Chapter 15: Home

Denerim: Teyrn of Highever's Estate

The stranger stood in the shadows of the courtyard, hood drawn up. He'd heard of the commotion at the docks and rushed out, only to see the last of the stragglers make his way to the Highever estate, carrying a limp body. He'd followed the trail of blood droplets, dark against the cobblestones and then on the dirt paths and alleys, and now he stood in the courtyard watching the man hover over the dead body.

He stepped out from behind overgrown rose bushes and the rustle made the other man look up. A massive greatsword lay across the granite bench, but he made no move to pick it up. Even when the stranger removed his blade from its sheath and the metallic ring echoed across the courtyard, the man made no move to defend himself.

The stranger sighed. "I thought you were the King of Ferelden. You're just going to sit there and welcome death?"

Cailan looked up into the shadows, his eyes trying to make out the lines of the strange man, but his dark cloak blurred him until he was little more than a shadow himself. "I've had a hard day," he said listlessly.

"And if I were anyone else I would have made it harder." He stepped out and removed his hood. "I heard about the docks. Loghain's guards are scouring all of Denerim looking for you," Teagan said. "Fergus has had quite the time turning them all away."

Not even the sight of his favorite uncle could rouse Cailan from his misery. "I'm surprised Fergus is still on my side."

"Fergus serves the crown as loyally as every other Cousland before him," Teagan said. "What he may feel about you personally, as a friend, is irrelevant in this matter." He looked at the limp body still cradled in Cailan's arms. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Her name was Aubrey," Cailan said softly, brushing her blood-encrusted hair off her face. "She'd come to Gwaren to find help for… for Anora. She found me instead and… then she took a crossbow bolt for me down at the docks."

Teagan heard the true anguish in Cailan's voice and though he felt pity for his nephew, he shook his head. "I'm truly sorry. But you really didn't learn anything from your father about elven mistresses?"

Cailan looked up, his face twisted into a mask of sadness and rage. "She wasn't my mistress, Teagan."

"Then what else would she be?"

Cailan closed his eyes and shifted the limp weight in his arms. What had she been to him? Lover, yes. Partner in crime, certainly. But she had also been the only person to truly listen to him, to let him rant or think aloud with no judgment or impunity. She'd smiled for him, laughed at his awful jokes, and served him loyally: not just in the palace, or the bed, or bath. But given her own life in service to the crown of Ferelden. And the only thanks he'd ever truly given her were small trinkets she then gave to help her small family survive. "She was a friend," he said. "Maybe one of the dearest I've ever had." He looked up at Teagan again. "Spare me your judgment, uncle; I've had enough of it from Fergus, and believe it or not, from myself."

Teagan nodded. "I've always avoided judging you, you know that. But now I come to let you know that Alistair and Fianna are in the city, staying at Eamon's estate. It may be safest for you to come there. Let Fergus keep diverting attention here until the Landsmeet…"

"There's to be a Landsmeet?"

"Yes. Eamon called it." He took in Cailan's surprised expression. "Yes, the myth of the Sacred Ashes wasn't so mythical after all. Your other uncle is alive and well, and looking to get back at Loghain same as the rest of us." His smile was grim. "If you come back with me we can begin planning."

Planning. Strategy. They had become Cailan's life since before Ostagar. He understood why he'd enjoyed that last week in Gwaren, and most of those long days on the ship with Aubrey: there was no planning. He could exist as he wanted with little thought for the future. He sighed. "I will go with you. But we must give her rites," he said. Teagan opened his mouth to protest, but Cailan was firm. "She sacrificed herself for the crown. For me. That can't go without recognition."

When Teagan shared Cailan's wish with Fergus, the Teyrn of Highever begrudgingly agreed. "But only because she served the crown with her life," Fergus told Cailan. "Not because of how you felt for her." That made Teagan raise an eyebrow, but Cailan only nodded his thanks.

Fergus remained by Cailan's side as the flames burned into the night. Next to him, Teagan reached over and squeezed his shoulder. The smoke billowed for hours and eventually the flames died to embers as the sun was rising for a sallow gray dawn. Cailan yawned, exhausted. Teagan looked over at him. "That beard does nothing for you."

In spite of his misery and exhaustion, Cailan laughed. "I suppose it will have to go."

