"Face/Off"

Part 1 – Against All Odds

We visited Teagan on the way back to camp. He treated us with the same gracious hospitality as before, giving us lavish meals and persuading us to stay the night before we continued on to camp, then to Redcliffe Castle to confer with Arl Eamon.

Before we left, Teagan informed us of his plans to make himself ready, prepare the people in his bannorn to combat darkspawn stragglers should any appear there (I had the distinct impression that darkspawn had already begun to appear, but he was reluctant to tell us), then to meet us at Redciffe Castle in a few days.

Back at camp, our companions were rested, healed, and ready for the battle to begin. Aiden looked as if he hadn't suffered a scratch. Morrigan stayed closer to him than before, not caring who knew of their feelings for each other. She was much friendlier to me, too.

It seemed everyone wanted to talk to me about something, but there simply wasn't time for anything but the most urgent business. The longer we lingered in camp, the better chance the darkspawn would attack en masse and catch us unawares. I called the group together and told them these things, and instructed them to prepare their weapons and armor, and be ready to move out in thirty-six hours. If anyone had important business to discuss, and I stressed important, bordering on life-and-death, they could find me in my tent or somewhere around camp. Otherwise, they were to make their preparations and then help anyone who might need assistance. After that, they were to get as much rest as they could, because the time was upon us that rest would be hard to come by.

That night Alistair came to my tent to talk. What he said took me by surprise. "You know how I feel about you, Winter. I… Well, here's the thing…" he stammered nervously.

"Yes? What is it, Alistair? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine. Yes, everything is… Look, Winter, I want to spend the night with you. Here. Tonight. Because I don't know if we'll have the chance again."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting this. Not now, of all times. "I am… flattered. But here? Now?"

"I know the timing isn't perfect, but when will it be perfect? I'd imagined something much better for you than a dusty camp and a bedroll on the ground." He moved closer and cupped my cheek. "I love you. I want to be with you. Is that so terrible?"

"No, Alistair, it's not," I answered. "I do… care… for you…" The words were hard to say. I didn't want to hurt him, but I didn't know if there was a way to say it and not hurt him. "I'm just… not ready for this. Not yet. I made a mistake before…"

"I am not that man," he broke in.

"I know. I know you aren't. But please, if you want to be with me, you must give me more time."

"What if there is no more time? What if this is our last chance?"

"Then I'll die without feeling we've taken a good thing and cheapened it." I put my hand over his. "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't give myself to anyone again until I was married. I want it to be real, and right, or I don't want it at all. Can you understand why I feel this way?"

He looked disappointed, but not hurt. "Yes, I understand. And in a way, I agree. That's how it should be and it's no less than you deserve." He kissed me lightly. "I will wait for you, dearest. We'll talk again when this is all over."

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of my tent. As soon as he was gone I started doubting myself. Did I do the right thing? Was I too harsh; did I sound too demanding? Or worse, did he think I was trying to pressure him to marry me by withholding myself?

"No," I answered myself aloud. "I can't think on this right now."

The unmistakable sound of shrieks split the quietness outside. I grabbed a sword and opened my tent flap to see a shriek right there with its back to me. It was flailing at someone—I couldn't see who, and it didn't matter. They were my people. I drove my sword into the beast at an upward angle, to destroy its internal organs and to avoid the blade going too far forward and injuring one of my party members who might be standing near it. It fell, and I stepped over it to combat the other monsters that had attacked our camp. There were nine of them in all.

Sten finally got his chance to fight some darkspawn after his long, impatient wait. His greatsword whistled through the air when he swung it, then it split a shriek in half with a nasty-sounding splatter. He moved on to another. When they were all on the ground, he went to each one and drove his blade through their heads to make sure they wouldn't be getting up again. He looked disappointed that there were only nine of them.

"That was a warning," I said to him. "The archdemon is telling us he knows where we are. Now we're going to find out where he is."

"And kill him," Sten finshed.

"Yes. We'll kill him."

"It's about time."

