The rain had a calming and uncomfortably sobering effect on the tavern. One could usually expect a bit of rowdiness. Lively songs, drunkenly sung in a rough chorus or maybe a brawl between two men competing for the affection of a maiden who likely didn't care about either of them. But not tonight. The only entertainment of the night was the lightning and the loud rumblings that followed.

Aden Trevelyan sat in the corner, tilting his chair up against the wall, nursing the same piss-poor ale he always did. A letter sat in front of him, wet from the rain, and crumpled from the carelessness of the tired man.

Aden,

I'm sure the Maker grows tired of hearing my prayers that you will eventually take your role as heir of the house seriously. I'm sure you will be delighted to know that I have asked Asher to take your place as executor of your mother and I's will. We don't plan on leaving this world soon, but since you won't take any of your duties seriously, we have asked someone more responsible to take your place just in case. The world is becoming more and more volatile by the day, the Chantry is making more enemies than allies. We must be prepared for the inevitable.

You are still a son of House Trevelyan though, and I will not see one of my children become a disgrace. No matter how hard you may try. I'm sure news of the Conclave happening in Ferelden has reached whatever whore house or dusty tavern you have decided is more accommodating than your own home. Your grandmother and uncle Clarence have been asked to attend supporters of the Chantry and voices speaking in aid of the Templars. Your mother and I will be remaining here, but we have decided that you are to travel with them. Your grandmother is as wise as the Divine, but you know of her eccentricities and Clarence is convinced he needs a personal bodyguard. I don't blame him. You are to attend to them both and aid them in any way possible. Failure to do so and you will be cut off from any aid from the family, financial, or otherwise.

You've failed enough, don't you think it's time to do something decent with your life?

- Father

It was typical of his father to write a letter and pass it to a servant rather than address the issue in person. Aden figured this was why Father had decided to go to the summer home in Antiva, despite it being so late in the season. "Bold in Deed" might be the family motto, but it hardly reflected on the family itself.

Tonight would be his last night of freedom before embarking on the journey to the 'dog-lands' as he called it. He thought about downing one more pint before leaving back the estate but knowing how his Gran-Gran felt about the "vices" of the world, it'd likely be a poor decision. She may be old, but she still can leave a cheek stinging after a slap if she deems it necessary.

With that thought, Aden sat up and braced himself on the table in front of him. Perhaps he had partaken in a bit too much of "vice" already. He tossed a silver to the barkeep and stumbled out of the tavern, lightning striking as soon as he looked up to the sky.

The rain came down even harder as he pulled his hood up over his head. At least the cold water might sober him up a bit faster. He made his way through the merchants quarter and into the more, "high brow" part of the city. All the lights pouring through the windows lit the streets, making the lightning seem less drastic. As he walked up to his familial home, he saw a figure waiting by the door, the awning covering their face.

"I'm sorry father, I tried to make it back sooner. I tried to wait out the storm, but I suppose it had plans to stay awhile." Aden said, assuming the figure was his father. But was greeted instead by the voice of his younger brother.

"The storm has better sense than you then," Asher spat out. "Grandmother and uncle Clarence are asleep and packed for the journey. I took the liberty of gathering your belongings. They're packed and sitting on your bed."

"You're too kind, Asher. But why do I have the feeling you aren't waiting outside to give me a welcome home hug?"

"Maybe your instincts aren't complete shit. Mother and father asked me to wait for you. To make sure you actually came home. So here I am, having to make sure older brother doesn't let the family down again." Asher never held back when it came to addressing Aden. Most would be offended, but Aden took it as an honor. At least he got to see more of the real Asher than his parents ever did. However, Aden caught on quickly that this wouldn't be a good time to egg his brother on. It was late, his head was still a bit woozy, and he did in fact have that journey tomorrow. Interactions like this usually ended in a brawl, as it had so many times before, they have given one another more bruises and black eyes than they'd care to admit. Asher usually came out on top, though. Aden would usually get revenge by sneaking into his younger brother's room and stealing his belongings then hiding them somewhere in the manor, or pinning his underclothes to the mantle with his arrows on the day other nobles would come to visit.

"Asher, I don't want to do this tonight. I've already agreed to go. I'm here and the sooner I can go to bed, the sooner I'll be out of your hair." He pushed past his brother only to have a strong hand grab his shoulder and hold him still, not allowing him to turn around and look at his brother.

"Aden, if anything happens to them while you're gone… don't bother coming back." And with that, Asher let go and Aden walked straight to his room. Nothing else needed to be said.

As he closed the door behind him, Aden let out a sigh. When he turned to his bed, sure enough, a bag was packed with all of the things needed for his task ahead. His bow and quiver was laying there too. Aden wondered if this was Asher making sure that he didn't forget anything or if it was Asher secretly showing that he cared. Likely the former.

He stripped his wet clothes off and lay on the bed. Maker's balls, this was going to be a rough trip.

As he awoke the next morning, Aden was relieved that the ale hadn't gotten to him and his head was surprisingly clear. He figured that everyone else was already prepared and ready downstairs, so he quickly threw on his now dry clothes and grabbed his belongings.

Walking down the stairs he was surprised to see his Uncle just now placing his bags by the door so the servants could carry them to the cart.

"Ah, Aden. So glad you're prepared already. And with your bow, I'm delighted to know you're ready for anything." Uncle Clarence was often too busy to come to family gatherings, so Aden's title as the black sheep was not one that the older gentleman was aware of. Gran-Gran on the other hand…

"Yes, the weasel would use a bow. Penetration does seem like his cup of tea." The old bat had a tongue like none other, Aden would give her that.

"Believe me, if all goes according to plan there will be no penetration of any variety on this trip," Aden said, forcing a smile. Might as well act the part of a kindly grandson, it'd make the trip much smoother. "Are we prepared to leave? The civil war likely will not wait for us to get our sarcasm out." Aden wasn't good at being a kindly grandson.

"Yes well, the cart is ready and I have documents that secure our passage to Denerim. It will be roughly a four-day journey to Haven from there." Uncle Clarence said, trying to smooth over the already rising tensions.

"Well, let's get on it then." Aden walked out the door and into the cart, not bothering to wait for his elders or to say goodby to Asher. All he wanted was for this to be over. Responsibility never suited Aden.

How drastically things change.