Chapter 28 - The Young and the Restless

Part 1 – Last Wishes

Once Jaden and I were settled in at the estate, Alistair wanted us to visit the palace. We hadn't seen Eamon since before Teagan's death. When we entered the court, I hardly recognized him as the man who helped lead the armies from Redcliffe to Denerim a few years ago. He was pale and bony, his beard and hair thinning and dull, his eyes filmy. When he embraced me, he had the stench of impending death about him. It permeated his clothing and his breath reeked of it. He had little time left. Maybe a few weeks, but no more. I understood now why he deeded his estate to me. He was transferring his goods to the last blood member of the Guerrin line—Teagan's son Jaden.

Eamon called me aside for a private talk. "I'm hoping you would grant me a favor before the Maker calls me home," he said. "I've been thinking about Connor. Might you know someone who could give me news of his whereabouts? According to law I can't see him, but perhaps I could learn of his well-being?"

"I do know someone, and I'll see to it right away," I said. I would have to be quick. Eamon's frail body could slip into a coma before his demise. Fate and love had been cruel to this virtuous man. If it were within my power, I would bring him news of his son before he died. "Eamon, hold on. It may take me a week but I promise you I'll be back with news of Connor."

"Maker bless you," he said in his shaky voice. "Make haste, if you would." The implication was clear. If I dawdled or allowed anything to hinder me, I wouldn't make it back in time.

I excused myself from him and spoke with Alistair. "I have an errand to run for Eamon. May I leave Jaden with Duncan's nanny until—"

"I was rather hoping the two boys could be under her care," he interrupted. "Duncan adores him as you've seen, and Jaden is a protective 'big brother'. The nanny is excellent with Duncan, and I'm picky about who cares for and educates him."

"Perfect. Thanks," I called over my shoulder on the way out the palace.

"Wait, where are you going? Winter?"

"No time to chat. I'll see you soon."

Unsatisfied with my hurried answer, he trotted after me. "What's going on? You've just arrived and already you're leaving on a mystery errand? Please, tell me—"

I gave him a short explanation, hitting only the main points, not slowing my pace as we talked. He understood and offered to send a company of guards with me. I protested. He protested back. As king, he won out. His men would follow at a short distance to allow me the illusion of being alone, but that was as far as he would bend on the issue. It was good enough, as there was no time to debate. And truly, he was right. My route would take me across the broad plains of central Ferelden. A small company of guards might be needed, if for nothing more than for a show of force.

We parted company at the castle gates. I half-walked, half-jogged across town toward my manor, taking shortcuts through alleys and bypassing the more crowded areas—a risky move, because these days I went about in noblewoman's clothing, unarmed. I might as well have gone naked. I felt exposed without my blades and armor.

Familiarity with the city's layout brought me beside the Gnawed Noble in no time. I passed through the portcullis that separated the estate from the market. Inside the double doors, I restrained myself from running upstairs to the master suite, trying to keep some semblance of sanity in front of the servants.

My things weren't yet unpacked, but after a bit of rummaging about I found my dragonskin armor, boots, and gloves, and I changed clothing. I strapped on my two swords and tucked a couple of daggers into my belt and boots, fastened the spellward pendant around my neck and slipped the lifegiver ring on my right hand. It was a snug fit, but I wasn't able to remove my wedding band from my left hand at this time. It was too soon to cut every tie…

No. Don't think on it. The wound is too fresh and the pain too raw. Grief will paralyze me.

I ran my fingers through my hair and gathered it into a ponytail, the way I used to wear it when I was a warden. A quick check of my pack assured me it contained what little I might need on my errand.

In my armor again, armed and ready for travel, I felt more alive than I had in a long time. This was what had been missing in my life—action, adventure, and excitement that went beyond my sedate existence in Rainesfere.

Not to be misunderstood, let me say it plainly: I was happy in my marriage. I'd loved Teagan dearly. I adored being his wife and Jaden's mother. My family was everything to me, as cliché as that sounds. I cannot say I was unfulfilled, nor did I feel I was missing out on anything back then. But in those roles—wife, mother, and arlessa in name only (I was a foreigner, after all)—I forgot how exhilarating it was to be myself: Grey Warden Winter MacEwan.

Another advantage that could not be discounted: Being active again would distract me from the gnawing heartache that stayed with me day and night, haunting me like a malignant spirit no matter how I tried to ignore it. It was too recent and his death too sudden for me to keep my thoughts from straying to my loss and the inevitable pain. It would be long before I adjusted to life without Teagan. I was less practical than he'd been, but I recognized wallowing in grief would serve no purpose. Teagan would want me to keep my mourning period brief—not adhering to the customary year merely for the sake of following foolish custom. He wanted me to be happy, even if I had to find that happiness without him. What he would not have wanted, however, was the seething rage I felt toward his killer, and the need for vengeance.

Everything was in order for my task. Eamon still kept a pair of horses in the stables. The steward asked if I wanted one brought round. I waved him off, telling him I'd take care of it myself. The first mount I saw would do. She was a fine, sturdy mare, not too old but too long neglected. She was about to get a good workout. In those days, saddles were simply made, functional and easy to secure. Within minutes I was off for Lake Calenhad with six of Alistair's guards in tow.

Horses were rarely seen inside the city gates. Only the king and his entourage rode to and from the palace stables, located just inside the walls at the southwestern end of the city. So you can imagine the stares and startled exclamations I got when I rode by at a canter, wishing I could break into a full gallop because the need was pressing.

As soon as I'd passed out of the city proper, I dug my heels into the mare's flanks and she leapt forward, reveling in her freedom to run as much as I enjoyed her speed and the feel of wind in my face. I turned her west toward the Lake Calenhad docks.

Cullen hadn't been too pleased with me when he learned I had conscripted Anders. I didn't know the knight-commander well, but everyone knew he was strict. He was a fine templar, without a doubt, but he'd seen the evil blood mages could do, and it hardened him to their sufferings. He ran Kinloch Hold with a fair but firm hand, and his templars were some of the most disciplined fighters in Ferelden. If Connor were in the tower at Lake Calenhad, I'd have to gain Cullen's trust to see him. If Connor were still in Kirkwall, Cullen could tell me of that too—if he were of a mind to share information.

