Chapter 27: Kings and Pawns
Alim had a lot of hard choices ahead of him.
Not that that was any surprise of course, one of the first lessons that Irving had taught him was that being a mage meant that you had to try and see all the angles.
Our lives are not easy lad, even here in the circle. To thrive here, much less survive, you must be prepared to do what is necessary. Even if that means doing something your conscience might not agree with.
The First Enchanter's words had merit, even here in Orzammar.
That was where Alim found himself now, literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Wardens were supposed to be neutral, but…the treaty demanded that the dwarves have a new king. They could continue to support Harrowmont true, but what if Bhelen managed to win the throne despite their help? What if he decided not to aid the wardens because it did not serve his interests?
That…could not be allowed.
Alim did not like the idea of playing both sides against the middle. It was risky, if the dwarves found out he could end up alienating both factions, but at the same time, he could not afford not to try either.
They needed the support of the dwarves, whoever sat on the throne.
He and Zevran had discussed this at great length last night. The assassin agreed that they needed to gain the support of both factions, so that whoever won the throne, the possibility of their gaining the armies of Orzammar was assured.
That meant helping Bhelen on the sly, it would be dangerous and difficult, but it could be done.
Alim hated the very idea of it. It felt like…it felt like he was justifying everything that the Templars had ever said about him. Greagoir seemed to have it in for him since his first day in the circle…
The boy is too powerful Irving. He will grow only more powerful as the years go on, and we don't know enough about his magical abilities to hold him in check! For the good of Thedas, he should be made tranquil. That way…he will never be a threat to himself or others.
The Knight-Commander did not know that he had heard that conversation. Fortunately, Irving was not as prone to panic as Greagoir. He took Alim as his apprentice, trained him in the art. Alim still had a temper sure, but Irving proved that the he could control himself. Power did not make him inherently evil!
What he was doing here…seemed to prove otherwise.
Knock it off, he thought to himself, this needs to be done, lives are at stake. You can confess your sins after the Archdemon lays dead.
That was all that mattered now he supposed, ending the Blight, and saving Ferelden.
So…he would play the dwarves against each other.
It also meant that the fewer of their companions that knew about this the better. Alim intended to keep this to himself, so if the blade did fall on their heads, it would be on him alone. Alistair would still have a chance of making peace with the winner.
This meant that Alistair had to be kept out of this plan, for his own good. Sten and Gus were out too; their sense of honor would likely get in the way. Morrigan would likely jump on board, her pragmatism would be served by helping them with this, Alim did not see her having moral qualms about this. Shale did not care about such things, so, it would likely help too.
That left only Leliana, at first Alim had wanted to leave her out as well, but Zevran disagreed. Considering how the sister acted during the business with the two Harrowmont fighters, he felt that she would see things their way.
Though the assassin did find that he was curious about her background, he inquired about how much Alim knew about that.
The elven mage had to admit, there really was not that much to say. She had been a lay sister in the Chantry of Lothering. She joined them because she thought that they were doing the Maker's work.
"Ah…but who was she before that?" Zevran asked, "Most women in the chantry do not possess the types of skills that our Leliana does."
Alim only knew what he had heard from Alistair, Leliana had been a travelling minstrel in Orlais before joining the chantry.
Zevran smiled.
"A travelling minstrel you say," the elf said scratching his chin, "Interesting."
Something in his fellow elf's voice set off alarm bells.
"You do not believe her?" Alim asked, "I don't think she has been lying to us."
"Nor do I," the assassin agreed, "But she is not telling us the whole truth either," Zev sat back; he seemed to be considering his words carefully.
"Tell me warden," he said quietly, "Have you ever heard of the Orlesian bards?"
The name seemed simple enough, but Alim did not understand why Zevran sounded so smug when he said it.
"That is just another name for minstrel isn't it?"
"Not in Orlais," the assassin grinned, "In Orlais, bards serve as pieces in what the nobles cause the great game."
"What kind of game?"
"Power games of course," Zevran replied, "on the surface, bards are just singers, actors, and storytellers, but in secret they are skilled agents. Some might call them spies; they serve noble patrons, through theft, seduction, and murder."
Alim's ears twitched, he…he had never heard of this before, his training in the tower involved magic, and little else.
"So they are like the crows?" he asked.
"Bards are not exclusively assassins," Zevran answered, "But even the Crows have a healthy respect for the bards of Orlais. They are quite skilled."
Alim considered what Zevran had told him.
Was it possible?
He had feared that Loghain might have left a spy behind in Lothering. Had Leliana been hired to spy on them, to sabotage their mission?
That did not seem to make sense; Leliana had been given ample opportunities to end them before now. She had not acted on any of them.
But…still…?
The elven mage felt his temper flare, had she been playing them from the very beginning?!
The elf mage frowned.
"I think I need to have a word with our sister tomorrow," he said flatly.
"That may be wise my dear warden," Zevran agreed, "That maybe wise indeed."
