Immediately after Maebh left the alcove she discovered a flaw in her plan. In the brief moments she had taken to speak with her father, the Landsmeet Chamber had filled with revelers, with still more pouring in as each moment passed. Their voices, the announcements made at each entrance, the fire dancers, the musicians, the brightly colored clothing and swirling skirts, the clouds of perfume and the rising temperature of the room all began to make her feel light-headed.
It was only one year ago, she reminded herself, that in this same chamber she had faced a different crowd, sword in hand, determined to commit patricide before the end of the day.
Compared to that, this was nothing. She could survive one single Maker-forsaken party.
She squared her shoulders and waded into the crowd. "Maebh, my child," Irving rasped as she passed him, Isolde, and Cullen. "You look lovely. What a striking shade of red you're wearing."
"Thank you, First Enchanter," she replied, subconsciously slipping into the subservient demeanor of an apprentice as she turned to him.
Irving laughed a dry laugh and patted her arm. "Old habits die hard, eh?" He turned to Isolde. "You see, no matter how far they roam or what they accomplish after becoming mages, there is still that sense of community. Of belonging."
Maebh clutched her goblet a little tighter and forced an obedient smile. "Yes, of course."
Isolde nodded, looking as miserable as Maebh felt. "I just worry about my son, First Enchanter. He is such a sensitive boy. What if the other children do not like him? What if they are jealous of his upbringing?"
"If I may be so bold," Maebh turned to Irving, "I have been an apprentice a bit more recently than you have." When he nodded, she turned back to Isolde. "When I was young, there was very little jealousy among the apprentices based upon upbringing. Everyone there had to leave their families, whether that included titles or simply just their names. And in that, everybody became equal."
"That was beautifully put, my child," Irving smiled.
Cullen shifted his weight and frowned. "But they're not all friends," he pointed out.
"Oh, no," Maebh agreed, "not at all. But rivalries are based more on ability and personality than what sort of bed you slept in before you left for the Tower. And from what I saw of Connor, he is a good-natured child who should be able to make friends despite his above-average arcane abilities."
Isolde sighed, looking somewhat less tense. Maebh's heart went out to her. Did her own mother have these same worries? Did her mother even know that she had lived? She had never been brave enough to ask Loghain what he had told her of her fate.
"But the boy is dangerous!" Cullen burst out. "His abilities are not under his control."
"Cullen," Irving laughed with forced joviality. "Of course his abilities aren't controlled! That's why he's still an apprentice."
Isolde's eyes widened in fear. "Dangerous? Because of the dem- I mean, because of what happened when Eamon was ill?"
Cullen whirled on her. "Demon? Because of the demon? What demon? Irving, did you know of this? " He began to get even more agitated. "Is the boy an abomination?"
"No, of course not," Maebh said firmly.
Just then Greagoir appeared and took Cullen by the arm. "My boy," he said with the same forced joviality as Irving. "Perhaps it's time we go get some fresh air?" With that, he quickly led the agitated Templar away.
The cacophony of the crowd did little to disguise the uncomfortable silence. "First Ench- Irving," Maebh said. "Perhaps it would be possible for Isolde and Connor to exchange correspondence? Maybe it is something that could be started with all the new apprentices as you rebuild the Tower."
Isolde's expression grew cautiously hopeful. "That would do much to ease my mind, yes."
Irving shot Maebh a subtle look of disapproval, though no one else would have recognized his expression. "That would be... most difficult. In order for the community Maebh so eloquently spoke of earlier to flourish, we feel it best to sever all ties to that which the apprentice was made to give up. That being said, Conner's situation is of course unique. I shall discuss the idea with the Knight-Commander,."
Maebh smiled a genuine smile. "Be sure to say it was my idea, then he might actually listen." She winked at Isolde and excused herself.
Taking a moment to try to get her bearings, she spied Eamon on the far side of the chamber, speaking with a representative of the court of the Anderfels. She tried to cross the middle of the room, but was yanked back as the fire dancers spun into her path.
"Oh, thank you. That would have been most awkward," she said, turning to her rescuer.
Teyrn Cousland laughed genially. "Well, it wouldn't do to let the Hero of Ferelden burn to death at a party in held her honor, now would it?"
Maebh smiled back, put instantly at ease by the young Teyrn's good-nature. "Oh, I don't know. It would make for quite a moving tale. Perhaps a ballad?"
He tilted his head. "Now that you mention it, I do believe Teagan was mentioning something about a song they sing about you back in Redcliffe..."
"Oh Maker, no," Maebh threw up her hands. "Please, I beg you. I endured a performance of that song once. Never again!"