The knight-commander greeted me cordially. "To what do I owe this honor, Warden? I assure you I'm not holding any darkspawn in the tower." He said it with a smile, and I hoped it was a good sign.

I didn't bother correcting him on my title. Technically, because of my taint, I would always be a Grey Warden. "I'm on a mission of mercy, Knight-Commander," I said. "A dying man's last wish, if you'd be so kind as to grant it."

"If it's within my power," Cullen answered with a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"It is, Ser Cullen. It's within your power, and as a servant of the Maker, it's your duty."

Cullen prompted, "Say on, then." I explained about Eamon and his desire to know his son was well.

Cullen let out a long breath and averted his eyes. My heart froze. Had something happened to Connor? Was he not here? I refused to let my imagination stray to the worst of all possibilities.

"You know the law, Warden," Cullen answered at last. "We don't give information about the mages to anyone outside the chantry and the Order."

It was a cheap shot but I was desperate. "I saved your life once, Cullen. If you won't do it for the chancellor, do it for me because you owe me. Is the boy here?"

"He's here," Cullen answered, to my relief. "And he's well. No trouble, obedient, intelligent. Anything else?"

"His father wants to see him," I said. "Please, Knight-Commander. He's an old man who's lost everything. Now he's dying. Can't you make this one exception?"

He'd recognized me from the start, but his memory was of me as a warden. Recent events caught up to him. "Arlessa Guerrin," he said. "Condolences on the passing of your husband. May the Maker grant him peace."

"Yes, thank you, but that's not why I'm here," I said with mounting impatience. Recalling the rumors of how he ruled with the proverbial iron fist, I cautioned myself, Don't antagonize him. I made a hasty but sincere apology. "Forgive me, Knight-Commander, but the chancellor's time is short. His son is all that's left of his family."

"The boy is a mage, Arlessa. The Order dictates that all mages be housed within the tower for life. There are no exceptions."

"You're still angry because I conscripted Anders, aren't you?" I snapped. So much for patient self-control.

His smile was grim. "You did me a favor taking Anders out of here, but the fact remains that he's a mage and mages belong under supervision."

"We had Bryant!" I protested. "He supervised Anders. Everything was fine."

"Is that so? Where is Anders now?"

"He… Anders resigned from the wardens once the darkspawn threat was eradicated," I stammered. Damn him. He's trying to make me look incompetent.

"You don't know where he is, do you?" Shame-faced, I shook my head. He continued, " I have a good deal of information on Anders. When he left Amaranthine he went to Kirkwall, laid low, started a clinic for the poor—admirable, if it weren't a cover for aiding the underground apostate network. He's been seen in the company of a woman by the name of Hawke. An apostate, and a sympathizer to Anders' cause. Hawke and Anders are possibly the two most dangerous people in Kirkwall despite Hawke's heroic acts and her 'Champion of Kirkwall' status.

"Because of Anders and his companion, I've been reassigned to the Gallows in Kirkwall to stop him before he causes an uprising that tears the city apart. These two mages—Anders and Hawke, may cause more havoc than a ship full of Qunari did." His tone changed to one of frustrated indignation. "I'm being demoted, and I'll have to serve under the most ruthless knight-commander in Thedas. Meredith runs the Gallows like a true prison."

Whoever this Meredith was, he or she sounded like a tyrant. Anders would die before he let himself be captured, I feared. He was adamant about freedom for mages when I last saw him. From what Cullen told me, he'd become a bona fide zealot.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Knight-Commander Cullen, and sorrier still that a great Fereldan will die without seeing his son just because he married a woman who concealed the truth about the magic in her lineage. I'll take my leave."

Cullen, understandably incensed about his unfair demotion, made a quick decision. "Arlessa, can the chancellor travel? Could he come to the Circle?"

"I fear not, Ser. If he still lives, he would die in the journey." It seemed all of this was for naught, but I did appreciate Cullen's offer to let Eamon visit Connor. It simply wasn't possible.

"Then we'll bring the lad to him," Cullen said to my astonishment. "I'll have him brought down and we can leave for Denerim right away."

Connor was about eighteen years old. His boyish red hair had softened to dark blonde like Isolde's, and his facial features were delicate rather than bold like Eamon's. In truth, he had none of the Guerrin physical traits. I wondered if Eamon were his real father, but it was a thought I would keep to myself.

The three of us arrived at the palace to learn Eamon's health had taken a bad turn. He was bedridden and not expected to live more than a day. Connor was brought upstairs to see him.

There are no adequate words to describe the touching reunion I witnessed. Connor approached the side of the bed where his father lay. Eamon's eyes were closed, but he roused himself when I called his name.

"I've brought you a visitor," I said, then moved away to let Connor see his father.

Connor's eyes filled with tears. "I remember you," the lad said softly. "Father. It's me, Connor."

Eamon summoned all his strength to sit up, and he embraced his son for the first time in a decade. They were weeping. Cullen and I exited the room to allow them some privacy.

A few days later, when the nobles of Ferelden had gathered in Denerim, Alistair held a memorial for the late Chancellor Eamon Guerrin. It was a grand state affair with full honors, as befitting Eamon's station. Within a month the country had lost two of its most highly respected, most devoted patricians—Teagan and Eamon. The country would go on and eventually forget these men, and they would become footnotes in the history books. They were both heroes, and the loss could not be overstated.

Alistair mourned for Eamon and regretted things he'd said to him, but fortunately it was a short-lived guilt episode. He was grateful, though, that Connor and Eamon were able to see each other one last time before Eamon passed on. It was the best gift we could have given him.

The search for a new chancellor began, and Alistair asked me to fill the position temporarily. I had to decline. Politics was a lot of cajolery to me and I thought it distasteful and dishonest. When I suggested Valendrian would make a better candidate, he answered that the people were too closed-minded and wouldn't accept an elf in the royal court. That being the case, they would be just as reluctant to accept a foreigner like me. I'd rather not put it to the test. He disagreed, but he understood and graciously accepted my refusal (the disappointment in his eye and tone evident).