We hiked to Redcliffe to meet with Arl Eamon. Unlike our last visit, which was a cordial one, this was formal business. Eamon was pleased that we'd been successful in gathering all our allies. He declared that everything was in place for the next step: a landsmeet. The nobles of Ferelden had been summoned and were waiting for him in Denerim. Maker willing, they would remove Loghain from power and try him for treason, depose Anora, and put Alistair on the throne.

"Just like that?" Alistair said.

"No, it won't be as easy as that," Eamon scowled at him. "Loghain won't simply admit his guilt, and Anora won't just step aside. It's up to the landsmeet to declare them unfit to rule, and to put you on the throne where you belong. With your Theirin bloodline, it will be hard for them to ignore your claim to the throne as the strongest."

Teagan stood beside Eamon, lending his quiet support to his brother. Eamon had years of political experience, having advised Maric and Cailan. Alistair was going to need him in his court.

Aware of our concerns, Eamon said, "Don't worry, son. I'll be there in whatever capacity you require, for as long as you have need of me. You aren't being thrown to the wolves here."

"Thank you, my lord," Alistair said. "I'm relieved to hear it. I will rely on your wisdom."

He seemed to have matured overnight. His manner was different. He was more solemn, didn't make light of everything, and he took the kingship very, very seriously. I liked him this way.

"Warden," Eamon addressed me, "since you have your armies, I propose we move quickly and not give Loghain a chance to gather his supporters around him. We should go to Denerim and proceed with the landsmeet as soon as possible."

"I agree, your lordship. My party and I are ready to move out on your orders."

"Very well. We leave immediately." He turned to Teagan. "Will you stay in Redcliffe and see to the arling in my absence? If the darkspawn attack before our business is concluded in Denerim, I'll need you here to command my army."

"You can count on me," Teagan answered.

I signaled to my companions to meet me in the castle courtyard. Eamon said to me, "Ferelden owes you a debt, Warden. But we are still a nation in need. Your work is not yet done, I fear."

"I'm not going anywhere, m'lord," I said, "except where I'm needed. For now, to Denerim."

"I am grateful," he said. "Meet me at my estate inside the city. Any guard can direct you."

"Maker be with you, Winter," Teagan added.

"Indeed," Eamon said. "Maker be with us all."

In the coming days we would need the Maker's help.

I borrowed a horse from Eamon's stable. If I'd walked, having to go first to Soldier's Peak and then to Denerim, it would have delayed my arrival by two days. Unwilling to drag any of my fellows along, I went alone. Alistair traveled with Eamon, and Aiden led the rest of the group to Denerim.

At the Peak, Mikhael Dryden took the pieces of the sword I'd found in the Deep Roads and he spent the better part of a day reforging it into the finest blade I'd ever seen. He balanced it perfectly for me, and remade the grip so that it fit my hand more comfortably. It was the work of a master smith, and well worth the twenty-five sovereigns I paid him to reforge it.

Levi tended to my horse while I waited for the sword. He chatted about the Peak, and about how business had picked up once travelers and soldiers found out that the old fort was reopened and merchants were there to serve them. There was a shortage of merchants in Ferelden, I'd noticed. Levi Dryden was a born trader. The man could sell salt to a snail.

I rode into Denerim a half-day behind schedule. Not bad, and the horse wasn't foaming at the mouth from being run too hard. I put the animal up in a stable outside the city walls and went in to look for Eamon's estate.

I ran across Zev, who was trying to convince a noblewoman in the market that he was an Antivan prince here on business with the queen. She didn't fall for it. "I'm Antivan, elf," she informed him. "Antiva has no elven royalty. Away with you before I call the guard."

I was leaning against a post, watching him with an amused eye. He flashed me his most charming grin, shrugged, and approached to greet me. He invited me for a drink before going to Eamon's estate. "Getting into the manor is easy," he said, "but getting out is like escaping from jail. Not so simple. They ask where you go, why you go, when you will be back."

"Is that so? Then yes, let's have that drink before we go in." We headed for the Gnawed Noble.