"You're starting over again," Fergus said, off to the side. He handed Cailan a worn leather pouch. "You may wish to present some of her ashes to her family when this is over," he said. His voice wasn't warm by any means, but the gesture meant a lot to Cailan, and he nodded thanks that he could not voice over the new lump in his throat.

The rest of the ashes were interred beneath a rose bush that Fergus promised to have cultivated when spring came and the Blight ended. "You sound very confident that it will end," Cailan said.

Fergus actually smiled. "Fianna's in charge of it. For all her faults, she's stubborn. If she could manage to find the Sacred Ashes, she can see the Blight ended. And she's with your brother," he added. "Hard-headedness seems to run in your family."

Denerim: Market District

The Redcliffe estate was on the other side of the city, just off the market district. Teagan led Cailan through Denerim's seedier back alleys. "These places are usually crawling with thieves," Cailan hissed. "Where are they?"

"The Wardens have some… interesting friends," Teagan whispered back. "One is an Antivan assassin, and the general rabble is more afraid of him than they are all of Loghain's guards put together. He's keeping the streets clear until we get back."

"We must have been longer than they were expecting."

"Zevran's very effective." Teagan didn't make for the main entrance. "Too many city guards. While I can come and go as I please, if I were to bring you in they'd raise the alarm." Instead he slipped through a hidden passage in the side wall that opened when he pressed the Guerrin family signet against a hidden indentation. The Redcliffe grounds were in only slightly better shape than Highever's, but the brambles and climbing ivy vines has been trimmed away from the white marble statue of Queen Rowan that stood atop the still fountain in the middle. Cailan paused and gazed up at the serene face of his mother. He wondered what she would think if she saw what he'd become; what Loghain had become.

Cailan followed Teagan through the servants' quarters, and they emerged in the kitchens. The smells of breakfast still lingered, but Cailan wasn't hungry. Teagan stopped before they headed into the hallway. "I must warn you, Eamon doesn't know yet that you live."

"Isolde didn't tell him?" Cailan asked, tone neutral.

"With all the craziness over Connor and the mage, she seems to have forgotten," Teagan said, eyeing Cailan. "She stayed in Redcliffe though, so no worries."

"What of Connor?"

"Templars at the castle, and then they'll take him to the Circle when things are over."

Teagan showed Cailan to a room. "Alistair is right next door… or should be," Teagan added. "He spends more time in Fianna's rooms."

"Are they here right now?" Cailan asked.

"They went to the Arl of Denerim's estate," Teagan said. "We got word yesterday afternoon that Howe had taken Anora there for protection, but how on-the-level those claims are, is up for debate. The two of them went to find Anora and bring her back here for safer keeping."

Even though he still felt deep sadness at Aubrey's death, Cailan felt his heart leap at the thought of Anora. When he'd left for Ostagar he'd had little hope of ever seeing her again. And in spite of his torn feelings, he did love his wife, and the thought of Howe holding her made him furious.

"You should get some rest. And shave. Please," Teagan added with a wink. "We're still waiting for some nobility to arrive, and once they do we're starting the Landsmeet. It could be tomorrow, or next week. You'll need to be ready."

Once alone Cailan paced his rooms, exhausted but too agitated to sleep. A Landsmeet. He'd been to many of them, but this one had the potential to be the worst one since that meeting after his father disappeared. He'd almost lost the throne then; granted it would have been to Bryce Cousland, but still, he'd almost lost it. And this time he would be fighting for it. With a sigh he sat at a washstand with a small mirror hung on the wall. The water in the ewer was cold, but he didn't care. He found soap and a blade ready; the household staff was quite good here, something he'd always found during his visits here when he was younger.

He lathered up and began sliding the gleaming blade over his face and throat. The whiskers came away. His skin was smooth and light, and his hair had grown out. He looked more like himself again. Or… like he had looked before everything. Since coming back from the dead, he had to relearn who he truly was.

Cailan stared at his clean-shaven face for a long while. He ran a comb through his tangled hair. The man in the mirror was hardly recognizable. To him, at least. To everyone at the impending Landsmeet, it would be the face of Ferelden.

