At the crack of dawn the next morning, the Highever estate was paid an unexpected visitor. Aedan woke to a nervous knocking on his door and when he opened it, it was to see the housekeeper looking unprepared for such excitement so early in the morning, her normally severe bun replaced with a quick braid over her shoulder. Behind her Theron stood casually in the hall, already in his full leather armor and armed to the teeth as if he were prepared to go plunging into darkspawn at any second. "Young master." Rebecca nodded respectfully. "The Warden said that he wanted to talk, and that it was urgent."

"Thank you, Rebecca." Aedan dismissed her and she gratefully disappeared down the stairs. Turning to his guest, Aedan raised an enquiring eyebrow. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting you. What brings you to my door?" He felt incredibly under dressed with Theron standing in full battle dress, given that he'd only been awake for perhaps five minuets before Rebecca had knocked. He'd thrown on a loose cotton shirt and some pants, but was completely unprepared to entertain any guests as he was.

Theron, not one for customs, didn't seem to care. "A number of things, actually." He replied in his particular drawl that Aedan was coming to associate with the Dale. "First, I wanted to thank you for bringing back Alistair. Human or not, he's a Warden and my friend. Words can not express how much I appreciate him being among us once more."

"No thanks are necessary." Aedan replied with a small shake of his head, leaning his shoulder against the doorway. "Allies look out for each other."

"Yes, that was the other thing that I wished to speak to you about." Theron replied, his face gone grim. "It would probably be best if we didn't discuss this in the hallway."

Feeling equal parts curious and wary, Aedan straightened himself. "To the library, then." Theron followed him, not at all commenting about the human's lack of footwear if he noticed that Aedan wasn't wearing shoes. When they were in the library, both of them sat, Theron's with his swords laying across his lap and Keran woke to come settle asleep again on Aedan's feet. "So, what would you like to talk about?"

"The Queen." Theron replied shortly, sitting tense as a strung bow. "And you. Yesterday in the estate… What was that about? You and Kallian both acted… strangely. I have yet to see your elf companion to press her for information, but I need to know if the two of you are dangerous to my people. How many enemies do you have in this Landsmeet of yours who you may be prone to lopping the head off of?"

A bitter smile twisted up the corner of Aedan's lips. "That was the last one so far." He replied and sat back in his chair, folding his hands on the table. "I don't know what you know of Rendon Howe from our previous conversations, but that man murdered my entire family and because of that was elevated far beyond his station. Killing him can only help your cause against Loghain, of that I can assure you. With him dead, my brother can reclaim his title of Teyrn of Highever, and we can support you in the Landsmeet. As for Kallian…" He paused, wondering how much of the girl's story he should share. "I do not know the whole story between her and Urien's son. I do know that she was taken prisoner and from there sold into slavery. From what I've heard the others say, she was abducted by him on a celebration day of some sort along with several other women from the Alienage. I had guessed that she had been beaten and exploited by the soldiers that took her captive, possibly even the Arl's son as well. From her reaction in the dungeon, I assume that my guess was correct. She's never said as much to me, but then again, Kallian never says much about herself to anyone. Solona may be one of the few that she's ever confided in, and she's determined to keep Kallian's secret." He deliberately didn't use the word was, stubbornly clinging to the hope that Solona was alive and that they would find her again.

Theron shifted, his eyes flicking to the tabletop almost guiltily. "I… had guessed something similar from her conversation with her cousin in the basement dungeons." Theron leaned forward with his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, a pensive expression on his face. "Her actions make more sense in that light… But back to you and your brother. Tell me honestly: Am I putting my faith in the wrong men? Trusting King Cailan had our order nearly wiped out. We can't afford another mistake like that."

A wiry grin crossed Aedan's face. For not knowing a lot about politics, the elf certainly could spot a bad deal when one was given to him. "I don't know." He replied honestly, and Theron lifted his eyebrows curiously. "All I do know is that Loghain hates the Wardens, and that for whatever reason, he condoned and rewarded Howe for the slaughter of innocents. If for no other reason that would be enough for me to see him fall. But all of this fighting since Ostagar, his own daughter taken captive by Howe, what's happened here in Denerim, Gwaren, Highever and Amaranthine… He was a hero once, but now he's his own worst enemy. If the Wardens stand to rally all of Ferelden to defeat the Blight, that means that Loghain needs to step down, and that's a cause that both my brother and I can support whole heartedly. A Cousland does what he must, and with the country fallen to petty warring, what we must do find a way to bring her back together again."

Theron was quiet for a good long while, contemplating what Aedan had said before finally nodding. "I was never a fan of Loghain anyway. But that brings us to my second point. Your shemlen queen sent for me this morning. I don't know why she wanted to talk to me, of all people, but she asked for the Warden's support to restore her throne. I told her we would."

