friends, and she'd been worried that would be ruined forever the first time they, well.

During the walk to Ostagar, she'd had the thought that it was a good thing that Tallẽ had died before — she could remember him as her friend, and not...well, like Muthallã. She'd immediately felt terribly guilty for the thought, the feeling shaking loose all the mixed stuff she'd been holding in from the flight north and Tallẽ and leaving the clan forever, she'd snuck away from Duncan and the others to mourn in private for a time.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad with Tallẽ — he had cared enough to actually ask how she felt about things, which wasn't something Muthallã had ever bothered with. But she doubted she would have ever enjoyed it. The sex, she meant. It was hard to imagine enjoying it, honestly — though, when she thought about it, that might be because when she tried she couldn't help remembering Muthallã — but she was increasingly becoming convinced she just...didn't like men, in that way. She hadn't realized that was a thing that even happened, before, but it did explain a lot. She hadn't enjoyed the kissing, even — it hadn't bothered her, she hadn't minded going along with it (once she'd been certain Tallẽ wasn't going to...push further than she was comfortable with), but she hadn't gotten anything out of it, not like it seemed Tallẽ had.

A couple times, over the last days, she'd wondered whether what Tallẽ had felt kissing her was anything like what Lýna had felt kissing Lèlja. Which was a...strange idea, she didn't know what to think about that.

But if it was, she understood now why he kept doing it.

"So..." Struggling to wrench her attention back to Lacie and their conversation — and not that moment on the beach, the waves gently lapping against the shore, Lèlja's fingers cool from the wind in her hair, her breath sweet and tangy from the mead, soft and warm and— "You're saying I– I should just talk to her. About it."

"Yeah, that's what it comes down to. I can't tell you what anything between the two of you will look like because, well, that's up to you, isn't it?"

...That was the oddest mix of frustrating and reassuring. Frustrating in that not knowing what such a thing was supposed to look like made it much more difficult for her to come to a decision, but at the same time, she didn't really need to make a decision, did she? From what she understood, she wasn't dealing with a flat yes or no on the whole thing, but...a negotiation, with a bunch of points. Less straight-forward, like Lacie had said before, but... "What would we talk about, even? I mean...I don't know what I would say..."

Lacie seemed amused, which was a little annoying — maybe a little overly paranoid, but she couldn't help the feeling that Lacie was silently laughing at her. "Well, that's not something I can tell you either. What do you want?"

She didn't know, honestly. This was all very confusing. The one thing she did know for certain was that, "I want her to kiss me again."

"Ha!" The high, sharp chirp was followed up with light giggles, Lýna glanced that way to find Lacie grinning at her, seemingly trying to stop herself from laughing. Once she'd calmed down a little she took in a long, deep breath, let out in a sigh. "Sorry, I don't mean to— You just surprised me, is all. I didn't think you could even be adorable."

...Okay? Didn't know what to do with that...

Thankfully she didn't have to think of anything, Lacie moved on after a couple seconds. "Right, yeah, that's definitely something you can bring up with Leliana — in fact, say it exactly like that, if you can." Lýna must be missing something, she hadn't thought the way she'd said it was in any way unusual... "The physical aspect of your relationship, shall we say, is something you'd need to talk about, but there are other things too. Whether or not you're comfortable with each other having other lovers, and what the rules for that are going to be. What your long-term plans are for the two of you, if either of you have any. But it's okay if you're not sure what you'll be comfortable with, or if you don't know what you might want a year or two down the road — telling Leliana that you just want her to kiss you again, and you can figure out the rest later, that is an option.

"Though, now that I'm thinking about it, you might want to work out how open the two of you want to be about it. Some people are more private than others — if you don't think you'll be comfortable with Leliana, hmm, being affectionate with you in front of your subordinates, or if you don't want her talking to other people about your relationship, that's something you should be clear about up-front. So she doesn't unthinkingly embarrass you, you know."

She was mostly certain she knew what "affectionate" meant, but unless Lacie was using the word to talk around having sex out in the open (which obviously would be inappropriate), that didn't entirely make sense. "I don't understand. What is embarrassing about this?"

"Lýna, even just talking about her, you're too embarrassed to look at me."

...Good point. "It really is that simple. Just, no rules, talk about it and make them ourselves."

"Yes, Lýna," Lacie said, smiling, "it really is that simple. You needn't agree to anything you're not comfortable with."

Well. That was slightly intimidating, if she was being honest. Which was kind of an odd reaction, but it did kind of make sense — since this was apparently something she could openly negotiate with Lèlja, there was...really no reason to not just talk to her about it. She couldn't help feeling anxious at the thought, which was ridiculous, really, what did she think was going to happen? Okay, no, she knew Lèlja would probably agree — she had sounded...enthusiastic about the prospect, when she'd asked that night — and Lýna knew the elders would disapprove, to put it mildly, but it didn't matter what they thought, Lýna had already left the clan for all intents and purposes, they had to be hundreds of miles away right now. But it wasn't only anxiety. Alongside was a warm, tingly sort of excitement, somewhat numbed from the wine but still recognizable.

She abruptly remembered Lèlja kissing her neck, and tried to hold in a shiver — Lacie was sitting right there...

They talked for a few minutes more, about nothing particularly important, just more about what Lýna might want to go over with Lèlja when she worked up the nerve. On her way out the door, Lacie joked that she would appreciate it if Lýna would put off her talk with Lèlja until early next month — she had a bet going with Alim and Solana, you see. Lýna didn't know how she should feel about the mages making bets about her and Lèlja — the concept wasn't entirely unfamiliar, some of the Avvar she'd known did something similar, but it'd never been directed at her before — but she settled for just rolling her eyes and waving Lacie out of her room.

Lacie was probably going to lose that bet. Lýna didn't know for certain, she'd admit she could be a little bit of a coward when it came to...having emotional conversations with people, but she didn't think it'd take her that long. Now that she knew she wouldn't be committing herself to something with rules she didn't understand, there was only her stupidly irrational aversion to disappointing her elders to get past. And she knew that was stupidly irrational, so she didn't expected that to take very long — especially if thoughts of Lèlja were going to continue intruding on her all the time.

That memory of her kissing and nibbling at Lýna's neck hadn't actually gone away, and now with Lacie gone there was less going on to distract her from it, her hand coming up to her neck without realizing she was doing it, echoes of the sensation shivering down her spine. It'd hit her over the head pretty suddenly, there weren't many... She could probably count on the fingers of one hand the times she'd felt desire that intense before.

One of them had even been for another human woman — she'd run away from Ásta too, of course, if not quite as quickly and abruptly. Lèlja did remind her of Ásta sometimes, she'd noticed that before. Lèlja wasn't quite as tall, but they had similar hair (though Ásta's had been much longer), and the same slightly-absent pleasantness broken with occasional sharp wit and teasing. (Of course, Ásta had been like that because she'd been in constant contact with her spirit companion, being an Avvar mage, but that wasn't the point.) It wasn't a surprise that Lýna liked Lèlja as much as she did, given her long friendship with Ásta, and how similar they were in some important ways.

And Lýna was remembering Ásta sitting on the forest floor, her back against a tree, clothes askew and...smirking at her as she...

Lýna glanced at the door, turned the lock. Normally she'd leave it unlocked, in case anybody needed her for something, but she'd unlock it again before going to bed. She doubted she'd be able to get to sleep any time soon, even with the wine helping her along, too preoccupied with the memories bumbling around in her head, that warm tingly excitement flaring more intense the deeper she sank into distraction. And, well, she had rooms to herself, so there was no reason she couldn't.