He said, "I do have a somewhat pressing matter that can't be put off much longer, and I need someone trustworthy to come along with me on a diplomatic trip. Eamon usually traveled with me, but without a chancellor I find myself in a bind. So I appeal to you as a friend: Would you be interested in going to Kirkwall?"

"Kirkwall? Whatever for?"

"I'd like to meet the Champion of Kirkwall," he explained. "I've heard good reports about her—mainly that she and a small party put down the Qunari uprising, and that Hawke battled the Arishok one-on-one and defeated him. Because of that, the people hold her in high regard. An alliance with her could prove useful in the future. Did I mention she's Fereldan? From Lothering."

I'd tuned out at the mention of her name. Hawke. The Hawke that Cullen spoke of, no doubt. Yes indeed, I was interested in going with Alistair to Kirkwall. If Anders was one of her companions, this could be my chance to prove to Cullen (and myself) his fears were unfounded.

"When do we leave?"

He grinned, "So eager to get out of Denerim! It hasn't escaped my notice that you've started wearing your armor and weapons again. I suppose city life is dull in comparison to being a Grey Warden."

"You always were the observant one," I rejoined. "Those stiflingly tight, ugly-colored dresses aren't my style. As for city life…" I trailed off, shrugged, and conveyed my meaning to him more eloquently than by saying it outright: I was bored out of my wits.

There were no other pressing matters on Alistair's schedule, so as soon as his steward could arrange passage for us, we could leave for the Free Marches. The boys would be in the care of their nanny and the palace staff so there were no worries on that account. Other than our misgivings over being away from them for a month or so, we were anxious to get under way.

We didn't have to wait long. A ship was set to depart for Kirkwall in a few days from Highever—a short sail compared to taking ship in Denerim. We planned to leave the palace at dawn and travel straight through to Highever with few rest stops. Once again, the time we spent as wardens proved invaluable. Hardship was a way of life back then. I teased Alistair about having gone soft in the palace with all his servants and boot-lickers, but in truth he hadn't lost a bit of his former discipline. The man was as tough as he'd been in the midst of the blight. I just hoped I hadn't gone soft during my years of pampering in Rainesfere. I made a mental note to make good use of the estate's large armory upon our return. Looking ahead to Jaden's future, I could be of more use to my son as a fighter than as an advisor.

Part 2 – The Champion of Kirkwall

Kirkwall was in turmoil when we arrived. Knight-Commander Meredith got wind of our arrival and intercepted us before Alistair had a chance to meet with Hawke. The knight-commander was rude, disrespectful to a foreign monarch, and from what I could see, she was too full of self-importance to care about the people of Kirkwall. Hawke and company arrived in time to hear her insult Alistair before she stormed off.

Hawke was a beautiful woman with a humorous-sarcastic personality. Her dark brown hair was caught in a loose, low ponytail, leaving strands free to frame her face. She had blue-green eyes that sparkled with mirth. Anders stood beside her, and it was evident from his body language he was possessive of her. It wasn't unexpected, as Cullen had told me they were involved, but I was surprised to find Sebastian in her party, along with the white-haired elf with the lyrium markings on his skin—what was his name?

Fenris. That was it. Why would he be helping mages? He made no secret of his hatred of magic and all those who practiced it.

Hawke and Alistair spoke briefly. Evidently Meredith's untimely arrival thwarted his plans for this encounter, and he was left with little to say to her other than to admonish her to use her popularity to help keep order in Kirkwall. His aim was to have her take the post as viscount, but since she was a mage and wouldn't get the backing of the templars, it disqualified her from office. Anders' eyes flickered with disapproval. While she and Alistair were conversing, I took Sebastian aside to speak with him alone.

"What are you doing with these people?" I asked. "Don't you realize Hawke and Anders are apostates, and the last thing on their agenda is a peaceful Kirkwall?"

"It's good to see you, too, Winter," he smiled. "You jump right in with a reprimand. I'm glad to see you've not changed too much over the years."

I started over on a calmer note. "I'm sorry. Hello, Sebastian. I trust you are well."

Enough pleasantries? There are more important things than manners and customs, my friend.

He answered my earlier demand, "You're right about Anders, but Hawke is a good woman. Besides, I owe Hawke. She went out of her way to help me get justice for our parents' murderers—your parents as well as mine. You should be grateful to her for that."

"As much as that might matter to you, it's simple revenge. My parents aren't 'resting easier'. You know I don't believe in such superstition. I'm aware of Hawke's good deeds, but none of those make up for the fact that she is an apostate, and she's flaunting her freedom from the Circle as much as Anders is. Rumor has it she's protecting and aiding him in his insane quest to free all mages from the chantry and the templars' supervision. How can you support them? Even if those rumors are false, and I hope they are, Champion or not, she's breaking a long-standing chantry law."

Alistair had finished his meeting with Hawke and was waiting for me. And glaring at Sebastian.

"I don't really support her in the mage thing, but… Winter, it's complicated. Hawke's intentions aren't self-serving, unlike Anders' agenda. She sees the abuses and prejudices from a mage's perspective, and she could be the best one to put an end to the fighting between the templars and the mages. Anders, on the other hand, wants to be rid of the templars no matter the cost. My hope is, if I'm around to influence her, she may come to see through his smooth talk and lies. Because I have no doubt he is lying to her even while he claims to love her."

I admonished him, "Be careful, Sebastian. You might be too close to the situation to see what's really going on. It might be better to break with them before you're too deeply involved."

"Involved in what? Do you know something I don't?"

"Nothing definite. But know your friends are being closely watched. One misstep will land them in the Gallows, and I think you're aware Anders will sacrifice his life, and Hawke's as well, to keep from being locked up again."

"I believe he would at that," he frowned. "I have tried to warn Hawke about him but she won't hear of it. She believes herself in love with him, and she trusts every word he says."

