Ch. 5: A Happy Hour

Darrian watched as Lord Day-vach Cousland cleaned his knife on Vaughan's clothing before offering it back to him. "I believe this is yours."

With a grin, Darrian nodded as he accepted. "Thank you," he said before adding, "Lord Cousland." He took back his other knife which was still lodged in the corpse's leg.

Cousland nodded before he wiped off his own sword. The crowd murmured and watched, while Darrian happily noted the three remaining guards shifted uneasily. Can't wait to see what's coming to them.

His sword cleaned, Dáibhádh climbed his feet. Or tried to. His legs buckled and bent as he made to stand. He was off the ground, but he didn't know for how long before he fell. Exhaustion seemed a weak description compared to how empty he felt. The cuts he took in the duel had stopped bleeding but the throbbing pain remained and weakened him further.

Just as his legs were about to give out, Garahel hopped over to his side, discreetly giving him something to lean against and hold onto. Dáibhádh silently thanked his mabari companion as his left hand gripped Garahel's back to keep himself steady and upright. He hoped it wasn't obvious he was one step away from unconsciousness.

He turned to the Chantry Priest. "Mother…?"

"Boann, my lord," she answered, her pale face contrasting with her red robes.

She looks a little green. I wonder if this is the first time she's ever seen men kill each other, Dáibhádh thought. He continued as he pointed at Vaughan's corpse. "Although Steward Vaughan Kendalls has disgraced himself by subverting the rules of the trial, his life has been forfeited. Does the Chantry recognize my victory?"

"It does, my lord."

Cousland glanced at Duncan. The Grey Warden's mouth was a frown, but his eyes seemed encouraging. Or perhaps Dáibhádh was imagining that part. At the very least, he hoped Duncan understood Dáibhádh's plan, since it was forbidden for Grey Wardens to hold political stations. He addressed Mother Boann. "Henceforth, until either I expire or pass on my title, I am Dáibhádh Cousland, Steward of Highever, younger brother to Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever."

"May the Maker bless you, my lord," Boann answered before she bowed to the new Steward.

Behind her, Dáibhádh saw Kallian, staring right at him. His former servant wore her anxiety and worry openly as she looked at him, probably focused on his wounds. He flashed her a confident smile. Judging by her dismayed face, he wondered if he'd only shown her a pained grimace.

The Alienage's Elder, (Valendrio, wasn't it?) now standing in front of the crowd, shouted, "Hail to the new Steward!" before he bowed too. Behind him, the entire community followed, and, for the first time since his failure to stop Howe, Dáibhádh felt proud.

He waited until everyone rose before setting his sights on the three guards. He concentrated as he switched to his deeper voice, while sleep nipped at him. "For my first command, you three are to take these bodies away from here, to the Denerim's chantry. See that they are treated with every respect and courtesy as their rank deserves."

One of the guards hesitated before saying, "But, my lord, there are four bodies and only three of us."

Dáibhádh's glare was ice. "I gave you an order. Execute it before I remember whose swords were used to try to kill me."

Another guardsman gulped as he looked down at his empty scabbard. All three of their weapons were still in the hands of the nobles who now lay dead at their feet. "Yes, my lord!" The three of them immediately took to their new task with zeal.

Not that it's their fault that they were ordered to hand over their swords, but I don't know if they followed that order with glee or reluctance. His legs wobbled before he took a deep breath and straightened them. I need to rest. I feel like I could sleep a whole week. He turned to the Alienage Elder. "I apologize, on behalf of the late-Steward and for myself, for interrupting the ceremony."

The old elf shook his head before replying, "We only have gratitude for your treatment, Lord Cousland and owe you a debt."

Dáibhádh's eyes were blinking too often. Sleep was drawing closer and closer, whether he wanted to or not. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay to enjoy the festivities," He explained as he struggled to form an excuse, "I must…retire and… see to my new duties."

The Alienage Elder nodded before answering, "May the Maker watch over you, Lord Cousland."

Accepting the blessing with a nod, Dáibhádh carefully released his grip on Garahel before striding to the bridge connecting the Alienage to the rest of Denerim. Behind him, a few cheers broke out, but Dáibhádh didn't dare stop or glance backwards. Duncan and Garahel followed closely on either side of him. "I'll make sure the city has a Seneschal before we take our leave and that'll be the end of my title's responsibilities here," he whispered to Duncan.

"So long as you fulfill your father's oath to become a Grey Warden," Duncan replied. He paused as they reached the bridge, now out of sight of anyone else. "That was a good thing you did back there."

Dáibhádh wondered if it was a bad thing he was losing his focus. A growing part of him didn't care. "Thank you," he mumbled before his body finally gave out.

The moment Day-vach Cousland was out of sight, Valendrian turned to Mother Boann and said, "I think it's time we finished these weddings."

"Yes," Mother Boann replied, taking a deep breath, her face returning to its natural color. It helped that the bodies were gone too. "Everyone, please return to the wedding platform."

Darrian sauntered up to his bride, offering an arm. His good mood was pierced by the worried look on Nesiara's face. "What's wrong? You're safe now."

"I know, and I'm thankful for that," Nesiara answered. "But, does this happen often?"

Not anymore if I'm allowed to defend the Alienage. Wonder if I can get Lord Cousland to give me a title or something that allows that? "Not usually. Most of the time, it's drunk guards who walk in and think we owe them a good time. The nobles usually stay away since they have an image to keep." He glanced back in the direction of Cousland. "Or if they're the good sort."

Together, they climbed up the stairs. "Well, maybe it'll change now that Lord Cousland is the Steward," Nesiara declared.