She headed toward the unnecessary private indoor bathroom, picking at her yet-unfamiliar Alamarri clothing — she'd never heard herself, after all, she had no idea how well the sound would carry...

---

9:30 Molloris 15

Wycome Embassy, Diamond Quarter, Orzammar

---

When Lýna was told there was a runner at the gates with a message for her, she hadn't been entirely surprised — the Wardens were well-liked in Orzammar, and it was a time of Blight, it would hardly be the first. Most of the messages were pointless, expressions of sympathy for Duncan's death or invitations to meetings with one nobleman or war-leader or another, nothing of immediate use. Lýna had just handed them off to the Captains, who were far more knowledgeable about the people involved. They planned to try to recruit the senders as allies for Bónammar and later the Blight on the surface — Lýna would have to go to the meetings with them, of course, but she thought it was better for people who knew anything about Orzammar and the people who lived here to decide who they should be meeting with and what they should talk about with them.

As Alistair joked, Lýna would just be there to smile and look pretty. As Sedwulf joked, it was more likely she would frown and look intimidating, but that would work just as well.

She couldn't say she was entirely surprised the message was from Bélen, either. It was the first she'd heard from him — either of the contenders for the throne, actually — since the Proving a few days ago. Püröl, she knew, was angry with her for Conscripting Natí, preventing her from being executed for her crimes against their god (which was what the Stone was, if Lýna understood correctly). Sidona expected they'd be contacted by him eventually, but he'd definitely demand some kind of apology for the disrespect Lýna had shown for their ways before he'd be willing to work with the Wardens again. She'd only gotten that one little message from Bélen, and spoken to him briefly while going to pick up Natí — Sidona explained he would avoid being seen in public with her, to avoid making his attempt to claim the throne more complicated than it had to be.

Which didn't mean that Bélen didn't intend to meet with her in secret. The message she was given was just a small slip of paper, like the one she'd gotten at the Proving. Her reading still wasn't excellent, she would check with Solana later to make sure she'd gotten it right, but it was an invitation to talk at the... Well, Lýna didn't know what that word was, but she was pretty sure that one said "Wycome" — he probably meant one of the big buildings the various human kingdoms owned, just north of Last Watch. She should meet him there an hour after lights-out, tonight. They shouldn't wear anything to identify them as Wardens, and one of the doors in the south-side alley would be unlocked, don't come in through the front gate. Okay, then...

She was a little surprised that the message-bearer was casteless — she'd thought the nobles didn't trust casteless with important things like secret messages inviting people to secret meetings. But then, she'd already been given the impression that Bélen was hardly an ordinary dwarven noble.

It turned out, it was actually pretty easy to tell when it was day or night in Orzammar: the lamps and globes would be covered with shutters, cutting off the greater part of their light. The shadows that always clung around the edges of the city would grow even deeper, reducing the blocky structures around the Way of Diamonds to half-seen shapes looming in the darkness, the lanterns still marking the road with a line of dim lights but doing little to reveal anything beyond. There were still people about — on this level, mostly warriors patrolling the road, but the dwarves' forges and such never fully stopped working — many of them carrying little glass jars of firewater, their presence from a distance like little planets wandering across the black of the night sky.

Lýna still didn't know how they decided when night was supposed to be, though — it wasn't like they could see the sun from down here. Sidona said the shades on all the lamps were controlled by enchantments, they closed or opened at specific times of day, but even she didn't know if those times were actually sunset and sunrise. But she guessed that didn't really matter. If it were out of sync, their sleep might be off when they finally left for the surface again, but that would only be a minor inconvenience.

In the hours she had before it was time to leave for the meeting, she considered who exactly she wished to bring with. Not Fergus, she decided early — she remembered the warrior at the gates had warned him any meetings with the leaders of the city would be watched closely, having secret meetings probably wouldn't be taken well. After a bit of thought, she also excluded Sidona, Iaşneru, and Reynaldo, didn't even tell them what she was up to. Lýna wouldn't be staying in Orzammar for long, but the Captains would be, she didn't want to get them involved in anything that would make dealing with the dwarves difficult after she'd left. Involving them with the open, daylight meetings was fine, but sneaky things seemed like it might make trouble for them, best to leave them out of it.

Solana was definitely coming — of her people Solana knew the most about the dwarves, and also Lýna had been telling people she was her second, it would be inappropriate to not bring her with. (She wasn't her second, truly, as Lýna understood the concept, but that wasn't the point.) Besides her, Lýna had to be careful who she brought with. She suspected Bélen wanted their help doing something underhanded to beat Püröl and become King — as much as Lýna was...ambivalent about Bélen so far, she didn't want to bring along anyone too 'honorable' who would make a fuss about it. So not Alistair, or Keran. Lèlja might object, though the dwarves would probably also find her Maker talk offensive. Not Halrys or Morden either. Definitely not Wynne, and Morrigan probably wasn't a great idea for other reasons.

In the end, she decided on Perry, Edolyn, and Sedwulf. They would only need a small group — it was unlikely they'd get in a fight at all, but just in case — and this one was hardly ideal. For one thing, they didn't have any archers...besides Lýna, but her job if they did get in a fight would be to guard Solana, since Sedwulf would be occupied as their only shieldbearer, so she wouldn't be able to focus entirely on that. But it was the best set-up she could think of, given the skills and temperaments of her people. Unless she wanted to bring a much larger group, which might not be taken well, and then she'd have even worse difficulties collecting people who wouldn't interrupt...

Yes, this would just have to do. Hopefully nobody tried to attack them, because Lýna was less than confident that would go well.

It wasn't until they were finally on their way out, stepping into the moody darkness of the city, that Lýna realized this group was similar to their initial group of Wardens, the one they'd taken the Tower with — a spear instead of a second shieldbearer, but that was the biggest difference. Huh. Lýna hadn't been entirely happy with their balance then either, and they had had soldiers backing them up, but still. Edolyn, Solana, and Sedwulf didn't have the advantage of the Joining, but maybe they'd be fine anyway.

With all the lamps and such shuttered, it was much darker in the city, but Lýna didn't have any trouble seeing where she was going — the light was insufficient to illuminate much, but it wasn't any darker than a forest at night. Outside the dimly lit trail on the road, the colors were all washed out, their surroundings looming and shadowy, she might not be able to make out much in the way of detail but she could make out the general position and shape of everything without too much trouble.

The same was not true of the rest of her group, apparently. She knew humans had worse eyesight than elves, especially in the dark, but it was just something she was vaguely aware of, she didn't think about it that often. Obviously, since she couldn't see it for herself, she didn't know what the world truly looked like to humans. But she didn't have to ask to realize they were far more blind than she was. They were carefully clinging to the center of the lighted path, clumped rather closer together than they might normally, their steps a little more cautious. When they got to Wycome's embassy — Lýna couldn't tell them apart, but Solana knew all the banners — turning off to the alley, the others slowed to a crawl, picking forward a few lengths into the deeper shadows before coming to a complete stop. Sedwulf complained he couldn't see a thing, Solana asked for Lýna's permission before casting light a soft, gentle green.

Which was definitely giving away their position, but Lýna hadn't known how bad it was until she'd turned around at Sedwulf's comment and seen that he wasn't going straight down the alley, he would have bumped into a wall if he'd kept going. It was slightly baffling to her that the others' eyesight was truly that bad — she could make out the general shape of the alley just fine. She hadn't noticed the Avvar she'd known being quite that blind in the dark, but maybe they were just more accustomed to compensating for it...