IOI
Leliana had not risen early that morning, after the events of the proving, Alim decided to let his companions have a day of rest.
Leliana used that time to have the first good night sleep she had since the visions had started shortly before the battle of Ostagar.
The bed was soft, and allowed her to slip quickly into a restful slumber. She moaned softly as she dreamt.
For the first time in months, they were good dreams.
IOI
She crept through dark places, her familiar armor creaked softly as she moved, a dagger gripped firmly in her hand.
The wind tussled her long red hair. She had pulled it into a ponytail for her job tonight, much as she had done every night in Orlais.
As she had done during her time with Marjolaine.
None of this felt strange to her, as with all dreams, it was comforting...familiar.
She was on the hunt, yet…for the life of her she could not remember who.
She moved to peek around a corner…
Slender fingers seized her wrist; they pulled her out of hiding.
She prepared to attack, to make this person pay for grabbing a bard!
He pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips fell upon hers.
Her eyes widened with surprise.
The kiss…oh sweet Maker…the kiss.
The kiss was not the kiss of a man trying to force himself upon her. It was soft, shy, and attentive. It felt like…the greeting of an old lover, one who had been parted sweetly, but had now returned.
Heat suffused her body.
The kiss broke; Leliana found herself staring into dark brown soulful eyes.
Her passions fired.
She grasped him hungrily, pulling him close, she moaned softly, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, the kiss became more playful, teasing, a dance all its own.
She fell back.
Landing not on hard stone, but warm silk and fur blankets, she groaned as the man's fingers explored her bare skin.
Maker save me, she thought, I'm sooo hot!
His lips left hers; they ran down her neck, his tongue explored her collar bone.
She gasped in delight!
Her fingers traced his short spiky brown hair; they toyed with his long elven ears. She…
Alim!
Leliana awoke; she sat up with a gasp. For a moment…she felt confused…that…that had not felt like one of her visions…it…it…was…
She…Maker…that was…oh!
A hint of a smile played at her lips.
She flopped back onto the bed.
Maker…was she…was she dreaming about…Alim?
Alim was the last person she should be feeling any attraction for.
It was preposterous, clearly when he had healed her during the proving she had started reading more into his touch then was there.
A pleasant dream to be sure…fun…but likely all it would ever be…just a dream.
She rose from her bed, the clock at the side of the bed said it was nearly afternoon. The others had not woken her, she was surprised, but then again, Alim had said this was to be a day of rest, before the real work could begin.
She hunted for her shift. The rooms down here were warm, heated through lava vents, the warmth had caused her to sleep in just her breast band and smalls.
Not that the heat had been a problem, that dream had made her feel hot enough.
Chuckling to herself, she went to grab her shift.
The door to her room flew open.
"BANDIT NO!" a familiar voice cried out.
She looked up to see the Mabari and a familiar elf standing there. His brown eyes wide, taking in the view of her.
"ALIM!" Leliana squealed, she leaped into bed pulling the covers around herself, color suffused her cheeks.
Alim spun, his cheeks and ears had gone beet red.
"Maker…Sister I am sorry," he stuttered, "Bandit…he…I told him we were coming to see you, and he…bad dog…very bad dog!"
The Mabari whimpered; he did not like being yelled at.
Panic and embarrassment filled the air.
Leliana took it upon herself to diffuse the situation.
"It…it is okay," she said pulling the covers farther up. She was trying very hard not to think about the dream, especially now, given her state of undress.
Fingers warm on her skin, lips at her neck and collar bone.
She cursed slightly, trying to will those thoughts away.
'You have my apologies," Alim said trying hard not to stare, but part of him could not help himself, his eyes found their way to her cream colored back, the gentle curve of it, and…
Alim frowned, his ears lowered slightly in anger.
Leliana's blush darkened; she knew what he was looking at.
"Who did that?" he asked coldly.
She winced, "It…it is nothing," she said.
"By the void it is," he growled, "What bastard did that to you?!"
She winced at the harshness of his words.
He of course…was referring to the scars.
She had looked at them in the mirror before, and knew them intimately.
Her last mission in Marjolaine's employ had ended badly. Marjolaine had had her captured, given over to her lover, the sadistic Raleigh. The man had watched hungrily as his servants applied a heated blade to the small of her back. It had been the start of her agony, but only the start.
The final insult had been a branding iron.
You have interfered in my business you Orlesian bitch; I will see that you bear the mark of that.
He had branded the symbol of his family into the back of her right shoulder.
Branded her, like a piece of livestock!
You traded me to that brute, for what, a few coins in your purse?!
You would have betrayed me eventually my pretty thing. I simply decided…to do it first.
We are the same.
Those words still haunted her, after almost three years!
She had often looked at that symbol, and felt only icy rage, rage…and shame.
She bowed her head.
"Why would anyone do that to someone?" Alim asked, bringing her back to the present.