Part 2 – The Unforgiven

He'd been waiting in the Denerim inn for three days. Listening in on the nobles' conversations and the buzzing gossip around the city had given him a good idea of what was going on and when she would arrive. It could be as soon as today, surely no later than tomorrow. He'd learned on his first day in the city that she and her traveling companions were coming from a town called Redcliffe, a four-day walk from Denerim.

Everywhere one turned there was talk of a landsmeet, and there was a good deal of name-dropping and titles being tossed around. Queen, regent, arl. Two names were most often heard: Loghain and Eamon. He wondered what connection Winter had with this country's leaders, and why she had involved herself in Ferelden's political matters. Wasn't she a Grey Warden?

That in itself had come as a shock when he'd heard it. He couldn't envision her as a soldier of any type, least of all a Grey Warden. She'd always had an affinity for swords and fighting, but she was a ranking noblewoman, for Andraste's sake. Upon the death of her parents, she moved up in line for the throne. Close enough to it that if he were to die leaving no heir, Winter could be the next ruler of Starkhaven.

The locals eyed him curiously but no one approached him. To them, he was just a visiting noble or a soldier come to fight in the war. There was no shortage of soldiers in Denerim these days. He blended in, and that's how he wanted it. The less he was noticed, the better chance he had to observe her until he was ready to make his presence known.

The tavern door opened she walked in, looking more confident, mature, and more beautiful than he remembered. Instead of her usual noblewoman's dress, she wore finely tailored armor of an unusual material he couldn't discern. The armor was flexible enough to mold to her curves, and it ended in a skirt that revealed too much leg, in his opinion. The hem of the armor was several inches above her custom-fitted boots, which were made of the same material as her armor and her gloves. Her dark hair was pulled up into a plain ponytail. Everything about her attire was sensible and functional, but he found her new look alluring. Even with the two longswords strapped to her back, she walked as gracefully as a queen.

An elven man, dressed similarly to her, walked in behind her. He was blond, with a showy coiffeur and a curious tattoo on one side of his face. He was older than her twenty-seven years by a decade or more. More, judging by the elf's weathered appearance. She turned back to speak to her companion, and they sat at a table across the tavern. He watched them. The way they interacted, with smiles and laughter, told him they knew each other well. How well? he wondered. Was this her new love? An elf? He wouldn't have guessed she would be attracted to elven men, especially an aging dandy like that one.

From Sebastian's vantage point, he couldn't see Winter's facial expressions, but he saw how the elf looked at her. The man desired her. The thought of them together made him sick with jealousy. He watched at they handed a sword back and forth, and how the dirty little elf brushed her hand with his fingertips. His blood raged inside. The man was using the same little seduction tricks he used to use. Isolating her from others, humor, eye contact, tactile contact, showing interest in the things that interested her…

Another man entered the tavern and approached her. This one was human, tall with dark hair pulled back in a long braid. She looked up with a smile of recognition and… affection? Winter was a friendly sort, but were all of her companions comely men? The elf didn't appear as happy to see the newcomer. Had the human interrupted his plan to have his way with her?

Winter leaned to the elf and confided something, then rose and accompanied the dark-haired fellow toward the bar. Sebastian lowered his face, hoping she wouldn't notice him there. She was evidently too engrossed with her male companion to notice. He noted that she was more serious with this man than with the elf. No laughter graced their conversation. They didn't speak at all on the way, not to the bar, but into the room beside it. The tavern owner held that room for special guests, parties, and meetings. Winter was no stranger here. The owner greeted her as she passed and showed no surprise that she'd go to the private wing.

Sebastian waited until the owner went to see to her guests and the barkeep was occupied. He rose and eased toward the private wing, trying to be as inconspicuous as he could. The patrons were too busy with their drink and conversation to pay him any attention. The room's door was open and he could hear Winter and her companion talking in somber tones, but he couldn't make out the words. He moved closer, leaning against the end of the bar where it joined the wall. From there he caught the end of their talk.