He woke later; the light was brighter, and for a moment he was confused. This wasn't Flemeth's hut, or the small rough room of the Gwaren inn. It was… right, a room in Eamon's Denerim estate. There were voices in the hall. He rolled over to look at the wall. He wasn't sure he wanted to see anyone just yet, even Alistair or Fianna. He'd been away from everyone so long the idea of being social, beyond his small group of traveling companions, was difficult. You'll have to get over it eventually, he thought. You're the king.

There was a timid tap on the door, and without waiting for Cailan's assent the door creaked open. "Cailan." It was Teagan. He turned over. "This is Riordan. He's another Warden, and he was imprisoned in Howe's dungeons."

Cailan sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Did you survive Ostagar?" he asked, surprised and hopeful. If he'd made it, perhaps others had, too.

Riordan shook his head and bowed low. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," he said, his voice lilting with an Orlesian accent, and Cailan's heart fell. "I came to see the situation here in Ferelden for myself and never dreamed I'd wind up tortured by one of your nobles."

"Yes, well, that noble's getting executed soon as I'm back in power," Cailan said, remembering his vow to Fergus and Fianna.

"He may have already gotten his due," Riordan said. "It is truly a relief to see that you are alive and well. It's good to know someone in power takes the Blight seriously."

Cailan wouldn't have said he was in power, per se. But it was a trivial point he didn't want to debate. "Did the other two Wardens come with you?" he asked.

Riordan shook his head and looked troubled; Teagan, as well. "Riordan accompanied Zevran and Leliana, as well as Queen Anora back here. Their news is that Alistair and Fianna were overwhelmed by Loghain's guards under Ser Cauthrien. Their capture was a diversion enough for them to escape."

"Anora's here then," Cailan whispered, even though he was worried about Alistair and Fianna. What would Fergus say when he learned his sister was in Fort Drakon? "Does she know?" he asked, voice a little louder. He was surprised by how tentative he sounded. Wasn't this what he'd lived for all those months between Ostagar and now?

"No. Right now she's just glad to be away from Howe and her father. Her room is down the hall from yours," Teagan said. "But when you're ready. I expect it'll be quite the shock for her to realize you're not dead. As it was for all of us."

"Yes, true," he said. "What of Alistair and Fianna?"

"We're going to try and come up with a contingency plan to get them out of Fort Drakon," Riordan said. "Zevran and Leliana have offered to go after them, as they're the quickest and quietest. But any attempts will have to wait until nightfall."

Cailan nodded in understanding. "Teagan, send word to Fergus at his estate and have him come here. With Viviane and no more than one or two other guards from our Redcliffe contingent. He'll want to be here when Fianna gets back. And tell him to leave Jowan home for the time being," he added, thinking it probably would not be wise to have Jowan under the same roof as Eamon. "Does uncle Eamon know about me?"

"We've been preparing a lot for the Landsmeet, and I've only told him that we have an irrefutable witness to testify to Loghain's war crimes. He's been a wreck between coming out of his coma and planning this. He keeps suggesting we put Alistair forward as king, and can't seem to understand when I tell him that it won't be necessary."

Cailan nearly snorted when he laughed. "Typical Eamon." He sat up straighter. "Send word to Fergus, and try to prepare Eamon for a nasty shock. And keep me informed about the Wardens' situation as well," he said. Teagan and Riordan bowed deeply and then left. Cailan flopped back again with a sigh, but realized he was settling back into his old role quite well. He would have to get a report on the actual Blight situation from Alistair, and information on the refugees from Teagan or Eamon. But first he had more important things to attend to.

He washed and dressed; he had his choice of finery to choose from, but didn't feel comfortable in the doublets and hose that most of the nobles wore. He settled on the simple style of clothing he'd worn throughout his journey; if he was going to reunite with Anora, he was going to be comfortable at least. He didn't take time to fix his hair; just ran a comb through again and let it loose about his face.

His heart pounded as he slipped out of his room and padded down the hall to where one door was ajar. He peered in to see a golden head bowed over a book, golden sunlight streaming down, making Anora look like she was glowing. His heart caught in his chest at how beautiful she looked. He watched her, heard the light swish of a turned page ever few moments. He held his breath and padded across the stone floor on stocking feet. He approached the chair and hovered over her, looking down at what she was reading. Something about Tevinter slave trade; his wife never could read anything normal, like dirty Nevarran romances.