He laughed again. "Your wish is my command, Warden. May I introduce you to my sister, Elissa?" And he gestured toward a thin, pale young woman standing slightly behind him.
"Please, both of you, call me Maebh," she said, reaching out a hand to grasp Elissa's. The Lady Cousland simply looked irritated and glanced away, which made Maebh feel so awkward she ended up clasping her own hand at an awkward angle in front of her and smiling foolishly. "At... at any rate I just want to thank you two for coming. It is very helpful to see such a prominent family, who have suffered so greatly, lend an example to the rest of the nation in reconciliation." She cleared her throat and tried to subtly glance around, looking for Eamon.
Elissa's lips pressed together in a thin, white line. "You're too kind. If you'll excuse me." She turned sharply and made her way towards Leonas and Habren Bryland. It was only then that Maebh realized that one of the Lady's impressively draped sleeves didn't lie quite right, as if there was nothing beneath it.
"Oh Maker," she gasped, turning to Fergus. "Could you... Oh I feel just awful, I had no idea." She wrung her hands and cursed her ineptitude.
Fergus patted her shoulder. "It's quite alright. Not many know how she lost her arm in the raid on our family's castle. You'll have to forgive her, it wasn't the most auspicious introduction to society." He glanced back at his kinsmen. "I hate to cut our conversation short, but I must see to my sister. Perhaps we should continue this another time?"
"Yes, yes of course," Maebh replied, trying to not get too distracted by the introduction of a dancing bear on the north side of the room.
Fergus took one of her hands and bowed simply, gently kissing the tips of her fingers. "Until we meet again, my lady." Before she could respond he slipped away into the crowd.
For a moment, she simply stopped breathing. Gasping a whole lungful all at once, she clenched and then released her fists. "Keep it together, Maebh," she muttered under her breath.
Over the heads of crowd that had gathered to watch the dancing bear, she thought she spied Eamon heading out onto one of the balconies. She started pushing towards that end of the room.
"Commander!" bellowed an extremely unwelcome voice. "Please, I would speak with you." King Bhelen grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her over to where he was speaking with Alistair and Anora. "I'm glad to have you all together," he said, slurring slightly and looking none-too-steady on his feet. "I just wanted to apologize."
"Really, Your Highness, there's no need," Alistair said, looking pained.
"No!" Bhelen insisted, having a hand in Alistair's face. "I was out of line. End of story. You know, there aren't any Topsiders I admire more than you Wardens. And, you," he said, turning awkwardly toward Maebh, "I owe everything to you."
"It's fine, Bhelen, really." Maebh tried to keep her composure as the diminutive monarch wrapped a surprisingly well-muscled arm around her waist and leaned his head against her side. "I know not everybody here understands you the way I do. But I understand what you meant, and that you meant it sincerely. I'm not angry with you."
She felt everybody's eyes on her, but she didn't care. Though Bhelen was an ass, he had been manipulated into making a fool of himself in front of a great many people he had desperately wanted to impress, and her heart went out to him.
Bhelen shook his head. "You know, you might not have a title, my girl, but you're every bit as much of a queen as your sister is. Maybe you'll get tired of all this sky sometime we can make it official, eh?" The way he waggled his eyebrows and leered at her, she couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"If I ever do, you'll know right away!" she promised, bending and kissing the top of his head.
Greatly cheered, he smacked her on the bottom and then swaggered off in the direction of the bear.
"Well," Anora said, sounding impressed. "That was deftly done."
Maebh rolled her eyes. "Yes, as I believe we've talked about before, I was raised by the Circle of Magi, not wolves." She grinned at Alistair. "Or flying dogs from the Anderfels."
Alistair snickered and Anora narrowed her eyes at the both of them. "Bhelen does bring up a good point," Anora continued. "You should get married. Perhaps to someone less likely to drown in a keg of ale, but really, it's something we should begin to prepare for."
"What?" Maebh and Alistair said together, sounding eerily alike in tone. The concept made her feel as if her head had suddenly detached from her body.
Anora sighed. "Maybe, you're twenty-seven years old. You're related to the royal family, you are extremely influential, and all would benefit from you making a good match."
"No I don't," she said, feeling panicky. It reminded her of the way she often felt back in the Tower, which only make her panic worse. "I don't need to do anything."
"She's right, though." Maebh felt her stomach tie in even tighter knots. Alistair agreeing with his wife? When had the world turn on end? "It's probably best for everybody. What about Teagan? Or that Cousland fellow? He seems likeable enough." And Anora nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable thing to say and not utterly mad beyond all reckoning.