They moved from the corner where they'd been talking toward the door. He could see them, but he was in shadow and hidden from their view. Not that either of them were looking at anything but each other. The man said earnestly, "I'm not abandoning you. I promise you I'll be back."

"Then go. And may the Maker go with you," she answered him. He knew by the throaty quality of her voice that she was crying. The man embraced her and murmured words Sebastian couldn't hear, but he assumed he was declaring his love and repeating his promise to return. Her arms were around the man's neck, clinging to him like…

…like a lover

… she expected never to see him again. He kissed her on the brow and told her to dry her tears, then he released her and strode toward the main tavern, past Sebastian without a glance, straight to the door and out. Just like that, he'd left her.

Winter lingered a minute in the room, pulling herself together, wiping away tears with her gloved hands, and then returned to her elf companion. She passed right by him and didn't notice him there. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or insulted. Sebastian ordered another flagon of mead, then returned to his table. Winter and the elven man were engaged in serious dialogue, not the high-spirited banter he'd witnessed earlier.

He'd seen enough. It was time to make his presence known to her. He hadn't come all this way to hide out in a tavern and spy on her. They had important matters to discuss—more urgent than anything these Fereldans had to say.

Zev noticed the man watching them but he pretended not to see him. Despite his embarrassing failure on his last assassination job with the Crows, he was a well-trained spy and rogue. He could observe the stranger without his target ever knowing he was being watched.

When Winter went to the side room, the stranger left his seat and followed, eavesdropping from near the door. He was obviously no spy—not a professional one—just an overly curious man. Since Zev didn't know who he was or why he was watching Winter, he went on the assumption that the man could be an agent of Loghain, there to follow her and possibly do her harm. If that were so, he wouldn't live to finish his mission. Before the fellow could raise a hand against his benefactor and friend, Zev's dagger would be buried in his throat.

Winter returned, weepy and in need of cheering. The man also returned to his table and resumed his watch. Zev kept the stranger in his view, out of the corner of his eye. Winter related the latest news and grew quiet. Zev hadn't grown fond of his companions, but Winter was special to him. She didn't put on an air of bravado, nor was she rude and sarcastic like Morrigan. She didn't mope and cling like Leliana. She was honest and direct, and he appreciated it. Maybe she was too kind-hearted for her own good, but he couldn't fault her for it. Alistair mooned over her but Zev still didn't believe Winter felt as drawn to her fellow warden as he was to her. If he thought he had a chance with her, Zev would have pursued her. She made that refusal loud and clear, he thought with an inner smile. Still, it might just be the thing to bring her out of her blue mood.

"You know, lovely Warden, I can take you to a room and massage that sadness away," he offered, half-jokingly.

She gave him a little smile of acknowledgement—she realized he was trying to lift her spirits and meant no disrespect—but it would take more than that to dispel her melancholy. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her eyes were downcast. She didn't want anyone to see how hard she was fighting back tears. The unexpected turn of events had caught her by surprise, and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

In an uncharacteristic gesture of tenderness, Zev put both hands over hers. "Winter, you are my friend. The only one I consider a real friend, if I may be painfully honest. I have no wish to see you unhappy, but I don't know what to do or say to encourage you. Tell me, is there anything I can do for you? Jokes and offers of physical pleasures aside, of course. I am sincere."

"Thank you, Zev. It means a lot to me."

"You must decide soon, however. My offer of gentlemanly conduct won't last long."

She laughed at that. Not her full, joyous laugh, but a decent laugh. He felt she would be alright. Winter was tough and resilient. Nothing kept her down for long.

Morrigan whirled on him angrily. "You're doing what? What about the war? What about me? Is this your way? You share my bed for months and when you weary of me, you move on?"

Aiden tried to embrace her but she held him off. "Morrigan, you know how I feel about you. One thing has nothing to do with the other. This is my family. He's the only family I have left. I have to go to him and tell him what happened to our parents, make sure he's alright, then I'll return. I fully intend to be back before the war."