"Well, please, just be careful," I repeated before Anders walked up behind me and greeted me.

"If it isn't my old commander, the woman who saved my life from the templars. Good to see you."

"Likewise, Anders." He sounded so genuine I was thrown off guard. This man was a danger to Kirkwall? Surely Cullen's intel was mistaken.

"I'm so sorry about your husband," he continued. "Is your son well?"

We talked for a couple of minutes, and I could feel Alistair's eyes shooting invisible flaming arrows at Anders like he'd done with Sebastian. In a way, it was amusing to see him being overprotective (or possessive). He knew better than anyone I could handle myself.

Fenris and I exchanged pleasantries—if "pleasantries" applied to him, considering he was a quiet, sullen sort. His body language practically shouted his extreme dislike of Anders and conflicted feelings for Hawke. He admired her, but she was a mage and involved with Anders. The whole affair seemed rather messy, and I suspected "affair" was the proper term. Fenris and Hawke had some kind of history. He'd taken to wearing a red cloth tied about his wrist but I was unfamiliar with the practice. Regardless, it was none of my business, and not what we'd come here for.

Hawke, having finally gotten my attention, said with a smile, "So, Hero of Ferelden, is it?"

"Champion of Kirkwall, is it?" I smiled back. "Titles. So cumbersome, yes? I'm Winter."

"From Starkhaven, like our own Sebastian. Do you two know each other?"

"Yes. He's a longtime friend, very dear to me." My remark brought another icy glare from Alistair, who'd had it with all the testosterone in the room.

He brusquely suggested it was time for us to leave, as he wanted to rest and sightsee before our ship sailed later in the week. When we said our goodbyes to Hawke and her party, we took the long walk through the keep's portico and down the stairs. On the way, Alistair voiced his already too-obvious displeasure.

"That Sebastian fellow you were talking to—isn't he your ex-fiancé, the one I threw out of the Gnawed Noble?"

"Yes. And he's also the one who helped us against the archdemon."

"Well, I don't trust his motives. Or the strange elf with the silver tattoos. Or this Anders, either. Why's he so curious about Jaden? He was very interested in your being a widow and—"

"You're cute when you're jealous," I interrupted.

"You think so? Wait. No. You're trying to change the subject."

"Yes I am. Is it working?"

"Well… yes, sort of."

"Good. Now let's go find the city's finest inn. I'm starved."

"Crafty woman. You're speaking my language," he relented.

After lunch we crossed the harbor to the Gallows to find Cullen. He stood watch at the bottom of the stairs leading the mages' living quarters. From what I could see, Kirkwall's Circle was better organized and more sensibly constructed than the tower in Lake Calenhad.

When he saw us, he dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of respect for Alistair. It was a sight I hadn't yet gotten used to, and I wondered if I were expected to do the same in the king's presence. If so, he hadn't mentioned it and didn't seem to care if I were "irreverent". Or more likely, he'd come to expect that sort of behavior from me by now.

We talked briefly about our meeting with Hawke and Anders. Cullen scowled at the mention of their names. "Hawke has undoubtedly done a lot of good for Kirkwall, but her association with Anders concerns me greatly. And she's also an apostate. Knight-Commander Meredith tolerates her freedom only because she's the Champion of Kirkwall and is highly respected by the populace. But a time will come—I suspect quite soon—when we'll see where her loyalties lie. My guess is she will side with Anders in whatever he does."

Alistair grimaced at the mention of Meredith's name. "You have to serve under than shrew? You have my pity."

"She is… a bit strict," Cullen stammered, choosing his words carefully. "She's doing what she thinks is best for the city and for the mages. I've yet to find fault with her."

"Give it time," Alistair said. "I think you'll find plenty of fault."

Cullen steered the subject away from his superior. "If you two will be in Kirkwall for a while, I'd recommend you meet with Grand Cleric Elthina. If anyone can bring some peace and order between the two factions—Meredith and the First Enchanter—it would be she. Provided either side will listen to her."

We finished up the meeting, too weary for another visit. Alistair had his hands full with Ferelden. He didn't intend to take on Kirkwall's problems. We decided to let the officials take care of things here, whether it be Hawke and her companions or Meredith or the grand cleric. Alistair's one complaint was that they had taken Cullen without consulting him. That was how the chantry operated, but it galled him all the same.

I said flippantly, but truthfully, "I don't know about you, Your Majesty, but I'm ready for a solid night's sleep. Do you have an idea of what you'd like to see while we're here? I'd like to get it over with before we go. I've had enough of the Free Marches."

"Not homesick at all, are you? For the Marches, I mean. If you're homesick for Ferelden, I rather like the though of it. It is your home, you know."

"I have nothing here," I answered. "My life is there, with Jaden and Duncan." After a pause, I added, "And with you."

"Oh, well, thanks for the afterthought," he said with mock indignation.

"Don't mention it," I smiled.

Recent months, particularly the first six months after Teagan's death, had brought us closer. He was steady as a rock when I needed emotional support, until deep mourning gave way to sorrow, then finally to bittersweet memories I could reflect upon without the aching emptiness inside. He was attentive to Jaden, not trying to replace Teagan but providing a strong father figure (in the guise of "Uncle" Alistair), which I appreciated more than I could express.

As for the future, there was a lot I had to do before I could think of anything beyond friendship with any man. Even one as dear to me, as caring, and as attractive as Alistair.

Part 3 – Bird in a Gilded Cage

Alistair kept watch over his new little family—Maker, he wished they were really his family!—and was impressed by the maturity with which Jaden accepted his father's death. Most adults would have been devastated, particularly considering how Teagan died, but aside from being quieter than before, Jaden was still… well, Jaden. He was far more advanced emotionally and intellectually than others his age, but those who didn't know about the whole dragon-soul thing thought him a brilliant, well-mannered, contemplative boy.