A short distance down the alley — it was hard to tell, the presence of the magical light sabotaging Lýna's ability to see through the darkness beyond, but the edge of the cavern wasn't that far away — and they eventually found a door. Back at Last Watch, Solana had guessed they were looking for a servants' entrance, which must be what this was...though Lýna still wasn't certain why the servants couldn't just go through the front gate, it hadn't seemed worth asking about. They must have eyes outside somehow, Lýna hadn't even quite gotten up to the door before it was creaking open — a pair of dwarven warriors stood just inside, their armor in red and gray and gold, Bélen's colors.

Lýna didn't doubt this was meant to be a servants' entrance: after confirming they were who the dwarves were waiting for, they were led through hallways and rooms that were far more modest than Lýna had seen from Alamarri leaders back at Redcliffe, mostly undecorated, storerooms and kitchens. (Though she suspected Wycome wasn't an Alamarri kingdom, she wasn't entirely certain what different human groups there were out there.) Eventually they came to a dining hall, though a very modest one — the surfaces plain stone, even the table and benches, all rather roughly-hewn, the light provided by a few lamps, the frames unornamented bronze. There were a few little sketches carved into rock here and there, but not done as part of any clear pattern, apparently nothing but the fidgeting of idle hands.

There weren't many people in the room. Most were a handful more warriors armored in the Prince's colors, with the exception of one wearing blue and silver instead, who Lýna recognized as Vartag, Bélen's second. Bélen himself was seated at the table — somewhat slight by dwarven standards (which meant he was still very thick and sturdy relative to elves), dark blond hair with just the slightest reddish tint to it cropped short on the top of his head (though somewhat longer than many dwarves Lýna had seen, still only a couple finger-widths) but left to grow long from his face, twisted into multiple intricate braids extending down to rest against his breastplate, decorated with strings of beads in red and white and glittering gold. Normally, dwarven eyes were small enough that Lýna didn't tend to notice them much, but Bélen's were such a bright blue they were hard to miss.

Peculiarly, there was an unarmored woman in the room, her hip propped against the table not far from Bélen. She was dressed in what Lýna recognized as relatively expensive clothing — that slightly shimmery-looking cloth was silk, which was only made far, far to the north, accents done in silver glittering here and there (like what Lèlja had done with Lýna's justaucorps for formal meetings), over her shoulders a furred cloak for warmth — with bright red hair, more orange in at than Alim's but not so far different, let to grow long, kept mostly loose but held out of her face with a pair of braids, pinned into her hair a glittering ornament of some kind Lýna didn't recognize. She was completely unarmored and unarmed, which was peculiar, she'd been given the impression the dwarves of Orzammar hardly ever left their homes empty-handed — supposedly, a lot of women rarely left their homes at all, which made Lýna feel unsettled for reasons she couldn't put words to, but it wasn't her business. The way she looked, too soft and delicate (for a dwarf), this woman definitely wasn't a fighter, it was weird she was here.

Lýna noticed the blueish mark of the casteless on her cheek, and was suddenly even more confused. Come to think of it, she looked vaguely familiar...

"Ah, Wardens, good, come in." Bélen didn't bother standing, though the warriors and the woman visibly straightened. "I'm sure you remember my second, Vartag Gavór..." Bélen went on to name all of the warriors with him, each acknowledging them with those clanging dwarven salutes — Lýna expected she would remember none of the names, dwarven faces looked too similar to her to begin with and Bélen and Vartag were the only ones not wearing helmets. As Lýna had noted before, his Alamarri was perfect, without even the hint of the accent the other Orzammar dwarves she'd spoken with had. "And this is Ríkja," he finished with a nod to the woman, offering no further explanation than that for her presence.

Following his lead, Lýna named all her people as well. There were a couple double-takes when she got to Sedwulf — the name was Alamarri, they might have assumed he was an Orzammar dwarf — but nobody interrupted. "Your message said you wish to talk of the Blight with me."

"In a manner of speaking," Bélen said, his voice dropping into a rumbling drawl. Lýna was terrible at reading dwarven voices, she simply hadn't known enough dwarves, but she thought that was supposed to be a note of humor. "But before we get to business, Ríkja here wanted to speak to you."

Lýna turned to the dwarven woman, her head tilted curiously, but Ríkja had looked away at the same time, muttering what she suspected was thanks in their language before turning back to Lýna. "I'm sorry if this is out of place, Commander, but I wanted to know, is Natí all right? I know you took her from the Hall of Justice, but I haven't heard any news since."

Well, that was only a few days ago, there hadn't been much going on yet. And she wasn't sure why this woman cared about that — Natí was to be a Warden, whatever obligations she had before were irrelevant, and certainly no concern of someone who—

Take care of my sister, and I'll do it gladly.

"Oh! You're Natí's sister." A couple of her people twitched with surprise — Solana, she noticed, was giving Bélen a narrow-eyed look.

"Yes. I didn't... Well, she didn't tell me she was about to do something so stupid as sneaking her way into the Proving, she must have known she would get caught, I don't know what she was thinking..."

There were a few clinks of shifting armor as some of the warriors fidgeted — given how sensitive many dwarves could be about their traditions, Lýna assumed they didn't like Ríkja's only objection to Natí's breaking them being that she would be caught — but none of them said anything about it. "She is well. Wynne healed her injuries, these days she's been equipped and trained. When I left Last Watch, she was playing Wicked Grace with some of my people." It probably wouldn't be wise to say Natí had done what she'd done for Ríkja — she owed people in the Carta a lot of money (Sidona had someone working on getting into contact with this Berát person), she'd been desperate to pay it off.

...

Because Ríkja was pregnant by some nobleman. Upon the child's birth, Ríkja and Natí would likely be brought into the father's household, and they wouldn't have to worry about how they would survive anymore. But if Natí didn't pay off the debt, the Carta might well force Ríkja to miscarry, likely injuring her in the process, and who knew what else. To stop that, Natí had seemingly been willing to do almost anything.

Lýna glanced at Bélen. He was still sitting at the table, and hardly seeming to be paying the conversation much attention, fingering the mug sitting in front of him. He'd brought Ríkja here with him.

...Huh.

That was interesting. Now Lýna was in a position she either had to support Bélen or simply not support anyone at all — if she backed Püröl, she imagined that could make things with Natí...complicated. Not that that was new, exactly. She was told Püröl would demand an apology for Conscripting Natí, and Lýna would not apologize for recruiting Wardens where she could find them with a Blight on. But even if she hadn't already been in that position anyway... Well, she imagined the fact that one of her Wardens' sister might soon share a child with the King could be quite useful.

(There was no alliance tighter than blood, after all.)

They talked about Natí a little longer, Ríkja effusively thanking Lýna for saving her sister. Lýna realized she definitely had to be careful with the Joining, Natí dying could be damaging to any future alliance with Bélen, hmm. After some short minutes, Bélen asked the others for the room, Ríkja and a few of the warriors walking out and closing the door behind him — the remainder sat at the table next to Bélen, Vartag at his right hand. The Wardens sat opposite them, Lýna directly across from Bélen, Solana at her right and Edolyn slipping in on her left.

She'd actually had to push forward and cut off Sedwulf to get there first, Lýna shot her a confused glance as she sat. While she didn't think it was a problem, exactly, Lýna sometimes found Edolyn's behavior toward her confusing — as far as she could tell, Edolyn was just especially eager, but she didn't really get what was going on with moments like this one right here. As long as Edolyn kept doing her job, though, Lýna guessed it didn't really matter.

(It almost looked like personal loyalty, but that couldn't be right. Lýna hadn't even done anything to earn that from her yet.)