"No, she's not. She isn't right. Have you found a way to magic my mage-ness out of me? Never mind that I don't want to marry Teagan or Fergus or anybody and there's nothing you can do to make me!" She began to slowly back away from them as she spoke.
"Maebh, my darling," Teagan purred as he slid his horrible hand around her elbow. "My, my. Did my ears deceive me, or were you just talking about me? Good things, I hope."
"Don't touch me!" she flared, yanking her arm out of his grasp and stumbling away. She pushed past Cauthrien, Alfstanna, and another woman she didn't recognize, dodged Perth's attempt to pull her into a dance, shrugged away Leliana and Ghislaine's giggling attempts to drag her into a some game with Renaud, shied away from the Empress and the Revered Mother and forced her way past the rest of the crush of people she didn't recognize and never wanted to meet until she finally reached the balcony that Eamon had escaped to and threw open the door.
"Chancellor," she said, trying to control her anger as best as she could.
"Commander," he said coldly, turning to face her. "Enjoying your party?"
She grit her teeth and slammed the heavy oaken door behind her, isolating the two of them on the cold balcony. Her skirts swirled in the gusting wind. "I know what you're up to, Guerrin."
Eamon took a long drink from his wine and set down the goblet. "Do you, now. And what would that be?"
"Do not presume to play dumb with me, Eamon. After what I've done for you and your lands and your wife and child you at least owe me the courtesy of being honest." Her will growled within her, an angry creature tearing at her guts. She tamped it down as best she could.
"Honesty?" Eamon scoffed. "It is a bright day in the Black City indeed, to hear a Mac Tir lecture me about honesty. Tell me, Commander Amell," he sneered, "because I've always wondered. How much of your benevolence is actually based on this deep-buried philanthropism everybody assumes that you must have, and how much of it is born of an obsessive need to ensure that every Fereldan citizen is willing to pay up when you come calling?"
"I want what's best for this country," she shouted, "which is certainly more than I can say for you!"
"So do I!" he declared emphatically. "Which is why I'm trying to prevent another civil war."
She reared back, stunned. "So your proposal to head off a civil war in two decades is to ensure an international one now? Are your wits really that addled?"
Eamon shook his head, disgusted. "Your family is a poison on this land, holding us back. But thankfully you do not wield the power you once did. And soon even that hold will be broken."
His disparagement struck true, and she felt his words as a physical pain in her chest. "My father will never stand for-"
"It does not matter what he thinks now, any more than what the scullery maid thinks. He has no title, no lands and no banners to call."
"M-my sister-"
"Is nothing if she cannot produce an heir!" He exploded, slamming his hand on the railing. "A barren queen is worse than useless."
"If you think you can just sweep me aside as well-"
He glared at her. "Don't let this fancy party fool you, Warden. You are not only imminently replaceable, Ferelden managed to get along without your kind for over four hundred years and something tells me we'd be able to do it again easily." His lip curled. "You. It was a black day indeed when Maric met your father. You people give with one hand and grasp with the other and we are stuck in the muck and the mire while the rest of Thedas continues to march on, leaving us behind. I am through bowing to the demands of the common-born."
Maebh took several deep breaths, wrestling with her nearly uncontrollable urge to throw Eamon off the balcony in a sudden blast of fire. "How did Maric meet my father, Eamon," she said, voice low and quiet.
"Don't patronize me," he looked down his nose at her.
"He met my father when he was lost in the woods. If it were not for my father, your precious Theirin line would have died of exposure or been eaten by wolves. And where were your nobles then? They had abandoned him to his fate because they were too busy licking the boots of their overlords." She felt her father's words tumbling out of her mouth, but she didn't care, because he was right and Eamon was a fool.
"That would have been enough," Eamon growled. "Yet the lot of you persisted."
Maebh looked up at him. "Who led the charge at River Dane and threw the Orlesians out, and later who rescued Maric from the Circle Tower, Eamon? Was it you? Teyrn Cousland? Arl Bryland? Any of the other gaggle of grasping hands that swarm like flies whenever favors are being handed out?"
Eamon turned away, done with her. "You ask foolish questions that you already know the answers to. I assure you, I am very well acquainted with the Legend of Loghain, particularly the part where he abandons the king to his death."
Maebh clenched her fists. "Do not speak to me of Ostagar." Cailan's body on the dead ground. She couldn't bear to even think of it. "Who gathered the armies to fight the Blight, Eamon? Was it you? Your brother? Perhaps it was Alistair manipulating me by putting me in charge?"
"There would have been no need to do any of that if your father had not turned traitor!" Eamon exclaimed, baffled.