Winter handled things differently. Her mourning period was brief, but not unduly so. Teagan's death had been a terrible blow, but she rebounded within a few months. Alistair had known her for almost nine years and he had yet to figure her out. Maybe it was in her nature to put the past behind her rather than dwell on things she couldn't change. But when she met a challenge she couldn't overcome by any other means, she had a tendency to resort to action—violent action. Because of this, Alistair was deeply concerned.

Not only had she been wearing her arms and armor again, but she'd also begun to take short trips to Maker-knew-where, not giving any explanation. Jaden was unperturbed, but Alistair didn't think these trips were mini-vacations. She was up to something—releasing her rage on some of Ferelden's criminal element, perhaps, because she always returned from an outing with new blood stains on her armor.

Alistair purposed to follow her one day, as soon as his damned busy schedule would allow. He had to find out where she was going, and if she was putting herself in danger, to try to talk some sense into his hard-headed love.

Is it wrong to admit to myself that I still love her, that nothing's changed, and I would marry her today if she would consent to it—mourning year be damned? Admitting it to her, on the other hand… She would likely be outraged to learn of my selfishness—thinking of my own feelings for her instead of her feelings for Teagan.

She was warming up to him; he was sure of that much. But still she held him at arm's length, which wasn't wholly unexpected considering her recent widowhood. Nonetheless, he'd been pining for her for almost a decade. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, and he lacked the smoothness of amorous men like their old warden companion Aiden Cousland. She had to know how he felt. If she did, she gave no sign of mutual attraction.

"Am I ever going to catch a break with this woman?" he grumbled to himself aloud.

Part 4 – Old Friends, New Assignments

Life in Denerim was as I'd expected—busy, noisy, dusty, and impersonal. Before long, one could learn to tune out the merchants who called out to passers by from their stalls and the town gossips who huddled near alleyways spreading rumors. In the rare times I visited the market, I was recognized and treated with courtesy, but I had no friends and no close acquaintances.

To be truthful, Alistair was my only companion, though his duties kept him busy more than he liked, as well as the frequent trips around Ferelden. Since he still hadn't found a replacement for Eamon, the business of politics fell to him. When he was in Denerim and the tedious business of the court and nobles was done, he took it for granted Jaden and I would have our evening meals with him and Duncan. He brought a sense of family to my son, and, admittedly, to me, too. I grew accustomed to his presence more than I realized. The palace felt empty when he was away.

On my recommendation, Alistair summoned Fergus Cousland to Denerim to see if he would make a suitable chancellor in Eamon's stead. The king couldn't leave matters in Denerim unattended as much as he did, and he didn't want to travel more than he had to if he had a chancellor to handle most of the disputes and whatnot around the country.

Fergus was a natural leader, and Alistair appointed him to the post in a grand ceremony at the palace. Fergus had remarried, this time to a lovely city elf named Silanni. Their union caused a stir among people who still viewed elves as inferior, but Silanni won over everyone she met with her quiet charm and grace, and her delicate beauty. She and Fergus had three young children, all boys. They took up residence in the palace, to Duncan's utter delight.

Alistair assigned half of the traveling to his chancellor so neither man had to spend too much time away from their families. Alistair was a fair man, mindful of others, and it was a quality he would not lose because of power or position. Duncan saw more of his papa, Fergus' children did not lack, and the atmosphere in the palace improved markedly. The noise level rose considerably as well, but it was the sound of happiness that filled the old stone walls.

Aiden became teyrn of Highever. Fergus joked that his brother and sister-in-law had spawned a small village of Cousland children, and probably needed an arl to see to the other people in the region. Alfstanna's bannorn was adjacent to Highever, so at her people's insistence, she retained her title of Bann of Waking Sea along with her position of teyrna. The woman was unstoppable, I thought. I couldn't handle Redcliffe and Rainesfere with just one child. She had… what was it… eight children? Nine? More? I lost count long ago.

The palace was full, but my home felt emptier by comparison. On a recent evening, I went to my manor alone after dinner—Jaden opted to stay over at the palace with the other boys. The servants walked about on cat's feet, tending to their duties and conversing with each other in subdued tones "so as not to disturb the arlessa," as they still referred to me. Perth was there keeping watch, but we rarely spoke to each other. Loneliness was suffocating me.

"Teagan," I whispered aloud as I readied for bed, "I'm trying, love, but I'm not getting on so well without you." For the first time in months, without knowing quite why, I cried myself to sleep.

Denerim lacked the scenic beauty of Rainesfere. Though located on the coast, one could only get a glimpse of the sea from the docks—not a pretty sight, and the smell of fish was enough to keep me well away from that sector.

Other than the trip to Kirkwall, the one time I'd had any excitement was when I went to the Circle to bring Connor to see Eamon. Both events were months past, and the lack of activity brought on a sense of apathy toward most everything. I had to do something soon, because I felt useless. Being the mother of a seven-year-old boy (who behaved like a lad twice his age), I couldn't very well return to the wardens. Ferelden was clear of darkspawn but there were stories of a recently discovered, ancient thaig outside Kirkwall, and from what I heard, Grey Wardens were investigating it. I hadn't had the opportunity to confirm it on our short visit to Kirkwall, but I admit I was curious.

Not that I can pick up and leave at a moment's notice. I have to consider Jaden. And if that Hawke woman isn't what she appears to be, and if Cullen was right about her and Anders being a danger to the city, Kirkwall might not be a safe place for him at this time.

Since our return from Kirkwall I practiced daily in the manor's armory, honing my skills to their former proficiency. It gave me a sense of satisfaction to recapture my old speed and technique, but beyond that activity, I had nothing to do with my time. Tired of looking at the walls in the manor, I took a daily stroll around the market. Jaden was at the palace taking his lessons with the other boys. The sense of isolation was hard to deal with, but keeping it in was better than inflicting my unhappiness on my child.

One day, walking aimlessly through the city, I spied a small, two-person carriage pulling up in front of the Kendalls estate. The first person to exit it had a familiar face. At first I didn't recall who she was. She was about fifty years, dark hair shot through with streaks of white, elegantly dressed. Then it hit me. She was Adele Kendalls, Teagan's former mistress.