Drinks were poured and passed around. They called it ale, but it was totally black, usually Alamarri ale was much paler than that. It smelled sharper and sourer than Lýna was used to, she took a somewhat tentative sip — and immediately gagged, slammed the mug down and pushed it a little farther away from her, struggling to hold in the urge to vomit. It was vile, actually tasted rotten...which was odd, she hadn't realized ale could even go bad. Ugh, her mouth was burning...

The dwarves all laughed, deep and booming, armor clinking as their shoulders rose and fell. "Too strong for you, Commander?" asked Vartag, smirking.

"That is one way to say it." Did they actually like this? Had dwarves lost all taste at some point? Edolyn made a face when she took a sip, but her reaction wasn't nearly as bad Lýna's. Maybe she was just particularly sensitive to something in it...

But Perry let out a little blech noise, pushing the mug away from himself with a disgusted shiver — right, it was an elf thing, then.

Bélen was smirking a little — less obviously than Vartag, but it was still there — but when he spoke his voice was perfectly mild. "It does often take surfacers some time to get used to proper dwarven ale. We could track down something else for you — I'm sure there must bottles of wine sitting around the ambassador won't miss."

"It's all right." Lýna wasn't here for the drinks, there was no need to go through the trouble. Besides, if she was going to be drinking wine, she'd rather it be in the safety of Last Watch, where she didn't have to worry about unthinkingly having too much. "You asked us here to speak with me of something."

One of Bélen's thick eyebrows stretched upward. "Straight to business, Commander?"

"Why not? There's a Blight on, you maybe heard."

"I might have picked up on a rumor about that," Bélen drawled, lips curling. "Ruin is not so imminent that we can't delay for a couple minutes, but I understand your sense of urgency. Let us get right to it, then." Setting his mug down, he folded his hands on the table, leaning forward over his arms, bright blue eyes steady on hers. "I called you here because I wish to propose an alliance."

Before Lýna could consider what to address first, Solana asked, "Is that wise, my lord? I have little experience in the politics of this city, but I can't imagine your peers would appreciate you collaborating with outsiders while the Assembly deliberates."

"You're not wrong about that," Bélen admitted, "but you being Wardens allows us some leeway there. It is only appropriate, I'm sure you would agree, for the Wardens to fashion allies wherever they can find them, especially during a Blight. So long as we are not seen to be conspiring together to interfere with the decision of the Assembly, then any cooperation we may have in other matters will be overlooked."

Lýna nodded — she'd expected it might be something like that. The Wardens were highly respected enough in Orzammar that Bélen being seen to work with them might well increase his standing among his own people. The same reason Püröl had sponsored the Proving in Duncan's memory, more or less. "So, an alliance against the Blight, not in your politics."

Voice dropping into a low, rumbling drawl, his lips twisting into a sideways smirk, Bélen said, "Now, I didn't say that. We must not be seen to be conspiring — that does not mean we can't."

Perry let out a low snort, Sedwulf hissed something under his breath she didn't catch, Edolyn next to her tensed a little but remained silent. After a moment of thought, Lýna nodded. "You may not know, the Captains at Last Watch wish for you to be King." That was overstating it slightly — Sidona thought he was best for the Wardens' interests, Iaşneru liked the way he approached the casteless, but Reynaldo thought he was untrustworthy, so only two out of three — but even so mild of a statement was enough for the (so far silent) warriors to straighten a little, Vartag faintly smiling. "They can do nothing of this. I didn't tell them of your message or that I am meeting with you, and I will not. They need to continue here after I am gone."

"That is a good idea, I think," Bélen said, nodding. "I don't expect we will be discovered, but if we are it would be best to avoid bringing Last Watch down with us."

"Yes. If you are to deal with the Wardens, it must be me. But I am uncertain, on this."

Bélen's smile froze, turned empty of any actual feeling. "If you felt you couldn't be convinced to support me, you wouldn't have bothered coming out here to meet me in the middle of the night in the first place. So tell me, Commander, what reservations do you have?"

...Lýna wasn't sure what "reservations" meant, but she guessed it didn't matter — he was right about the rest of it. "Iaşneru believes you will be the better leader for your people, and Sidona believes you would better support our interests. I know little of the way of things here, so I must take their word for it. But if whatever they see of you will continue to be so I am less sure of.

"Maybe things are different here, but where I come from, we do not trust kinslayers." Bélen's party tensed, just a little, expressions going hard. "The rumour is you killed your father and your eldest brother, and made your other brother to die. Is this true?"

"I did not kill my father," Bélen said, immediately. Saying so, his voice was calm, absent of any anger, but hard and insistent. "You may not have heard he was ill — it is often not widely publicized when the King falls ill, for cultural reasons, you understand." She didn't, actually, but she would take his word for it. "The same illness is common among the people of the city, especially those among the warrior and mining castes, as well as the casteless, any who have spent any significant time in the less maintained areas of the Deep Roads. There must be something in the air, we don't know what it is for certain. He has been slowly declining for years now, and in these last months had such difficulty drawing breath he could no longer manage stairs on his own, or some days even get out of bed. I don't deny that we have had many disagreements over the years, or that I was pained by the favor he showed for my brothers over me, but I loved my father. He died of his illness, and I had no hand in it.

"I did kill Tirán, and arranged for Durán to be exiled. I didn't kill Durán by my own hand, but he will certainly not survive the Deep Roads."

It was pretty obvious that the people on her side of the table didn't like that — there was a bit of muttering and shifting in seats, a glance at Edolyn showed a scowl on her face. Lýna was confused by her reaction for a moment before remembering none of them had been present during her conversation with the Captains, they might not have heard of this yet...though perhaps they were simply surprised he'd admitted it. After a moment of thought, Lýna decided to believe his claim he hadn't killed his father — she didn't know him, of course, and dwarven faces were even harder to read than humans, so she wasn't certain but it would do for now — but that still left his brothers. "Why?"

Glaring across the table at Lýna, Vartag said, "What right do you have to—"

"No, it's all right," Bélen cut him off with a wave of a hand. "If it will give her some peace of mind, I don't mind speaking of it." He hesitated a moment, frowning blankly into space. Then he took a gulp of his (absolutely disgusting) ale, set the mug aside again, before turning back to Lýna. "Yes. From the markings, I understand you're of the wandering clans. I don't imagine you're from Orlais — the Free Marches?"

She shook her head. "The south, beyond Ferelden."

There were a few raised eyebrows and mutters at that — if Lýna had to guess, the dwarves didn't know any more about the south than the Alamarri did. Nodding, Bélen asked, "I don't remember, did the Ancients have any presence that far south?"

Lýna was a little surprised he called them the Ancients, that was the word the People used and the Alamarri generally didn't. "Some. Those lands were the...farthest of their reach, in the south. There are ruins there, but not many, fewer than in northern lands."

"I see, I see. There are elven ruins in the Deep Roads, did you know? Our records from the time of the Ancients have mostly been lost, so we can't be certain, but our assumption is that our people and yours once did a fair volume of trade. These sites were outposts to facilitate that — our people are loathe to leave the Stone, so your people would have had to come to us."

"That is what our stories say also, yes." Though they remembered very little of their interactions with the dwarves back then, only a few hints in a few stories, and that they had trading posts like that was actually a theory Mẽrhiᶅ had come up with in those odd ruins. (If Lýna remembered correctly, she'd said she'd heard of such places before, but Lýna hadn't.) Even if she hadn't been told about it directly, Lýna thought it was obvious something like that should have existed, just due to the fact that the Ancients and the dwarves had existed in the same world at the same time.

There was a little twitch from Solana, Lýna glanced up at her face — that was surprise. Had she not known about that? Huh. Must not be something they taught at their Circles.