Aedan tensed, his hands rolling into fists subconsciously. "That's probably why she wanted to talk to you." He grumbled and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache.

"I don't understand." Theron cocked his head, sounding a touch defensive. "She is already your queen. Why not keep her there?"

"Because she has been anything but the sort of queen that Ferelden needs since Cailan died." Aedan replied, tousling his hair as if that could help his mind puzzle out what it all meant. "I'm going to go wake up Fergus. He needs to be in on this part of the discussion. I'd tell you to go get Alistair as well, but he is not going to want to hear what we have to say."

Theron's eyebrow nearly arched into his hairline at that. "Why not? He knows more of shemlen politics than I do."

"Because from everything I know about Alistair, he doesn't want to be king." Aedan replied and stood, heading for the door. "I'll be back in a moment." He left the room without waiting for Theron to muster an argument and was at his brother's door in less than a moment, rapping on the thick door. Fergus greeted him with a groggy look, obviously already having been up for a little while if the state of his dress were anything to go by. Perhaps he hadn't slept at all, and Aedan wouldn't have been surprised. The two had been up until the wee hours of the morning writing missives to the Banns of Highever and Amaranthine calling for their support once more as Fergus planned on claiming their father's title of Teyrn. Aedan had been too worried to sleep, but his exhaustion from first the battle at the Denerim Estate then the mission to Fort Drakon had hit him like a charging mabari and he'd fallen asleep with his forehead on wet ink in the middle of writing a letter to Bann Esmerelle.

Fergus was surprised to see him up so early, and Aedan briefed his brother quickly on Theron and why he was here. Fergus immediately seemed to wake up a little more and returned to the library with Aedan readily.

"So, I hear that the Wardens intend to support Queen Anora's claim to the throne." Fergus stated as he walked into the room, pulling up a chair for himself and settling down next to Aedan's seat, looking Theron over with a speculative eye. "I would be prepared to support your decision, but I'd like to know your reasoning first."

Theron visibly went on the defensive, sitting back in his chair with his shoulders tense. "It's as I told your brother. She's already your queen. Just keep her there."

"Eamon has talked to you about making Alistair the king, hasn't he?" Fergus asked with a neutral tone.

"Of course." Theron replied stiffly. "Alistair won't entertain the idea. He's never wanted to be king, and likes being a Warden just fine. I'm not about to tell him to do something that he abhors when there's no reason for it."

Fergus nodded, folding his fingers together and silently thought it over for a few moments. "Tell me what Anora offered you, if you would please."

Theron eyed him suspiciously, feeling more and more like he was being lured into a trap, but eventually decided that there was no more delaying it. He had come here for advice after all, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. "For the most part, she told me what I already knew. That Alistair was a good enough bid for the throne, but he obviously doesn't want it. He could lead the charge, I'm sure, but I have a hard time imagining him dealing with anything that follows. Eamon claims the opposite; a few months of training would get him by. But at the end of the day, he is a Grey Warden. We're not supposed to get involved with political affairs." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Though ever since Ostagar, that's all we've been doing. He wouldn't be the first King I've put on a throne."

Fergus and Aedan exchanged surprised looks, so Theron felt the need to elaborate. "The dwarves were in a sorry state when we got to them. Their… dishers…? were having it out with each other in the streets. Wouldn't help until they got a king, so by the Creators I got them their blasted king." If he had a stout drink, he would have swigged it. Even the mention of Orzammar made him sour, let alone remembering their political frenzy and his forced part in it all. "So please, by all means, convince me that getting involved in this is what the Grey Wardens really need."

"The first time we met, you said that you needed help getting rid of Loghain." Aedan said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Whatever Anora has said, I don't think that she is the person to help you with that. The Queen is her father's daughter for certain, so I can't imagine supporting the Wardens if it also meant dispossessing Loghain."

Fergus nodded gravely in agreement. "Now that Howe is out of the picture, I'm going to be campaigning the other nobles for support to get my title back. Let me take Alistair along. If he's as hopeless as you seem to think, then I'll abandon the notion of putting him forward for the throne and support your decision to put Anora there instead. Does this sound agreeable to you?"

Theron considered that for a moment, looking between the two brothers then finally relented with a sigh. "Aye. You've got Alistair for the day. When I head back to Eamon's, I'll send him your way."

"Thank you." Fergus gave Theron a reassuring smile, then stood. "Now if you'll excuse me, I am in desperate need of a wash. Aedan, you'll continue the hunt for Solona today?"

Aedan nodded his head in confirmation. "Kallian said that she'd talk to me this afternoon about anything they found or didn't find."