"Do come on, Zevran darling. My guests have arrived ahead of me and it's rude to keep them waiting," she said with an undertone of imperiousness.

Zevran? It can't be…

It was. He stepped out of the carriage, dressed impeccably and looking quite handsome in his nobleman's attire. He caught sight of me and communicated with a glance from his golden eyes. Don't let on that you know me.

He answered her, "I'm right behind you, dearest. But you know how these parties bore me. I'll meet your friends and rub elbows, but in return, you must let me escape the pomposity in a couple of hours. I'm more comfortable mingling with the commoners at the Gnawed Noble."

Zev's message to me was clear: Meet me at the Gnawed Noble in two hours.

Adele made a face. "Ugh! What a horrid dump! But very well, if you must," she relented, latching on to his arm to lead him to the manor. "Your choice of friends is appalling." Her tone took on a teasing quality, "Fortunately, you have other traits…" Her voice trailed off as they entered the manor. I didn't care to hear more. I'd heard enough about his "traits", thank you.

Zev was right on time. He joined me at my table, and in a gesture of compassion unlike him, he took both of my hands in his and extended his sympathy for the loss of my husband. "A dragon," he mused. "There was a large nest or two of dragon eggs in the ruined temple near Haven, yes? Maybe one should look into it and see if any remain. And smash them before they hatch."

"I've considered it. Going alone isn't wise, but I can't ask Aiden to leave his family and risk his life for it, nor can I call upon the wardens in Amaranthine."

"A favor for a favor, if you will?"

"A question first," I countered. "Have you been tailing me? How did you know so much about me and where to find me?"

"Well, about 'tailing' you as you say, the answer is yes and no. I have been keeping an eye on you from a distance, through my associates. Not for any reason other than to learn of your well-being and to assure myself that you were safe and staying out of trouble. I haven't forgotten how you not only spared my life, but honored your vow, letting me go free when my debt was paid. But I did not expect to see you in the market this evening. That, like meeting you in the first place, was pure luck."

"You do have a lucky streak," I agreed. "About your favor, then… I'm listening," I said.

He had cleaned house when he took over the Crows, but one assassin remained at large. It was a man named Ignacio, and he was one of the most experienced, influential members of the old order. Zev was tracking a rumor that Ignacio planned to set up shop in Denerim, running his own operation from the market district under the cover of being an ordinary merchant.

I was interested and ready for some excitement. "What do you want me to do?"

"When he comes, he'll want to meet you. You escaped the Crows and he has evaded me for years. He is a slippery eel and he knows my face, so I cannot approach him openly. You, on the other hand—your name is well known, as is your reputation for being a ruthless, efficient fighter. He will want to recruit you."

"You want me to become an assassin? Don't think for a minute I'm going to sleep with any of my marks. It's not going to happen. Ever."

He smiled at my protests, recalling the times he'd tried, unsuccessfully, to bed me. "Ignacio rarely deals with political killings, and even so, sleeping with a mark is a personal choice. I choose to take pleasure before and during the kill. You, as I recall, prefer a straight battle. So no worries, my friend. Make a clean kill and you will gain his trust."

"And in return for this favor and these jobs, what will I get?"

"I will go with you to the dragon's nest. We will clear out all the hatchlings and smash the eggs. I hope we do not run into any drakes, but my new poison ought to paralyze them if not kill them instantly. What do you say? Do we have a bargain?"

I thought it over. If I took him up on his offer, I'd have to operate under cover—not only from my targets, obviously, but more so from Alistair and Jaden. They couldn't know I was killing for hire. Whatever the cost, I had to destroy as many dragonlings and dragon eggs as possible. If there were to be a dragon war, I'd be helping my son. "I'll do it," I agreed. "Tell me what he looks like and how to approach him."

"He's an ugly man with a receding hairline and the face of a horse," Zev answered.

"Should be easy enough to pick out of a crowd," I quipped. "Ugly, receding hairline, horse face. You just described half the men in Ferelden."

"He'll have a pronounced Antivan accent," he added. "And he'll have a partner. Likely Antivan as well, but he could be of any nationality. Ignacio will have recruited a lackey to act as a business manager while he takes contracts."

"I'll start looking for him tomorrow," I said. "Without it looking like I'm looking for him."

"Thank you, dear friend. I can always count on you," he said, in one of his rare sappy moments. It didn't last long. "Now I must get back to the party before Adele send out her servants to track me down. She is a possessive one. If I did not need her for cover, and if it were not for her talents in the bedroom—"

"Stop!" I said, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear another word about her or her 'talents'."

"Oh, of course, my apologies. She mentioned your husband was a former lover of hers, and the way she speaks of him almost makes me doubt my own prowess. They did not carry on during your marriage, I trust? Or if they were discreet…"

"No. My husband was completely loyal and faithful to me," I said icily.

"So say they all," he sighed, then rose to go. "Once Ignacio shows, I will be watching to make sure the contracts are not too involved for a single assassin. If you need help, I will be there."

He took his leave. I sat a while longer, ordered another ale, and downed it to ease the sting of Zev's implication that Teagan had been unfaithful; and worse, his crude reference to Adele's reminiscing about their affair. I didn't believe for a second that Teagan had been untrue, but hearing my late husband spoken of with disrespect angered me. And truthfully, it provoked my jealousy. I didn't want to know Adele's opinion of Teagan's lovemaking. I didn't want to think of him loving her the way he loved me. The more I tried not to think on it, the more I thought on it.

Another ale or three later, I reflected on Isolde and her strange clinginess. She'd acted as if she were married to one brother and carrying on with the other. It wasn't something I would put past her, but Teagan was an honorable man. He wouldn't sleep with his own brother's wife, of all people. The rumors that Connor looked more like him than Eamon were idle blather. Connor as a boy had chestnut hair, a color similar to Teagan's, but as a young man, Connor didn't look like a Guerrin in any respect. Still… it was possible…

"Sod it all," I muttered, rising unsteadily to my feet. I'd had enough of the noisy tavern and more than enough of my thoughts. I could escape the tavern. The thoughts went with me, and as I walked around the empty marketplace to clear my head, the thoughts turned into hurtful visual images. Teagan with Adele, enjoying her "talents" more than my inexperienced fumblings. Teagan with Isolde, hiding their lust from Eamon who trusted them both implicitly. Eamon had been wrong about Isolde. Was his faith in Teagan misplaced as well? Was mine?