"There is one such site under the hills near where Jader stands now, through which the old cities of the Frostbacks accessed the sea. I have been there, once. It had undoubtedly seen better days — it was conquered by Tevinter long ago, and that already after a period of decline; the darkspawn nested there during the Second Blight; elven refugees from the conquest of the Dales settled there for a time, only for Orlais to attack them again when they conquered Jader two centuries later. When I visited those halls, they were home to naught but deepstalkers, nugs, a pack of smugglers running out of Jader, and skeletal corpses both elven and human, dead for untold centuries.

"And yet, a shadow of its former glory remained. It was a surprisingly large settlement, perhaps half the size of Orzammar, but far more spread out, rather than concentrated around a single chamber a sprawling network of passages and great halls. Large enough it could house thousands, homes and warehouses and markets and workshops and foundries, everything you could possibly imagine. Much of it had been ruined, yes, statuary shattered and mosaics defaced, but the deeper into the hills the more remnants you could find. Intricate forms of sweeping organic lines, their architecture delicate in appearance yet enduring through millennia; statutes, four-times life-sized elves recreated with exacting, naturalistic detail; mosaics made of tiles as small as your fingernail, arranged into complicated, otherworldly designs, glittering with precious metals and gemstones; a few ruined traces of machinery of incredibly complexity, enchanted works of form and purpose we can hardly imagine in the modern day.

"And the harbor, the harbor in all sincerity stole my breath away. The cliffs rise over the water there, perhaps a couple hundred feet — I'm not certain whether anyone ever measured them exactly. The elves carved their port into the side of the cliffs, but they were not content only with the dockyards at the water level, no, they converted the entire cliff face into the structure of their city. One level after another, after another, after another, facing out over the water windows and galleries, some rooms blocked off with the local rock carved into a lattice web, as though cloth formed of stone, balconies left open, the cliff supported with great columns of polished stone — drakestone, serpenstone, malachite, obsidian, granite thick with quartz, red and white and green and black and pink — all of them carved with intricate patterns or into the form of plants or animals, so detailed as to seem almost real, as though living things somehow petrified, or an attempt to call out life from the Stone.

"The engineering required to build such a thing, the great labors it would have required, the sheer artistry — rarely have I been given cause to marvel at the works of another people, having been raised in such a place as Orzammar, but that!" Bélen shook his head with a queer little smile, grumbled, "No, that place was a wonder. I can hardly imagine how much greater it must have been at its height. Your people were great, once, there is no doubt about that.

"It might interest you to know that my men and I paused to...evict the smugglers operating there. Those ruins may not be a relic of my people, but the presence of such vile men profaning a place such as that offended me all the same."

...Lýna had no idea how she was supposed to feel about that, so she just didn't respond to it. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Leaning forward over the table, his voice falling to an intense almost-whisper, "It has everything to do with it. When we returned from our trip to the north, where I witnessed with my own eyes the grandeur of the Ancients, the wealth and power that had once belonged to your people, when I looked upon Orzammar again, I did not see the city — my city, my people — as it is now. I saw empty homes, warehouses stocked with filth and vermin, statues shattered and mosaics defaced, stone crumbling and metal rusted, bodies reduced to bones dry for centuries. Oh, how the people of the future might marvel at dwarven ingenuity — as they walk among our ghosts and step over our corpses.

"You might not know this, Lýna, but our people are dying. Day by day, inch by inch, over the course of generations. Our once great empire was reduced to a single city over a thousand years ago, this is true, but our decline did not end there. Our reach has shrunk ever since, slowly, year by year by year. Orzammar is not this one great chamber you see out there, no, it is the passages around it, homes and mines and farms, altogether much larger than the core of the city itself. And we have lost much of these outlying fringes, slowly, so slowly, as the sea might eat away at the stone of the shore. Each time a new district is lost, the people living there crowd into the city center, packing us in ever closer. Plague kills far more people now than the darkspawn, it's impossible for us to contain it. We are hanging on, yes, but the stone beneath us crumbles ever more every day.

"And yet the fools ruling our once great kingdom only burrow their heads ever deeper!" he cried, one hand gesturing sharply out in the direction of the city with a disgusted scowl — to Lýna's surprise, getting nods and grumbles from his people. "They retreat into stories of ancestors far wiser and far more imaginative than they, bicker with each other over pointless minutiae of trade or protocol. They compete in masturbatory displays of piety, self-consciously demonstrating before all the depths of their virtue, certainly greater than the others of their class, no, it is they who truly hold the favor of the Ancestors — while they do nothing to slow our death inexorably creeping upon us, like nugs meekly awaiting the slaughter! They will wallow in ceremony and tradition and the finest details of the law, blind to the failure of the institutions they venerate to preserve our very existence, until the very day we all starve to death, or the darkspawn finally break through our walls to paint the streets thick with dwarven blood.

"Why I have done what I've done, the ruin of your people has everything to do with it. I fear, inescapably, that Orzammar will fall. Not tomorrow, not this year, not this century, perhaps not even the next. But that day will come, inevitably, if we do not do something to stop it. Something must be done." Voice dropping a bit, into a slow, oddly soft rumble Lýna decided to read as mournful, "Or else our people will go the way of so many others over the long centuries — our works abandoned to crumble to sand, as the survivors are forced onto human lands as refugees, in time our language and culture, our heritage passed down to us through uncounted generations, are all massaged away until nothing remains. Until the Children of the Stone seem to all as though we are human...but shorter." With that last comment he glanced not toward Sedwulf, as Lýna might have expected, but to Perry, driving the point home for her specifically.

Because Perry was not one of her People, not truly, but an Alamarri like any other. As though he were a human with pointed ears.

Bélen didn't need to be quite so explicit about it — Lýna got the message he was trying to get across, of course she did. He hadn't needed to go on quite that long about it, either. Perhaps, though, he didn't truly think he needed to, and he was instead trying to sway her, play to her sympathies. If he was trying to do that, it'd worked — the intensity of the emotion on his voice, Lýna couldn't help but feel an echo of it herself, anger and grief for all that was lost — but the attempt was maybe a little misguided.

It didn't matter whether Lýna felt any personal sympathy for him, no matter how his frustration with the leaders of his own people might remind her of similar rants from Mẽrhiᶅ. She was a Grey Warden now — the Blight was the only thing that mattered.

Though he'd maybe done some good there too, if indirectly. If Bélen meant to reclaim some fraction of his people's lost glory, he would need allies, the dwarves couldn't do it alone. The Grey Wardens were one such ally, one that had stood with them against the darkspawn while the rest of the world ignored their plight. Even if their interests weren't directly aligned — which they were, since reclaiming old dwarven lands would require clearing the Deep Roads, taking the fight to the darkspawn — it would still be in Bélen's interest to keep the Grey Wardens happy.

Assuming he could be trusted to be that thoughtful about it. "You believe you are suited to do this, and your brothers were not."

Bélen's face twisted with a faint scowl. "Tirán was an arrogant, self-righteous, thoughtless braggart, with sand where his brains should be. He would have been a horrendous King — if Orzammar made it through his rule without war on the streets breaking out between the great houses, I would call us fortunate." He paused, just for a second, before adding, "Also, he once shoved me down a flight of stairs when we were children, broke several bones and I was bed-ridden for months afterward. I was six. And that was hardly the last time he did something of the like, the sadistic prick. As our Alamarri friends might say, Tirán can burn in hell." He got a few grumbles of agreement from his people at that too, apparently Tirán was even less popular than Sidona had made it sound.