She sighed heavily.
"It is an old wound, warden;" she said sadly, "The one who caused it is long dead."
That seemed to mollify the elf slightly.
"Good," he said coldly, "I hope it hurt."
"It did," she said softly.
IOI
Alim had come to confront Leliana about her past, but…seeing her…seeing what someone had dared do to this beautiful woman.
All other concerns went away.
She is still a chantry sister, the old anger reminded him.
"She has helped us, his conscience chimed in.
She is not to be trusted; she is a sister and likely a spy!
She has done nothing to warrant our hatred.
She is from the chantry that is enough!
Damn it, she is not the woman who ripped us away from Mother, For Maker's sake, get off your damn high horse!
She knows nothing of love, of caring for others!
Is that what you think…Zathrian?
The realization struck him like a fist.
No, he…he was nothing like that bastard of a keeper, that treacherous flat ear. His hate, his reasons were justified.
I'm sure Zathrian felt the same, and his hate got Belle killed.
Alim felt sick.
Had…had he been blaming her for what happened back then?
Had he not been blaming every sister since that day?
Leliana, Lily, and so many others, all had felt his scorn. He had felt so justified.
He…oh Maker, he felt like a hypocrite!
"Warden," Leliana asked her voice thick with concern, "Alim?"
He could not bear to look at her, her shame for those scars were nothing like he felt now.
"I…I'm fine," he whispered, "I…I needed to speak with you, I have a plan, I'll…I'll let you get dressed first. Come, Bandit."
The Mabari followed after him.
Alim closed the door.
The elven mage sighed, he…he had been such a fool. He had let Zevran and his old hatred get the better of him.
Was Leliana more than what she said, probably, that did not make her an enemy.
So…he would watch, if he was wrong, he would deal with the problem, but for now…now…
He needed to start over with her, Zathrian was dead, he had gone too far, it had been too late for him.
It was not too late for Alim Surana.
IOI
Leliana invited him back in a few minutes later, now dressed in a light shirt and leggings. Bandit whimpered as he approached her, licking her hand for forgiveness.
She smiled and scratched his ears.
He lay down next to her contented.
Alim seemed; he seemed nervous around her now, like he had come to a decision that was bothering him.
She did what she had done after Belle had died, she listened.
It seemed to help.
He explained his plan to her, to get both Harrowmont and Bhelen on their side. She listened attentively as he outlined what he hoped to accomplish.
Unconsciously, her hand went to a forelock of her red hair, she twirled it around one finger as he spoke, much as she had done back when she had been Marjolaine's apprentice.
Careful my pretty thing, Marjolaine had laughed, you will make yourself bald.
She pulled her finger away, feeling ashamed of the old gesture.
It seemed that she had not eliminated all of her old habits from her bardic days.
When Alim finished, he looked at her, waiting for her opinion.
"Well?" he asked.
She sighed.
"I think we have no other option," she agreed, "The Blight must be stopped, no? We will have to tread lightly, and be mindful, but I think your plan is the best one we can come up with."
"The moral thing does not bother you?" he asked.
"Of course it does," she shrugged, "But…as you said, we have no other options. In Orlais we have a saying; you are either a king or a pawn. To stop the Blight, the dwarves must see you as a king, pawns have a tendency of being discarded when they become…inconvenient. We must make sure the dwarves do not see us as expendable. Besides, if they were in our place, they would do the exact same thing. Dwarven politics are vicious warden, we must respond in kind."
Alim nodded, her words were wise, ruthless, but wise.
"You make it sound like it is all a game," he said thoughtfully.
"It is the great game," she shrugged, "And we can't afford to lose."
The great game.
Zevran's warnings came back to Alim's mind, but he ignored them for now.
He would not see Leliana as an enemy, until she had proven herself otherwise.
The look he gave her made her feel…uncomfortable.
"Is there anything else?" she asked.
"Yes," he said rising and starting to pace, he needed to…he had to…
Maker…this was not easy.
"I…" he sighed, "I want to start over…with you."
She gave him a curious look.
"I have been unkind to you," he admitted, "I have been mean spirited, overcritical, and a little prick," his ears drooped in shame, "I wanted to know that I have come to value your skills and input. I…I am sorry for the way I have treated you up to this point. I hope that we can start again sis…I mean…Leliana."
The woman smiled.
"I have not blamed you warden," she said, "You have had a lot thrown at you in a very short time."
"Never the less, I have been wrong." He repeated.
"Does this mean that I can convert you to the Maker now?" She asked.
Alim's eyes widened, "What?!"
Leliana giggled, "I'm kidding warden…I mean Alim."
The elf paused, but finally he chuckled.
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
"That remains to be seen," she replied.
He left her then, chuckling.
She followed him with her eyes.
She felt…that…that had been unexpected.
She was not sure exactly what had happened, but…
She thought that it was a good thing.
A fresh start with Alim.
She liked the sound of that.