Stop it! Teagan and Adele were through before he and I became involved, and it was his choice. He didn't sleep with Isolde and he surely isn't Connor's father. Do Jaden and Connor resemble each other? Not in the least. Connor looked a bit like Isolde, but not like Eamon. Jaden has many of his father's characteristics, particularly his mouth and eyes—except for the startlingly bright blue color. Chances are Eamon isn't Connor's father, but Teagan definitely isn't either. It was probably some low-ranking guard or a villager. Or maybe Lloyd, the coarse, barrel-bellied tavern owner.

The last visual gave me a good chuckle, which I needed. Troubling thoughts banished for now, I rounded the corner behind Wade's old shop, passed down the street toward the chantry, and when I reached the narrow alley between Wade's and Goldanna's house, three bandits were waiting for a victim. Across the street, in the alley beside the chantry wall, were two more.

I've come full circle. I started my first day in Ferelden fending off five bandits. Here we go again.

One of them addressed me in a mocking tone, "That's a nice fat coin purse you're wearing, sweetheart. Looks awfully heavy for a little thing like you to be carrying about. What's a pretty girl like you doing out late at night? Don't you know the streets aren't safe?"

While he spoke, his men gathered around me. As there were no guards around, I suspected they'd already killed or incapacitated them. I responded to him with wide-eyed innocence, "My coin purse is lighter from all those ales I had at the Gnawed Noble. I can hardly walk. Maybe you kind gentlemen would like to escort me home and I'll pay you for your service?"

"Now tell me, lass, why should we work for the coin when we can just take it from you?"

I dropped the harmless damsel in distress act and slurred, "Well ser, I invite you to try."

One of his fellows said, "She's drunk. It'll be the easiest job we've pulled in months."

Another said, "She's got two longswords."

The leader said, "Look at her. She couldn't swing one, much less both. Nice set of blades. Let's relieve her of those and her coin. And if she puts up a fuss, she'll lose her life too."

I had a few seconds of doubt—I hadn't been in a real fight in years. How many ales did I have? Five? Six? More than that? I was drunk, and I wasn't accustomed to drinking so much. I hoped those ales didn't come back up in the midst of this action.

Doubt can be deadly. I can do this.

I pulled my blades and twirled them with the same dexterity I'd had in the past. "Who wants to be first to try their luck?"

The leader snorted. "Carnival tricks. Any idiot can do that."

"As an idiot, you certainly qualify," I said. "Let's see you try."

"Sod it," he snarled, refusing my challenge. "It's five on one, boys. Get her!"

They rushed me all at once. I employed the whirlwind technique, wounding each of them enough to give them pause, but not badly enough to make them give up. They cursed me and renewed their threats to kill me. Since my life was in danger, I had no recourse but to kill them. I ran the nearest one through the chest with one sword and decapitated him with the other. Instead of his companions running in terror, it enraged them to see their friend cut down, by a woman, no less. A very drunk woman.

"Four on one now," I taunted. "Shall I even the odds a bit more?"

This time my arrogance worked against me. One of the bandits caught me off guard and slashed at me, his dagger cutting through my armor and making a deep, painful gash in my side. He was the next to die. The pain infuriated me. I swung one blade in an oblique downward stroke, the sword biting through his neck and shoulder and all the major blood vessels. He staggered off with his hand over the wound, ineffectively trying to stem the gush of blood. He made it about four steps before he collapsed and bled out.

Still three left, and all of us were wounded. I could feel the hot blood pouring down my hip and leg. Not yet weakened, but it wouldn't be long before I needed healing. I had to finish this fight quickly before I received another injury. The best way to do it was to separate the fighters from each other, not allowing them to crowd me.

I selected the leader. His death might dishearten the other two. Undaunted by his friends' deaths, he charged at me with his axe raised. Before he reached me, he stopped, eyes huge, mouth agape, and he fell at my feet with a dagger in his back.

"How did she do that?" one of the survivors asked the other.

"With the help of a friend," Zev answered. I was never so glad to see him as I was then. He quickly dispatched the last bandits and came to help me. I was bleeding badly and faintness was setting in. He helped me to a crate and had me rest. "Sit here. I have to cover my tracks." He took one of my swords, removed his daggers from the three bandits he'd killed, and ran my blade through them to cover the dagger's path, making it look like I'd killed them all myself.

"Trying to save my reputation?" I joked weakly.

"Trying to save my cover," he answered. "These men were not bandits. They were Ignacio's men. They were here to test you to see if you were worth recruiting. He will definitely seek you out after this."

"Your skills have improved," I commented.

"And yours, my dear friend, are more efficient when you're sober. I recommend you forgo the ale when you meet with him, yes? When his men do not return to report, he will know you killed them. That is what he hoped you would do. Since he knows you are as lethal as ever, he will likely be here within a week or so."

His words stung (again), but he was right. I'd let emotion rule my thoughts and because of it, I drank too much—something wholly out of character for me—and put myself in danger. He helped apply an injury kit to my wound and gave me a healing potion that cleared my head of the alcohol. After he helped me to my feet, he said he had to go before he was missed. Apparently Adele kept her lovers on a short leash.

"We will not meet again until after you have been contacted by Ignacio," he said. "But I will be with you to help with the contracts if needed. And I will be around to keep you out of trouble."

"This really is a switch," I said. "I thought I was the one who kept you out of trouble."

"I learned from the best," he said, soothing my wounded ego with his flattery. "Now go home and let those potions do their work."