Cailan leaned over the back of the chair so he was level with her face. She was too engrossed to notice. He turned and ever so slightly blew in her ear.

"Maker's breath! What is the…" Anora turned, and jumped up. The book thumped to the floor and she stumbled over it when she scrambled backward. "Cailan?" she whispered. Anora pressed against the wall, torn between elation and fear. "What sorcery is this?"

He shrugged. "No sorcery here. Now, whatever healed me, that's sorcery. But this? It's really me, Anora." He moved toward her, and she stayed still, cornflower blue eyes wide and lips slightly parted and trembling. "I'm really alive." He paused a few paces away from her, and waited. Anora pushed off the wall and took a tentative step, reaching out. Her hand lightly touched the fabric of his loose shirt, then another step and she was pressing her palm to his chest. She reached up her other hand to his clean-shaven jaw.

Cailan wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb, and stroked her smooth hair. "You're solid enough," she said finally, and he laughed.

"I do what amounts to coming back from the dead and all you can do is observe that I'm solid?" he asked. Ignoring Anora's skeptical look, he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. Her shriek of surprise filled the sunlit room, and he cut it off with a long, hard kiss.

At first Anora was stiff, uncertain how to react. But Cailan's kiss became more urgent, and she let herself go. He remembered the corner of the back garden in Gwaren, stealing his first kiss from her. The wine cellar at that manor house, where they'd played as children, and he first touched her bosom and kissed her more thoroughly than she'd been kissed before that point. He recalled moments stolen away from court, a kiss on the seaside or during a picnic in the grassy fields outside of Denerim. All wrapped up in this one kiss with his wife that he never thought he'd have again.

After that they just stood in the sunlight for a long while, unable to explain the shyness that came over them, but not running from it, either. "So. I'm back," Cailan finally said with a small smile. "The campaign didn't go quite as planned."

"So I heard." Anora sat on the edge of the bed, and Cailan needed no invitation. He sat with her, and before she could protest he lay back and drew her close to him, his arm around her shoulders. She sighed in contentment. "I never thought I'd feel this again. Where have you been?"

Cailan figured the beginning was the only place to start. He could tell by the way she shifted that Anora was skeptical, but she let him tell his tale. "We've been in Gwaren until about a week ago, when we took ship to come here."

Anora propped herself on an elbow and looked at Cailan carefully. "Gwaren. I sent for help."

"And I came," he said. Aubrey hung as an unspoken, tense topic between them, but Anora seemed hesitant to bring it up. He realized they must have discussed him at some point before Anora sent her. "She died," he said quietly, in answer to Anora's silent question.

"I'm sorry," she said, lying back against him again. "I know you cared for her."

"You do?" It was his turn to stiffen, and not in a good way.

"She and I talked. And I realized that I have not always been the best wife for you. I'm sorry for the times I drove you away, Cailan."

"And I'm sorry for the times I went astray without being driven." He kissed her forehead. "I've not always been the best husband, either. But we've been given something amazing that many people never get. Perhaps we can be better for one another this time around?"

He meant the words more than anything. Fergus's words came back to him, that he was lucky to have a wife to return to, after his own wife and child had been murdered. He didn't intend to squander this second chance with Anora. And from the way Anora sniffled next to him, he knew she accepted his apology.

Fergus arrived later with Alistair behind him, carrying Fianna. She was unconscious, a violent purple and green bruise spread out around an ugly gash in her temple. "She took one for the team for certain," Alistair said, but he was smiling. "She'll be alright once we get Wynne to see to her. Our healing mage," he explained. "I think the stress of our escape was a bit much for her."

"I remember her from Ostagar; she was a fighter," Cailan said as he followed them in. Alistair brought her to her room and laid her out on the bed.

Aside from the fact Fergus was here, it was like that last night in Ostagar when he'd made Alistair promise to do whatever was necessary to save Ferelden. Alistair sat on one side, brushing her dark auburn hair out of her eyes. She winced and her eyelids fluttered. "Alistair?" she said, voice hoarse.

He smiled. "We made it back to Eamon's. And someone else is here for you." She struggled to open her eyes and then blinked when she saw Fergus leaning on the other side of her. She tried to push herself up to hug him, but Alistair held her down with a hand on her shoulder. "Not until Wynne sees to you," he ordered.