And Lýna found herself scowling a little along with them — if that story was true, well, she could hardly condemn Bélen as a kinslayer for killing a brother who did not treat him like one. "And Durán?"

"He was not so bad as Tirán, that is true. Durán would not have been a bad king — he would have been a mediocre one. Honorable and temperate, yes, but staid and unimaginative. Under him, Orzammar would not have been catastrophically the worse for it, but our slow decline would have continued unabated." Bélen shrugged. "Also, he threatened to have Ríkja executed for some imagined crime, for the sole purpose of ensuring he would never again be forced to sully his eyes with a casteless in his own home."

"I am curious," Solana said, "if you wish to portray your intentions as noble, in the interest of your people and your country alone, why admit to personal grievances with your brothers that one could claim might be your true motivation?" There was a dry sort of tone on Solana's voice, but Lýna wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to be. Perhaps, implying that she believed Bélen truly had killed his brothers for these reasons, and the rest was only making excuses.

Lýna did wonder about that, but she didn't think it mattered. As much as his speech had been much longer than necessary, she did believe it was sincere. For Tirán, well, Lýna had already been given the impression from the Captains that he would have been a terrible king, and not just for the dwarves — Iaşneru had even joked that Bélen had done the Wardens a favor by killing him. Durán would just be more of the same, which was reason enough to be rid of him, but even if it were personal...

Well, Lýna thought, even if his intentions there weren't 'noble', they were understandable — in threatening Ríkja, Durán had threatened Bélen's unborn child, knowingly or not. She could hardly fault Bélen for Durán either, then.

This was turning out to be far more complicated than Lýna had realized. But, strangely enough, the more complicated things got the easier her decision was.

"My fraught history with my brothers isn't a secret — how would it look if I claimed to have no personal enmity for either of them, only for someone else to tell you what I have just now, or some other similar story? And there are other stories, these are simply the worst of them. Any alliance we may form will be far more stable if I'm honest with you about these things from the beginning." There was an odd suggestive lilt on his voice, which Lýna was a little confused by until Vartag next to him nodded — explaining why Vartag's attempt to defend him earlier in the conversation had been unnecessary, she guessed.

"What will you do?" Lýna had cut Solana off a couple words into another question — Solana still sounded very skeptical, Lýna was getting the feeling she didn't like Bélen. "You say they were not suited to rule, fine. What will you do different?"

There was a bit of a smile on Bélen's face, but repressed, trying not to grin at her. "How much time do you have? That's a very complicated topic."

"I know little of Orzammar, so give me the first glance."

"Well enough." Bélen paused for a moment, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling, took a gulp of his ale. "As I see it, the troubles facing Orzammar are five fold—" He lifted fingers as he listed them, the metal in his glove faintly clinking with the movement. "—the nobles and warriors have little to occupy themselves with, and thus are drawn into pointless and self-destructive feuds with each other, weakening our people as a whole; we are constrained to the city, and thus are dependent on foreign trade to feed ourselves; in addition, all of our society being limited to one city reduces the avenues for trade to a single road — if trade along that one road is interrupted for any reason, we may swiftly starve — and if the darkspawn breach the walls we are finished, with nowhere to retreat to; the ingenuity of our craftsmen and enchanters is harshly limited by laws and procedures imposed by the Assembly and the Shaperate; our numbers are on a steady decline, yet much of our capacity remains untapped, as the casteless, representing a large and ever-increasing fraction of our population, are barred from participation in most trades.

"The solutions to all these problems, I feel," he said, closing his fingers into a fist, "are interconnected. Currently, new works or new enchantments must get permission from the Shaperate before being designed, and sponsorship from the Assembly before being deployed, but a proclamation from the Crown to direct their efforts to a project of common interest may supercede those laws. However, they can't increase their output much, since they simply haven't enough hands to do so. As things stand currently...

"Well," Bélen huffed, "to explain this in simple terms. In Orzammar, very few grow food, so most must buy it. For those who have no properties or trade that bring in coin, what they may do is offer their labor to someone who does in exchange for pay — you'll find this is quite common among the far-flung branches of mining and merchant caste families, and much of the servant caste. However, the casteless cannot, it is illegal to pay a casteless for their labor. If a casteless wishes to live, they may instead sell themselves into the service of a member of a higher caste. Slaves don't tend to eat well, but they do eat — letting slaves you'd paid for starve to death would be a waste of an investment, you see."

Lýna scowled, and she wasn't the only one, a few hisses of displeasure coming from both sides of the table, actually. If it wasn't pretty clear from his tone of voice that Bélen was speaking as these people did to mock them, she might have said something about that.

As Lýna was still ignorant to most of these sorts of things, Solana figured out where he was going before she could. "You wish to ease the restrictions surrounding the casteless, so those of other castes may hire them for a wage."

"In basic terms, yes," Bélen agreed, nodding. "Harnessing this untapped segment of our population, if done correctly, will increase the output of our miners, smiths, and craftsmen considerably — not to mention, it could free up lesser members of these castes forced into necessary domestic work to focus on their family's trade. I've looked into the numbers, and with casteless labor we can double our output in many trades, even triple if we're lucky. I also intend to invite surfacers to rejoin us, but I'm still working on the details."

"I highly doubt you could force such a proposal through the Assembly, and the Shaperate would undoubtedly challenge it."

With a bright, crooked grin, Bélen tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "Ah ha, and so they would! There is no possible way to get such a thing through the Assembly. What I can do, is sequester every single casteless alive as property of the Kingdom and—"

"—and rent them out to whoever asks, I see. Clever. It won't work — the nobles will riot. I wouldn't by surprised if the Shapers try to exile you."

"I think not. If I am holding them in confidence, if their labor is not for themselves but the betterment of the Kingdom, than no trespass is being made upon the integrity of the Stone. In fact, I would argue focusing their efforts to something productive would suppress their own supposedly harmful natural inclinations, thereby reducing the threat posed by their existence. That's an argument I can bring to the Shaperate they can go along with, at least, which I feel they will most likely yield to — especially given how my other plans will serve the interests of the Shaperate."

Solana paused for a moment, staring back at Bélen, her mouth silently opening and closing again, as though uncertain how to respond. "All right, let's assume you can keep the nobles and the Shaperate in line. I don't imagine the Carta will tolerate you swiping their entire pool of recruits and victims both out from under them."

"No, I imagine not. The Carta will have to be dealt with before anything else, of course."

That statement, delivered flat and matter-of-fact, shocked Solana into silence.

But Lýna didn't care about that — from what Alim, Alistair, the Captains, and Natí had said about the Carta, they could all burn for all she cared. "I don't know if I understand. You wish to take all the casteless as your slaves."

"It is to be a legal fiction only, Commander," Bélen insisted — not that Lýna had any idea what that meant. "I have nothing to gain personally from the plan as I have designed it, I assure you."

Her voice a low drawl, Solana said, "Aside for the adoring adulation of the masses, of course."

"Yes, that is a nice side-benefit."

Lýna must be missing something, because that sounded horrible — why should the casteless adore him for forcing them all into slavery? Sure, the conditions they lived in now where completely unacceptable, but, she didn't get it. Apparently noticing that, Edolyn leaned a little closer, whispering over her ear. "He means he'll enslave them legally, on paper, but he'll leave them to live their lives as they will. He isn't saying he's going to hold them all in chains — I don't think he has the soldiers to do that anyway — he's just going to trick the other nobles, basically."

...Oh. Well, Lýna still didn't really understand it, but, if it made sense to Solana and Edolyn, she guessed she would just...leave that be. She wasn't happy about the idea but, well, she wasn't happy about the slaves at Last Watch either. And it wasn't like these were her people anyway, it wasn't really her business. "And the other problems?"