"I'm not finished yet!" she cried, fingers sparking with stray electrical bolts she could not control. "When the Horde arrived at Denerim who led the troops into battle? In case you forgot the fact that Alistair was cowering somewhere, safe, it was Anora who led them. And who was it to battle the very Archdemon itself? Was it any member of your so very precious nobility? No! It was me and my father!" She was shaking with rage and it pleased her to see Eamon quail slightly as the power pulsed from her body and her gown flapped in the wind like a blood-soaked flag. "You dare look down upon my family as common-born? Ferelden would not exist without us!"
"Be that as it may," Eamon had backed away but clung stubbornly to his original point. "The monarchy requires an heir."
Maebh advanced until she was nose-to-nose with the man. "Find another way," she growled low. "There are any number of eligible banns and their daughters. Get rid of the Empress."
"Are you threatening me?" he asked, disbelieving.
"I am telling you this right now: I have the letters that you and she sent Cailan. And Andraste as my witness, if you go forward with this? I will make them public so fast you will be strung up for the traitor you are before you finish hearing the charges." She saw the flicker of fear in his eyes and knew she had won.
"How did-" he started but they were interrupted by an odd crashing sound from the Landsmeet Chamber. "What was that?"
Maebh turned to the door as it burst open and screaming guests began to tumble out onto the balcony. "What happened?" she tried to shout over the din. "What's going on?"
A vaguely-familiar looking woman was shoved into her by the crowd. "Thank the Maker, here you are!" she gasped, clutching her arm. "It's the queen! Something's happened but I couldn't get to her!"
Maebh grabbed the woman's arm with one hand and began to shove her way through the panicked crowd with the other. "Do you have a weapon?" she shouted.
"The queen said-" the woman protested.
"Where is it?" Maebh shouldered a troop of acrobats away, world snapping into focus as the rest of the guests lost themselves in terror and confusion.
She reached into her bodice and pulled out a long, thin dagger.
"Good," Maebh nodded, "hold on to that."
There was an odd smoke in the air and the heat and the screams of the panicked crowd made it difficult to see what was happening. Maebh fought to stay upright as she was knocked and buffeted by people trying to find an exit, the other woman ever at her side, holding her up with a surprising strength. "There!" the woman said, pointing to the center of the Chamber.
It was as if everything else blurred, became indistinct. Maebh's entire world narrowed on the site of her sister lying in a pool of blood. "They never intended to go for me!" she gasped. "It was Nora the whole time!" She broke into a run, half her ridiculous skirt ripping off as the panicked masses tore past her.
Finally she reached Anora's side. "Maker's breath! Who did this?" Blood, horrible bright red blood gushed from a wound in her side.
"The king of Antiva," Anora struggled to say, lips wretchedly pale as she pressed a hand to the wound. "How did they know?" she gasped, voice breaking and eyes filling with tears. "Maybe, help me. I can't... How did they know, I didn't tell anybody, I didn't even tell Alistair yet, I... How did they know?" Her eyes became glassy as she babbled.
Maebh ripped a length of fabric off her skirt. "Stop it, Nora, damn you. Look at me!" She wadded up the silk and pressed it to her side, trying to figure out where to focus her energy first.
Anora clutched Maebh's arm and flinched. "Look out! Oh Maker save us!"
Maebh did not turn to look, but cast a shield over the two of them. "We're safe in here," she told her with a grunt, feeling it in the marrow of her bones as some weapon or other hit the barrier. "As long as I can keep it up. Where's Alistair? Where's Father?"
Anora struggled for focus as Maebh tried to muster the concentration to at least staunch the bleeding. The wound was deep, but if she remembered her anatomy correctly, it did not seem to be near any vital organs. "The King of Antiva tried to run, they went after him and then... Andraste save me they must have known about the baby but I didn't tell anybody how did they know?" Her tears began to fall in earnest and Maebh felt an icy chill down her spine that she had never before felt in battle.
"Look at me, Nora," Maebh yanked Anora's face toward her. "You have to keep it together. Where is the Antivan queen? And her retinue?"
"I don't know I don't know anything I thought they were after you," she began to babble again. "How could I have been so stupid?"
Maebh looked around quickly. The assassins had used some kind of smoke weapon that made everything an indistinct blur of bodies on the other side of the barrier. But she needed Ghislaine to help her. Anora's blood was soaking through the first wad of silk so Maebh ripped another length of material off her skirt. "Maker's breath, Maybe, do you know how much I paid for that?" Anora muttered as Maebh pressed it to her wound.