"I cannot see why you have to rush off for this… this unconcerned relative of yours. Your brother did not take time to search for you or inquire if you had survived the Ostagar massacre. No! He just assumed you'd been killed and eaten by darkspawn and he went on with his business."

Aiden was becoming angry with her. As much as he loved her, he found her insensitive at times, insulting at others, and uncaring of the other party members at all times. At the start of their romance, he had put up with her superior attitude and smugness until he wore her down. Back then he found her irresistible and gorgeous. She was worth the trouble. Now, her pitilessness made him wonder if becoming involved with an apostate, a witch to be exact, wasn't the stupidest thing he could have done.

She ranted, "It doesn't matter what I say or that you know I'm right. You've made up your mind to go after this brother of yours?" He didn't answer. He was done arguing about it. She finished with, "Don't expect me to pine away waiting for you."

"Then don't!" he snapped. "I don't need this possessive woman routine. I love you, Morrigan, but I won't be ruled by a jealous shrew. Let's end this before it gets worse."

"If that is what you wish…"

"It is. Farewell." He stormed out and went to find Winter.

Earlier in the day, a messenger had arrived at the arl's estate looking for him. His brother Fergus, believed killed at Ostagar, had been found alive in the Korcari Wilds, having been wounded by a darkspawn's arrow. He was on his way to Highever and Aiden hoped to intercept him on the way, or reach their old estate ahead of him.

He knew the timing was bad. Winter and the group needed him. But this was family, as he'd tried to explain to Morrigan. She didn't understand his need to go, but he hoped Winter would. He wasn't going to ask her if he could go. He went to tell her he was going.

Aiden came to the tavern and said he urgently needed to speak with me in private. He looked disturbed, and I was put on my guard. What could have happened to plunge him into such a serious mood? He was normally unperturbed and sometimes flippant, but when I got to know him, I believed his pranks and wisecracks were a mask to hide his sensitive side. Like me, as I've mentioned, he had lost his family to brutal murderers. One cannot live through such a traumatic loss and come out of it completely unchanged.

We went to the room Edwina reserved for special occasions. There, Aiden floored me by telling me he needed to leave right away, and if all went well, he'd be back before the war began. He explained that his older brother hadn't been lost at Ostagar as he'd thought.

"If you can believe this, the lucky bastard got an arrow through the thigh. He's alive today because he couldn't make it back to the fortress. A Chaisnd family took him in. Chaisnd! Can you believe it? They healed his wounds and kept him safe until he was well enough to travel."

He was understandably excited, but I was disappointed that I'd not only be losing one of my best fighters, but a friend as well. "That's wonderful news, Aiden," I said, knowing I couldn't find it in my heart to insist he stay. Knowing, too, that no matter what I said, he would go to his brother.

"You do understand, don't you? I have to try to reach him before he gets to our old Highever estate and finds the wreck Rendon Howe made of it. I don't know if Howe has set up house for one of his mistresses there, but occupied or not, I'm certain the estate is guarded. If I can't reach him before he gets there…" he trailed off. We both knew what might happen to Fergus if he ran across Howe or his guards.

"I do understand. This is family. If I were in your position, I can't say I wouldn't do the same." I understood alright, but I couldn't help feeling an aching emptiness. I was fond of Aiden, and I'd grown closer to him—protective, like a sister—after his brush with death in the Deep Roads. My brave front was crumbling and my eyes betrayed me by filling with tears.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "You won't get rid of me that easily." We walked toward the door, and he stopped to reassure me again. "I'm not abandoning you. I promise you I'll be back."

He reached for me to embrace me, and I flung my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. He responded with a gentle chuckle. "If I'd known this was how you'd react, I would have left sooner. And often."

I was too saddened to laugh. "I'll miss you," I whispered. He kissed me on the brow in response. His kindness only made his leaving harder to bear. "Go, then. And may the Maker go with you."

"Explain it to Alistair for me, okay? He was locked up with Arl Eamon and I couldn't get to him." He pulled back to look at me. "Dry those tears. I'm not going to let you face the archdemon without me." I withdrew from his embrace. He gave me an encouraging smile, then he was gone.