Each morning and afternoon I took a walk around the marketplace looking for a new face. Every evening, I changed into one of those ridiculously skin-tight noblewoman's dresses and joined Alistair and the boys for dinner. The king of Ferelden had settled into his role well, and he was a handsome sight in his royal attire. Not that he wasn't equally handsome in cheap chainmail or in his royal armor, mind you. When our little flock gathered for meals, Alistair was relaxed and fun, making his typically lame jokes that were often so bad they were funny. He reminded me of the young Grey Warden I'd met years ago at Ostagar, and the memory brought on a fresh rush of melancholy.

What would have become of our relationship if not for Morrigan's scheming, and if not for Teagan's timely intervention? Would he and I—

Wondering about it won't change a thing. What does it matter now?

"You look distraught, my dear," Alistair said, bringing me out of my reverie. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Duncan turned his wide, innocent eyes on me. "Are you still broken, Aunt Winter?"

"Broken?" I echoed, confused.

"I heard people say you're broken. Where are you broken? Can I see it?"

"Heartbroken," Jaden supplied. "They say she's heartbroken because my dad died."

Duncan opened his mouth to continue the topic but Alistair interrupted him. "Aunt Winter will be fine. We have to give her time and not ask a lot of nosy questions." He said it with a fatherly smile, but his tone implied there would be no more discussion of it.

They were right—I was still reeling from my loss—and they were wrong. Too much idle time allowed for too many pointless musings. Memories of Teagan filled my dreams, but Alistair's kindness and understanding helped ease my pain. He was a dear, compassionate soul, and our friendship deepened in recent months. His kindness extended to everyone he met. Small wonder he was the most popular, beloved ruler in Ferelden's history.

On the ninth day after the bandits or assassins attacked me, I saw a man who fit the description Zev gave me. Ugly, receding hairline, horse face and all. He wasn't ugly, to be honest. More like ordinary—one who wouldn't stand out in a crowd, which was what he wanted. Blending in was essential to killers and cutpurses.

Rather than approaching him right off, I waited a couple of days, got in enough practice until I was confident I could meet any challenge he threw at me, and then headed out to the market to meet the renegade Crow. He pretended to be a merchant and businessman, though he was vague about what "business" he was supposedly running. I didn't press him for details. After our chat, I browsed his merchandise (which was cheap junk compared to my weapons and armor), and bid him good day.

The following morning a messenger arrived at my door with a note from Ignacio. He wanted to meet me at the Gnawed Noble in a private suite. I went alone, but he had two henchmen with him just in case I arrived with the aim to attack him. Coward, I thought. He did indeed want to recruit me, and I agreed to his terms although the pay for kills was pitifully inadequate. I had no need of money, but I marveled that the price of a human life was so low.

The first couple of contracts were easy kills, in or near Denerim, and the targets were dangerous men who'd managed to elude the guards. It was apparent these jobs were tests, and I carried them out without a qualm. I didn't need Zev's help for these simple jobs, but he shadowed me to make sure everything went perfectly.

When my 'apprenticeship' was done and my loyalty proven, I received Ignacio's true assignment. It was a political contract that involved traveling to Orzammar to kill a foreign ambassador, currently staying in the royal palace with a company of bodyguards. My friend King Harrowmont would grant me access to his palace, but he wouldn't take too kindly to me killing one of his guests. Discretion and stealth were paramount if I were to avoid losing an ally.

"Orzammar? What possible business could you have in Orzammar?" Alistair didn't intend to sound as harsh as he did, but Winter's increasingly erratic behavior worried him, and fear wasn't something he handled well. It had been his hope that, with as much attention as he could give her, she would come to terms with her grief and return to a normal life. After she'd overcome her initial restlessness, everything seemed to be going well enough. Then suddenly she started taking those secretive trips and, again, returning with fresh blood on her armor. Normalcy seemed to be the furthest thing from her plans.

"It's… a personal errand," she said evasively. "I'll be gone for a couple of weeks. Is it such a bother to have Jaden here? If so, I can—"

"No, Winter, this has nothing to do with Jaden. Well, nothing other than the fact that he's eight years old and needs his mother, but she's too busy running mysterious 'personal errands' to pay him the attention he requires."

"You've not noticed he depends on me less and less, that he's intellectually equal to an adult and emotionally advanced as well? Are you forgetting his unique personality?"

He was quiet a moment before he replied, "Sometimes, yes, I forget he's not just an average little boy like Duncan. But regardless of his 'uniqueness' I feel he needs more of your time than you've been giving him. Forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds…" He trailed off, not feeling he was overstepping at all. Not when it came to the woman he loved and the boy he'd grown to care for as his own.

"I can't really speak of what I'm doing, but I need you to trust me. I'm tying up loose ends, nothing more. And I'm almost done. Please be patient with me a while longer. That's all I ask."

He groaned in frustration, knowing she would always have the upper hand over him. "I do trust you," he answered. "But I worry about you too. I'm afraid you're becoming reckless like you were when we first met. Maker forbid you get into trouble and I'm not there to help. I'd never forgive myself if I lost you again due to—"

Well, that was certainly smooth, Alistair. Tell the grieving widow your feelings like a selfish bastard, why don't you? Might as well finish your sentence. She's waiting for you to stick your other foot in your big mouth.

"…due to carelessness, thoughtlessness..." he finished quietly. "I'm sorry. What a stupid thing for me to say."

"Alistair," she said, "it wasn't stupid. Do you think I would be offended to learn you care about me? On the contrary; I'm flattered." They'd been sitting in his study; now she rose from her seat and leaned to him, kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, "for everything."

"Why does that sound so much like 'goodbye'?" he remarked dolefully.

"There will never be a 'goodbye' between us," she answered. "We've been through too much together and we'll always be bound by the taint."

"Not exactly the warm sentiment I was hoping for."

"Don't look so downcast. For what it's worth, you're precious to me," she said, surprising him with the word 'precious'. Before he could say something idiotic, she quickly added, "I have to go now. We'll speak more when I return."

He watched her retreating, her dark ponytail swinging and revealing the creamy skin of her neck, her stride purposeful, yet still feminine. The light, fitted drakeskin armor clung to her slender body, and as he gazed at her, he saw the raw recruit again… the one who captured his heart and wouldn't release it.