"The solutions to those, and the ones I already spoke of, are all tied together." Bélen smirked, anticipatory, as though looking forward to her reaction. "After the Blight is done, I intend to focus all the wealth, resources, ingenuity and labor-power of the Kingdom on one great project: the reconquest of the Deep Roads."

That announcement was met with dead silence, broken a moment later by the dwarves laughing at the looks on their faces.

Lýna could ask how that solved their problems, exactly, but she didn't have to — once the numb shock passed, it was immediately obvious. Of course, bringing the fight to the darkspawn would give the warriors something better to do than fight with each other, and there would be plenty of new lands for the nobles to claim, distracting from their feuds. The dwarves did once have vast underground farms and pastures, and reclaiming them would reduce their dependence on food from the surface — once the taint was burned away, they might need to carry in fresh soil from the surface, so it would be a long-term project, but doable. And about only having one road to the surface, well, the dwarves had once had many, if they spread out more they can open up new roads in, meaning it wasn't such a danger if that one was blocked. And as things were now, if the darkspawn got into Orzammar they were finished, but if they were spread out it wouldn't be possible for their entire people to be killed in one battle — also, retaking the Deep Roads would push the darkspawn back, so Orzammar would be under less threat anyway.

And even the first two points he spoke of supported this too. Obviously, he would need to equip more people, and their old cities and roads would need to be rebuilt — there would be much work to do, and bringing in the casteless would not only be good for the casteless, yes, but would make doing it all much, much easier. Especially if his idea to bring in people from the surface worked out, supposedly there were far more dwarves up there than in Orzammar. Lýna had no idea how many would want to come...but she'd learned from Perry that it could be hard for some people to get by, if at least they were guaranteed a place to live and food to eat...

Lýna didn't know enough about Orzammar to say whether this big project of his would be good for the city, but she did know it would be good for the Wardens. As things were now, they tried to go out and track down darkspawn warrens, to slow the increase in their numbers as much as possible, but they didn't have much success — so few Wardens, with only the support of the Legion of the Dead, no, they were too badly outnumbered to do much. But with the armies of Orzammar at their backs, hundreds and hundreds and thousands of them, some of the greatest soldiers in the world, tough and skilled, the enchantments of their arms and armor the best in the world, surpassed only by the Ancients themselves...

As she consider it, the enormity of what Bélen was speaking of, she felt an odd tingling rush over her skin, a directionless surge in her chest. Awe, almost — like standing on the edge of a cliff, but instead history itself, a moment of tremendous importance. Lýna had no idea whether Bélen could possibly succeed, even in some limited scale, but if he could...the world would be forever changed, she knew.

And in that light, there was really only one thing she could say now. "Yes."

Bélen blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, I will work with you. What is the plan?"

"I would not be so hasty, Commander," Solana said, faintly frowning across the table at Bélen. "I understand why you would be eager to support such a project, but dreams are not horses." Lýna had no idea what that meant. "I'm certain you're aware, my lord, Orzammar has attempted to reclaim the Deep Roads in the past — innumerable attempts, and none successful."

While a couple of his men were glaring at her, Bélen didn't seem offended by Solana's doubts, smirking back. "You are being very charitable with your description. The 'attempts' you refer to are projects executed by single noble or warrior houses, or sometimes a small cadre acting in concert. Such projects have had limited numbers, limited resources, and limited support. The full weight of the dwarven people has never been brought to bear against the darkspawn, not once."

"And I suppose you mean to suggest your Ancestors simply sat back and let the darkspawn slaughter you in that first century."

"They may as well have! I don't know how familiar you are with our history, but when the darkspawn first appeared we had just come out of a vicious civil war. The Empire was terribly weakened, the reach of central authorities in far-flung settlements thin. And the political divisions of the war survived unresolved. Even as the darkspawn ate away at us, we continued to bicker with each other — and fighting between dwarves continued! I once read a study, conducted by the Shaperate some centuries ago, that suggested that during the collapse of the Empire — at least in the critical early stages, before famine began to set in — more dwarves were killed by other dwarves than by the Blight itself! The Empire was simply too large, the enmities between different factions simply too deep, for our efforts to be focused on any one project.

"That is simply not the case anymore. Control of our resources and command of our warriors is far more concentrated than it has ever been in our history. It may seem at the surface that we are deeply divided, yes, but being crammed into a single city, all raised in a single environment, going on for generations now, has aligned our attitudes and interests to a degree our people have never before seen. It was never possible before to focus the resources of our entire nation on a single project, but it is now. I would not claim it will be easy, no, I don't doubt there will be obstructions to clear. But it is possible.

"Will the full might of Orzammar be enough to finally begin to push the darkspawn back, to retake what was stolen from us? This, I do not claim to know for certain. But," Bélen said, leaning forward a little, voice deep and passionate, eyes all but burning, "it is possible, for what might well be the first and last time in the long history since the collapse of the Empire. And even if we fail, even if the effort exhausts us and sees the last remnant of our once great civilization fade away, I, for one, would rather go out fighting." That got some more grumbling from his men, a few solemn nods, that sentiment obviously a shared one.

And one Lýna couldn't help feel tugging at her chest too. When the Republic had fallen, there were some — particularly what humans would call the nobility, a fair number of warriors — who'd refused to surrender. Many had chosen to flee into exile, like Lýna's ancestors, but others had chosen to stay and, led by a woman named Lĩdiranè, continue the fight against Orlais. The vast majority of the warriors following her had died in battle, the few who survived taken into slavery, where the invaders' priests attempted to force them to convert — according to legend, these had taken their own lives instead. Lýna had had occasion to wonder before, if she had lived then, would she have gone into exile or remained behind with Lĩdiranè, no matter how fruitless the effort might have been?

That was a silly question, truly. Lýna knew which she would have done, when it came down to it. So, yes, she understood, all too well.

"We can speak of this later, Solana. What do you wish from us?"

Smiling again, Bélen said, "Nothing too arduous, truly. I understand there are plans being made to reclaim Kal-Bónammar."

Lýna blinked. "Yes?"

"I want to help. I will provide warriors, supplied form my own house as well as those of the warrior caste loyal to me, including myself and my personal guard, alongside more from the most enthusiastic of my allies — I can't tell you exactly how many we will gather in the end, but it will be several hundred at least."

She felt her eyes widen — she didn't know exactly how many the Wardens and the Legion had put together between their own orders and a few warrior houses they were working with, but that was... Bélen could easily be offering to double the forces they had. "And what do you gain for this?"

"Upon our return to Orzammar, it is an old tradition of ours for the commanders to address the city and announce their victory. When that time comes, I ask that whoever will speak mention my contribution. That is all. You needn't even credit me for the victory, simply mention me."

...The implication being that his assistance had been critical to their success, but that he was acting not for his own glory but to the benefit of his people, yes, she understood. "And if we fail?"

"If we fail to retake Kal-Bónammar even while the horde is occupied assaulting the surface, my plans are doomed to failure. Besides, I suspect I would be dead soon afterward in any case."

Fair enough. It sounded like Bélen was risking quite a lot on a single battle, but no more than any warrior fighting in it. "Okay. I will need to talk to the others, but I think they will agree." Simply speaking Bélen's name was a tiny price to pay for an extra several hundred warriors — and surely Bélen realized that, she guessed he wanted in the battle more for being seen to do it than anything else. Also, he would need to retake Bónammar in time anyway, might as well do it now.