Part 3 – There Must be Some Misunderstanding

"Winter."

The voice, the accent, the way he rolled the 'r' at the end of my name… It was Sebastian.

"What brings you to Ferelden, Brother Sebastian?" I greeted him, disguising my surprise with sarcasm. "You do realize there's a blight here, right?"

"Do you know this person?" Zev asked before Sebastian could answer.

"Yes, it's alright Zev. I know him."

Zev turned his cold golden gaze on Sebastian. "Count yourself lucky, sir. If you had continued to stalk my mentor…"

"That's enough, please," I said to Zev.

Sebastian ignored him and his threat. "Winter, can I speak with you? Alone?"

I assured Zev I was in no danger, and accompanied Sebastian to his table. I had a lot to do, little time, and didn't need any distractions, so I cut right to the chase. "What are you doing here?" My tone wasn't welcoming.

"I have news from Starkhaven that you need to hear," he said. "My parents were murdered last month, just like yours were. Not only them, but my brothers and my sister too. I was in Kirkwall when it happened and the killers didn't know where to find me."

Not wanting to sound heartless, but having no time to spend commiserating with an old flame, I said, "You have my heartfelt condolences. Your parents were wonderful people. Is that all? I'm expected…"

"There's more, if you can spare a few minutes." He was holding his temper in check, but barely. "I learned who killed them. A group of mercenaries calling themselves the Flint Company. They are the same ones that killed your parents."

"I see." The information was of little use to me, and no use right now, until the blight was ended. Even then I couldn't set foot in Starkhaven, so I couldn't track them and exact vengeance. "You could have told me this in a letter instead of coming here."

"Are you still so bitter over what I did to you?" His tone softened and he looked remorseful. "I will get to that in a minute. First, I have this for you." He slid a scroll across the table. "It's the deed to your estate in Starkhaven. When I inherited my parents' estate, I learned my mother had bought your house and lands. It's rightfully yours, Winter."

I pushed it back to him. "Keep it. I have no need of it. I've been exiled from Starkhaven, remember?"

"One of my many stupid mistakes," he sighed. "That ruling has been overturned. You are free to come back home."

"I am home. Now, if you're finished, I have an important meeting to attend."

"I'm not finished. We aren't finished. Winter, I was wrong. I said things to you that I shouldn't have said, and I did things I will regret as long as I live. But one thing I don't regret is the love we shared." He reached to take my hand but I pulled back.

Alistair entered the tavern and saw Zev at the table nearest the door. He sat across from him. Zev called his attention to the stranger from Starkhaven that had been watching me and with whom I was now conversing. Alistair started to rise, but Zev advised him to wait and see what would transpire. For once, Alistair took his advice, but he wasn't too thrilled to find me with my former fiancé.

Sebastian continued. "You asked why I was here. There is more. I tracked the Flint Company to Ferelden. To Denerim. They're here in the city. I came to get you to safety before…"

How stupid did he think me? I interrupted his outrageous lie. "Why, what a brilliant plan! If I were running from justice, the first place I'd go is to a country on the brink of being completely overrun by darkspawn and where I had little chance of survival. No one would think to look for me there."

We locked eyes until he was forced to drop his gaze. "Alright. So you saw through my story."

"Lying has become a habit for you, hasn't it, Brother Sebastian? Maybe the grand cleric can counsel you, and then…"

"I've left the chantry." It was his turn to interrupt me. "After my parents were murdered, and no one did anything to bring the killers to justice, I couldn't stay there and do nothing. I've taken back our lands and our castle."

"Congratulations," I said dryly.

What does he want from me? Why does he think I care if he's a prince or a chantry brother? He's been out of my life for two years now.

He looked surprised by my coolness. "What's happened to you, Winter MacEwan? You're not the girl I used to know."