Darrian thought about all the trouble Day-vach was already in and doubted he'd be around for long. He decided against telling her that. But he did add, "Don't worry. Even if that happens, I'll protect you."

Nesiara looked down at the knives on his belt. To Darrian's surprise, she didn't look very reassured. Maybe Dad was right about hiding the knives. She looked back up at him and smiled. "Sorry, I've never seen a duel that…bloody. That was a very brave thing you did, helping Lord Cousland like that."

Never before had Darrian ever thought about what birds felt like when they flew, but he bet it had to be something like the happiness soaring in his chest. Mother Boann decided alacrity was the important virtue, or perhaps she was ready to return to the chantry. She sped through the necessary vows and leading the shortest wedding Darrian had ever seen.

He wanted to hug her by the end of it.

Darrian did his best not to rush through his portion of the vows as he placed a wedding band on Nesiara's finger. Beside him, Soris, unable to afford a proper ring for the ceremony, pulled out a necklace with a single small gem on it. He placed it around the Mouse's neck as he repeated his lines, guided by the priest.

After repeating his final vow, Soris echoing him, he leaned forward and kissed his bride for the first time. The new sensation sent an electric jolt through him and he discovered how soft Nesiara's lips were. I could stay like this for the rest of the day.

For better or for worse, the kiss ended and the crowd let out a wild cheer as Valendrian presented them. "My brothers and sisters, I give you our newest additions: Nesiara Tabris and Valora, wife of Soris." The crowd cheered again before the band assembled on the platform. As soon as the kiss was completed, Mother Boann took her leave.

Oh great. Dancing. Darrian glared as the band played. The crowd broke apart as elves found dance partners. He took a glimpse at Nesiara. His bride was beaming and looking at him expectantly. Soris had already shown him up as he started dancing with the Mouse. Never that useful in a fight, but there are some things he's better than me at. After a long pause, he coughed. "I, uh, I can't dance."

Nesiara laughed and even that sounded sweet to him. "Oh, why didn't you say so? Come on, I'll teach you the favorite one at Highever."

Thus, he found himself following Nesiara's lead as she showed him first. In hindsight, it was a poor decision because Darrian found he couldn't stop himself from admiring her body as she twirled and moved about. "Alright, now you try."

"Wha-? Oh, um, uh, right. Here I go." For Darrian's first attempt, he thought it didn't go too badly. Even if he did stumble right into Shianni, who had already snuck in a couple more drinks, and who then staggered backwards right off the stage. While Nesiara stifled her giggling, Darrian peered guiltily over the edge. "Shianni?"

His concern seemed pointless when he saw her laughing in the dirt. "Whoops! I guess that's it for my dress, huh?" She let out before going into another laughing fit.

"I guess I don't have to worry about her for the rest of the day," Darrian sighed.

Shianni's fun was interrupted when Kallian came over. She wore a smile, but Darrian saw how flimsy it was. "Come on, let's get you out of the dirt before you tear your dress."

"Join me, cousin! The sky is so blue and the clouds look like funny shapes." Shianni jerked a finger at one. "Like that one! It looks like a mug. I think I should get another drink."

Darrian rolled his eyes before returning to Nesiara. The dance lessons started again, but no matter how slowly she moved or how many times she asked him if he was paying attention, Darrian could not focus.

The band switched to another song after another failed attempt. Soris stepped up to Nesiara and held out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Darrian opened his mouth to protest, but Nesiara answered first. "Of course, Soris. I'd like to have a dance with my good friend." She turned to Darrian with a smile. "You don't mind, right?"

Before he could stop the words, Darrian said, "Of course not. I need a break anyway."

Nesiara gave him a bright smile before letting Soris take the lead. The moment her back was turned, Darrian glowered at his cousin.

"I'm glad you're so taken with her."

Darrian flinched before he rounded towards the speaker. Cyrion smiled at him, while holding a mug. He raised an eyebrow. "I think that's the first time I've surprised you since you… were a boy."

You mean ever since mother started training me. Darrian kept the thought from leaving through his mouth and let the matter drop. "You wanted to speak with me?"

Cyrion gestured behind him. Sitting in one corner of the stage, a small mountain of presents was gaining height as various attendees stopped by to leave their own present. "I wanted to tell you not to worry about your presents. Nelaros and I will safe keep them until you come for them tomorrow."

He pointed away from the platform. Next to the Vhenadahl (on the opposite side of the place where the duel was fought), a long table sat filled with food, desserts, and plenty to drink. Darrian's stomach grumbled and reminded him of his other needs he was ignoring. "Make sure you two get something eat before you leave and consummate your marriage. I will be staying with Nelaros tonight, so you'll have the home to yourself." Cyrion paused. "I am giving you my bed to keep. It has too much space for a widower and I'm sure you'll put it to better use."

A small blush appeared on Darrian's face, but he refused to acknowledge it. "Fine, anything else?"

Cyrion watched as Nesiara as she finished the dance with Soris. "Take good care of her, son. Never take her existence for granted."

Darrian replied solemnly, "I will, father."

Cyrion gripped his son's shoulder, gave it a shake, before he withdrew into the crowd. Darrian studied his father, not remembering when he had become so old. He broke off as Nesiara walked up to him. After so much dancing, her skin glistened with a small layer of sweat. The view caused excitement of a different kind to rise within Darrian.

"Want to try dancing again?" She breathlessly invited.

Darrian pointed toward the table. "I think we should get something to eat. And to drink. Like ale."

Another bubbling laugh flowed out of Nesiara as she took his hand. "Lead the way then. To the ale."

And to something better after that.