"Shut up!" she snapped. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and reached out with her mind. Somehow, through all the fog and confusion and the ongoing fight and the last remnants of wine swimming in her head, she could still sense the other Wardens. Father and Alistair had ended up on the grand staircase, and she struggled to find the others.
She realized she had cast her mind too far, as Renaud was just outside the barrier. But she couldn't tell if it was safe. Opening her eyes, she frantically searched for him, and after several panicked moments a shadowy figure waved at her from the other side. Letting go of Anora, she crawled over to the edge. "Ghislaine!" she shouted, hoping he could hear her through the barrier. "I need Ghislaine!"
The figure nodded as if he understood and darted off. Maebh crawled back to Anora. "I need you to focus on me, damn you!" She pressed the silk against her wound, noticing with some displeasure that the color of the fabric made it impossible to tell if the bleeding was slowing at all.
There was a tremor in her mind, and she realized that Ghislaine had made it to her. Maebh took another deep breath and released the barrier, slamming it up again as soon as the other mage darted inside. "I need you to heal her," Maebh flinched as a crossbow bolt struck the barrier. It felt as if she were being punched from the inside of her chest. "Or at least slow the bleeding."
"Save the baby," Anora sighed, head drooping.
Ghislaine's eyes flew wide for a split second before she got to work. "Your Highness, you must stay awake," she said gently as Anora's eyes began to close.
"Nora!" Maebh cried, biting her lip as somebody landed on top of the barrier. "Nora, listen to me. We need to discuss something. It's very important."
"Who are you going to marry?" Anora murmured. "You should be grateful I'm letting you choose..."
"No, that's a stupid conversation," Maebh knew if they went down that road she would never be able to maintain her concentration. She cast about for a topic they could discuss. "What's your favorite color?"
"I... I don't know..." Anora was so pale Maebh could see the blue veins in her neck. "That's a stupid question. What is the average airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
"What? That's... that's not a conversation starter, Nora!" Maebh sputtered. "That's just useless trivia!"
"Who was the better lover?" Ghislaine asked sharply.
Anora's eyes regained some of her focus. "Out of what pool?"
Ghislaine's smile was infectious. "Out of the kings. You both had them. Which was better?"
"Cailan," Maebh said, without a second thought.
"Maric," Anora said, just as quickly. "I mean- I mean Alistair."
"What?" And the barrier shimmered around them, Maebh regained focus and reinforced it just as a blade came slicing in. "Ah!" she hissed, as it felt as though the dagger was stuck inside her. "What did you say?"
"I said Alistair," Anora tried to cover, though a faint flush had appeared on her cheeks. "You must have taught him well. He came to me quite prepared."
"No you didn't, that's not what you said at first." The dagger was ripped out of the barrier and somehow that made the pain even worse. "You said Maric," she grit out between teeth clenched in pain.
"He came to me, before I was wed," she said, dreamily, though her eyes had lost that horrible glassiness. "Or maybe I went to him, I don't remember. It was just before he left... Just as well."
"I don't even know what to say right now," Maebh shook her head. "He was Father's best friend!"
Anora laughed weakly and Maebh's heart lifted. "Oh, come off it. Like you wouldn't have if you had the chance."
"That's hardly relevant," Maebh pouted. "Because you're the one who did."
"I just wanted something I chose for myself," she said wistfully. "That's why I don't understand you sometimes. You could have any man you wanted. Why must you keep claiming what's mine?"
"I don't really get to chose much for myself, either," Maebh responded, feeling ashamed of herself.
"No, I suppose you don't," Anora conceded, reaching out to grasp her hand. Maebh grabbed hold and squeezed it tightly, hands slick with her blood. She felt a tap on the barrier and looked up.
A crowd of ghostly figures surrounded the barrier. "Prepare yourself, Ghislaine," Maebh warned.
"For what, Commander?" she asked, trying to wipe the blood from her hands.
"Well, either it's safe to come out, or we're going to have to fight all of them alone." She said, cursing herself for not bringing a vial of lyrium potion.
Ghislaine nodded grimly. "I am ready."
Slowly, Maebh released the barrier, shielding Anora's body with her own. A crowd of guards rushed in, ripping Anora from her and carrying her off, followed by Alistair and a gaggle of servants and Irving. "She's hurt!" Maebh protested lamely. "Don't reopen the wound!"
And then she found herself wrapped in a bear hug, and felt tears in her hair.
"Thank the Maker," Loghain said huskily, clutching her to him so tightly she was sure she would smother, before releasing her and quickly heading off after the mob that had ushered Anora away.
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Many thanks to my beta, LotherinRose, and a very happy birthday and many happy returns to my co-mod and partner in mischief, Vehlr!