"I hear I'm needed?" The voice sounded wise, and when Cailan looked, it belonged to an older woman with short white hair that she'd managed to slick back into a little ponytail. Her eyes were kind, and she carried a staff. "How is… oh, Maker," she breathed upon catching sight of Cailan. "Your Majesty." She dropped to one knee and bowed her head, clutching her staff with a trembling hand. "We believed you dead at Ostagar. This is truly a miracle of the Maker."

Clearly Fianna and Alistair had kept his existence a secret even from their close traveling companions. "Rise," Cailan said, feeling embarrassed by the display; though he was going to have to start getting used to it sooner rather than later. "You were with the mages from the Circle. Thank you for your service," he said, and Wynne smiled, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy.

"Wynne, he's not dead anymore. I'm almost dead," Fianna called and Alistair's laugh filled the room.

Anora joined them upon hearing the laughter, and she stood with her arm around Cailan's waist. He wrapped his arm about her shoulders, holding her close to him while Wynne attended to Fianna's concussion. When the mage finished, Fianna was still slightly bruised, and her forehead glowed a pale blue. Her eyes were clearer, and she managed to sit up. "I'm fine, thanks. What now?"

Cailan nearly burst out laughing and Fergus dropped his head into his hands. "You waste no time, Lady Fianna," Anora said with a grin.

"She gets furious when you call her that," Alistair said, scooting closer to Fianna and putting his arm around her shoulders, completely oblivious to the fact that several people, his king and queen included, were in the room watching him. He was far more confident than he'd been that last night before Cailan nearly died, and even in the weeks since he'd seen him last during the snowy return to Ostagar. And it wasn't just finding the Grey Wardens; it was finding Fianna. She had the noble breeding to challenge him, but the feistiness to bring him out of his shell. And watching the two of them looking so serious and intent on what Anora was telling them, while still being completely connected to one another, left Cailan feeling envious of what his brother had. He'd never had that casual ease with Anora; but maybe he could.

"What do you think, Cailan?" Anora asked, and he shook his head. She sighed, but kept a smile pasted on; she was making monumental effort as well. "We could use some last solid proof against my father, and I think I have it. But they'll have to get into the Alienage to find it."

Mention of the Alienage suddenly reminded Cailan of Aubrey, and somehow he knew that her memory would always haunt his marriage. Anora explained the slave trade she was certain her father was engaged in, selling elves to Tevinter slavers to help fund his war. "You have the means to get in," she told Fianna. "Get in, get the proof, and come back. By then all the nobles should be here and we can proceed with the Landsmeet."

"She just got her skull cracked. She's not going anywhere," Alistair said in flat voice, narrowed golden-brown eyes turned on Anora, and his arm tightening around Fianna's shoulders.

Rather than appear grateful for Alistair's protection, Fianna wriggled out of his grasp. "If it's what we need to do, then we should do it," she said. "Wynne did her job; and maybe she can come with us," she added. "But the bottom line is this is something that needs to be done; I'm not letting that asshole get away with killing off the other Wardens. And trying to kill the king," she added. Now that she was healed and her strength was returning, there was a dangerous fire in her green eyes, and a taut tension in her limbs as if she would snap at any moment.

Fergus turned to her suddenly. "What happened to Howe?"

"I looked him in the eye and killed him," she said, as casually as if she'd been announcing what she ate for dinner. "I stuck the family sword in his chest and twisted it. Then I spat on his corpse and I may have kicked it a few times. It's still a better death than he deserved."

"But he is dead," Fergus said, and she nodded. He threw his arms around her and hugged his sister close. "You've done the family a great honor," he said, voice muffled by Fianna's hair, but Cailan heard what he said. He saw the pride on Alistair's face, the tears leaking out of Fergus's eyes. Next to him, Anora's expression was the carefully neutral one he was so used to, but just maybe there was some relief behind those blue eyes of hers. He glanced over to see Teagan, who nodded to him.

Fianna and Alistair would do their job in the Alienage; Fergus would head to the Gnawed Noble Tavern and continue to rally support. And Cailan had a long overdue meeting with the Arl of Redcliffe.