"I imagine they will," Bélen drawled, lips curling in a crooked smirk. "There are two other matters." He held a hand out toward Vartag, who pulled a couple sheets of paper out from somewhere in his armor. Holding one out toward Lýna, he said, "This is a list of noble houses — some are still undecided in the contest, others have only loose ties to Harrogáng."

Lýna glanced over the list quick, but of course they were meaningless to her, she didn't know anyone here. "What of them?"

"I wish the Wardens to invite them to contribute to the battle for Bónammar. None of them are known to be close allies of the Wardens, so are likely not houses Marshall Andras has gone to, but I have reason to believe that most of them, if not all, are willing to join the fight. When you speak to them, I would like for you, again, to mention me. Don't claim I am organizing the campaign — obviously I am not, and I don't wish to diminish the efforts of the Wardens and the Legion. Simple mention House Aidúkan alongside the rest of your supporters."

Yet again, a very small request — if she didn't realize that Bélen needed to retake Bónammar for his own plans anyway, at this point she'd be wondering where the catch was. "I understand. Thank you for the names." Lýna refolded the sheet of paper and tucked it into her glove, she'd talk to Sidona about them later. "And the other list?"

"As you might imagine, my plans concerning the casteless have been long in the making. I've been speaking with certain figures among them to determine how it should all be coordinated, and what difficulties may arise — including the Carta. These," he said, holding the second, smaller sheet of paper out toward Lýna, "are the names of Carta bosses who will oppose my plans."

A little confused, Lýna took the paper, started looking over the names. "And what do you want of them?" She didn't recognize most of the names, of course, but in the middle of the list she spotted one she did: Berát the Red. If she remembered correctly, that was the name of the man Natí owed all that money to, that she'd entered the Proving to pay off in the first place.

Flatly, almost casually, Bélen said, "I want them dead."

...Well. Lýna guessed she needn't bother paying off Natí's debts, then. Tucking the paper into her other glove, she nodded. "Okay. What else?"

There were a few surprised guffaws from the dwarves, Bélen giving her an odd, crooked look. "I ask you to assassinate half of the Carta bosses, and your response is okay?"

"I understand people here are fearful of this Carta, but they are only men. Men can be killed. The enemy the Wardens face is much worse." She paused for a second, then shrugged. "Besides, I already killed a few Carta warriors, and I was not impressed."

"I heard one of those men you killed in the Hall of Justice was Roggar," Vartag said, smiling. "He's one of the Carta's best fighters."

Lýna blinked. "Truly? Hmm. Then I am even less impressed. They will die."

The dwarves laughed, which was weird, because she wasn't even trying to be funny. That did seem to happen sometimes.

The meeting wrapped up pretty quickly from there — surprisingly, Bélen didn't have anything else he wanted from her to help claim the throne and secure their alliance. She understood that the contest between him and Harrogáng was close, so probably all he needed was the good will from reclaiming Bónammar...and really, he was helping her there, so this was less a list of demands and more a trade. All he really wanted from her was to kill a few people for him, and if they were all like how Sidona had made this Berát sound, the world would probably be better without them in it anyway.

Honestly, Lýna felt much better coming out of this meeting than she had going into it. She'd been leery of supporting Bélen, after what the Captains had told her, but his explanation of his motivations had smoothed her objections over somewhat. If she were in a position where she thought she had to do something drastic or watch the People slowly die... Well, she didn't have a brother, but hypothetically, if she had to choose between her People and her brother she knew which one she would pick.

(The closest she had to a sibling was probably Mẽrhiᶅ — the thought was painful, but she didn't doubt that, put in that position, she'd do what she had to. It helped that she knew Mẽrhiᶅ would certainly do the same. And they cared for each other far more than it sounded like Bélen and his brothers had.)

She'd been worried what Bélen might ask of her, but they'd actually gained in this deal! They had to hunt down a few Carta bosses, which might be a pain, sure, but Bélen was giving more than he was asking. Of course, their interests actually aligned in this matter — they both wanted the battle to succeed, so helping them was also helping himself — but even so, the point was this had gone much, much better than she'd had any cause to expect. Especially after having dealt with Eamon, no, she was very pleased.

With a last few goodbyes, Bélen clasping her arm in the Avvar style with a wish for good luck — his grip a little lighter than Harrogáng's, perhaps he'd actually dealt with elves before — and they were stepping back out into the alleyway, Solana casting fadelight for the others. Lýna started off back toward Last Watch, smiling and humming an Avvar battle-song under her breath. There was time tonight to explain the plan to her Wardens tonight, and they'd get right to work tomorrow.

This visit to Orzammar, as uncertain as it'd seemed at first, was turning out wonderfully. First, she learned the Wardens were already preparing to come to Ferelden to face the horde, alongside soldiers sent by other human kingdoms, and now a mutually-beneficial alliance with Orzammar was practically falling into her lap. She was certain her people would be just as pleased as she was.

(If she'd only glanced over her shoulder, caught the look on Solana's face, she might have guessed she was going to be disappointed.)

---

śýlèna — Woah, that's a lot of diacritics in one word. That should be [ɕɨ.lɛ.na], roughly "shih-leh-nah". Started with "sulena" from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen ("sulahn" in canon) to use as the base in my own ancient elvish, then tweaked it a little so it would reasonably be "surana" in the modern elvish spoken by Andrastians in the Dales, giving sylæna. The only things off are the l, but an l - r sound change is really common in some languages, and in present-day elvish it should be shurana, but at the time the Chantry had used a form of old Tevene, which didn't allow that sound, so it was changed to an [s] in the borrowing. Applying the sound changes on the same word to take ancient elvish to Lýna's dialect, and we get śýlèna instead. (Lýna's elvish has two "sh" sounds, [ʃ] and [ɕ]; the first is the same as the sound in English, and was in ancient elvish; the second one, written ś, developed before front vowels during the Dalish Republic, and later merged with [ʃ] in the dialects still spoken in the Dales, but was preserved in most dialects spoken by the diaspora.)

And yes, I'm aware I think about this too much.

[his former wife remarried] — Divorce is technically illegal in Chantry law — annulments can be granted under certain circumstances, but since that requires the direct involvement of a Grand Cleric they're not really available to common people. Or, for the most part, anyway, there are a few things that might look like divorce to us but they don't consider it so. For example, if someone is forced into a marriage without their consent they can just go to any Mother and tell them what happened, and the 'marriage' is immediately invalidated — marriage requires the consent of both parties under Chantry law, if one party is coerced it doesn't count as a legitimate marriage in the first place. Though they would normally only count physical coercion, I imagine the Chantry would be less understanding of economic factors.

Anyway, the point is, Merrick's former wife's second marriage is technically illegitimate, since they can't legally divorce. But marriage records are kept in the Chantry they were performed in, and it isn't like people have social security numbers to cross-reference or a centralized administration to do the cross-referencing, so if you're a commoner remarrying is often as simple as moving to a different parish where nobody knows who you are. Pre-modern bureaucracy can be funny like that.

Yeah, I took some liberties with Bélen's character..though not as many as you might think. The suggestion that he means to grant greater civil rights to the casteless and try to reclaim some of the lost thaigs is pretty clear, and even explicitly stated in some possible endings. A visceral fear of his civilization finally dying is as good a motivation for him as any. He might be a ruthless bastard, but I don't really think it's debatable that he's the better choice. But then, I'm a dirty commie, so Harrowmount's "but muh traditions!" line immediately turns me off.

Also, Harrowmount wants you to fight in the Provings for him, and no. Fuck you, old man, you and your traditional practices can go straight to hell.

Anyway, gonna try to alternate chapters for this and The Good War, so gonna go write for that next. Woooo...