"No, I'm not that naïve, daydreaming child you remember, Sebastian. I have a new life and a purpose and a new home. I've put Starkhaven and all its memories behind me. That includes memories of you and our former relationship, and even the way it ended. It's over, it's past…"

"Come back with me, Winter," he said, as if I hadn't just told him I was over him. "I am truly, deeply sorry for what I did to you. There is nothing I can say that can excuse what I did. But the reason for it was this: I wanted to be in the chantry but I couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. So I thought of the chaste marriage—"

"Which no chantry would allow."

"That is correct. But I was so desperate to keep you to myself, and so arrogant in my title, that I thought my family's position could sway the grand cleric. She wouldn't hear of it."

"Well Sebastian, thank you for coming, thank you for your apology and your explanation, you are forgiven, and it's time you leave. I have things to tend to that I can't put off any longer."

"Can you not spare me another two minutes?" He pleaded so pitifully that I relented. When I gave a nod, he stated his ultimate purpose in coming to Ferelden. "I came to take you back home. I love you. I've never stopped loving you. Come back to Starkhaven and be princess, as you should be. I swear by the Maker that I'll never hurt you again. Just say you'll come back to me."

"No."

"That's all you can say? 'No'? Without thinking it over or considering our future together?"

"We have no future together, Sebastian. I'm sorry. I do hate having to be so blunt, but I will never return to Starkhaven for any reason. What we had is long past, and long dead. I can't revive feelings that are gone, and feelings that I don't want. Please, for your own sake, go back to your land and forget me."

He reached across the table and snatched my hand. "Winter, you must reconsider…"

"She told you to leave." Alistair stood over us. His eyes were smoldering with rage. "I suggest you do so now, before I have to throw you out of my city."

"Your city, is it? Are you the king of Ferelden, then?" Sebastian challenged. Then he peered at Alistair's face. "Wait… you have the look of a Theirin. You could be Cailin's brother."

Alistair glared at him in stony silence, waiting for him to leave. Or hoping he would draw a weapon…

"Holy Andraste, you are Cailin's brother! You're the Alistair the nobles have been talking about. King Maric's illegitimate son." Sebastian's eyes narrowed and he looked back at me. "So that's what you're about, is it? You jump from prince to prince, hoping to find one to marry you. What happens when this one dies in the blight? Will you go to another country and charm your way into another prince's bed?"

Alistair snatched him by his collar, yanked him out of his chair, and punched him in the face with all his strength. Sebastian literally flew through the air backwards, crashing against the bar and crumpling to the floor, semi-conscious and bleeding from the mouth and nose. Zev stood by with his daggers drawn. I was still in my seat, too surprised by Sebastian's scathing insults and Alistair's swift reaction to move. The inn was as quiet as a tomb.

Alistair motioned to Zev, who sheathed his daggers and walked with him to where Sebastian slumped. They took him by the feet and dragged him to the door. Alistair kicked it open and they flung the Prince of Starkhaven out into the market square. He landed at the feet of a city guard.

"This man assaulted a woman in the tavern," he said, bending the truth a little and making it sound like a physical attack rather than a verbal one.

"What's going on, Warden?" Sergeant Kylon asked. He recognized us from our dealings months ago. "What has this man done?"

His guard answered, "He says the fellow attacked a woman."

"Yes, my companion and fellow Warden," Alistair explained.

Kylon remembered me, and he wasn't having it. "How would you like this handled, Warden?"

Alistair answered, "I'd like him put on the next ship leaving Ferelden, if possible. Put a guard on him and make sure he doesn't get off the ship until it's cleared the port."

"Consider it done," Kylon agreed. He had his men carry Sebastian out of the gates.

"Let's get to Eamon's estate. He's been waiting for you." Alistair's tone was still harsh. Maybe he was angry at me for speaking with Sebastian, but I wasn't ready to ask any man's permission to speak with whomever I wanted—including those I didn't want to speak to, but unfinished business needed to be settled.

"Alright," I answered. I would have preferred to make the short walk in silence, but I did have to tell him about Aiden. "On the way, I need to talk to you. You're not going to like it."

"Well why not?" he snapped. "I haven't liked anything else about the day so far. Let's hear it."

"It's about Aiden…"