"Is she canvassing the city with her… Knifers?" Theron asked, hesitating over the name of their group.

Aedan seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. "She is. They've been taking it in shifts since yesterday, keeping an eye on the docks where the slavers have been known to moor and patrol the back streets of the city often."

"If Alistair is going to be out garnering support from the shemlen nobility," Theron stood with a stretch, replacing his weapons on his belt. "Then I think I'd like to know this city better. I'll come back with Alistair."

"Then we will see you back in a little while." Fergus replied courteously, giving the Warden a small not then excused himself from the room. Theron showed himself out of the manor, leaving Aedan in the library to pick up where he'd left off the night before, composing letters to those that would still support the Couslands.

•º•.•º•

Fergus tried his best not to remark on Alistair's nervous habit of making witty one-liners whenever the opportunity presented itself, fearing that would send the young man into a tangent about cheese or some such. They were in the Gnawed Noble and Fergus had decided that Alistair needed some liquid courage before they should even bother attempting to woo the nobles. Fergus could have done fine with this task on his own, but this was about Alistair, not him. Once their drinks had arrived Fergus waited until Alistair had swallowed his first mouthful before opening up the conversation. "So, what are your thoughts on becoming king?"

He was glad that he'd waited, because Alistair's resulting sputter would have certainly ended up in a face full of ale. "K-king? Noooooo, no no no. I'm a Warden, thanks, and I'd like to stay that way."

Fergus smiled patiently, mentally sighing. This was going to be quite the battle. "Alistair, I know that being king was never your intention. But these are desperate times, and I'm afraid that your lineage has finally caught up with you."

"Look, I know Eamon probably put you up to this." Alistair was in full suspicion mode now, glaring at Fergus. "But Wardens can't be kings. It's in the rulebook. Or it would be if you know, I had one. But that's beside the point! Anora can keep her throne. I certainly don't want it. I've never wanted it. Being… who I am had never been important to me."

Another sigh and Fergus took a drink. "Alistair, before you dig your heels in on this I want to point out something for you. First, the Landsmeet will likely waffle about keeping Anora as Queen if a blooded heir is put forward." Alistair opened his mouth to argue, but Fergus lifted his hand for silence. "The people love her, and I've no doubt that she is capable. However, after Cailan died and Loghain became Regent, Anora lost her voice. She was easily muzzled by Loghain, and she failed to bring the Bannorn together after the king's death. She may have a shrewd mind and a talent for economy, and that would be enough if this were Orlais or the Marches. But this is Ferelden. Without a strong personality on the throne, the Banns will squabble amongst themselves indefinitely, and we'll go back to the days from before King Calenhad."

"Yeah, well, that's great and all, but I'm not exactly leader material." Alistair replied, playing with his mug absently. "Just ask Theron. He makes all the decisions. I just follow. I'm a follower."

Fergus tried and succeeded to not sigh but did indulge himself with another drink. "Well, consider this. We'll call it an incentive for deciding that you want to take the crown. You are a threat to Anora." He paused and let Alistair look shocked before continuing. "Bastard or not, you carry the blood of the Therin line, and some of the nobility would have you on the throne for that alone. If you refuse to become king, Anora very well may have you executed to prevent the Banns from challenging her with you as the figurehead."

Alistair's hand went to his neck as if he could feel the blade there already. "But I really don't want to be king. I'm not a threat to Anora, really."

"Just think on it for a few moments." Fergus replied and took another draught, disappointed to find his mug already half empty. "So you don't want the throne. Great. But lets say you have children, theoretically. They are also a threat to Anora. If she can eliminate you now, it would save her a lot of trouble later."

Alistair mulled that over, taking another drink and looking almost comically put out by the thought. "I get it."

Fergus was silently proud that he didn't crow with joy. "Look, Alistair, these might sound like hollow words now, but they are true. Being a leader of men isn't about if you know your soupspoon from your dessertspoon. It's about how you treat those who are beholden to you." Fegus had to clamp down on a wave of sadness that suddenly hit him, remembering those exact words coming from his deceased father in a similar speech. "Compassion is a key quality to want in your monarch, which seems to be a trait that you have an abundance of. Furthermore, it's not a trait that is simply taught. How to address the Banns at a Landsmeet is an etiquette lesson, something that can be learned. If you decided to become king, I would gladly volunteer to teach you. Ferelden cannot survive this Blight divided as it is, and you happen to be the only legitimate candidate that knows a lick about fighting Darkspawn. If you've survived the Deep Roads with only a handful of people in your group as I've been told, then I imagine that you and your companions are going to be invaluable in the upcoming fight."

Alistair considered that, sipping at his ale for a handful of silent moments. "I'm not agreeing to anything, but what sort of stuff would I need to know? If, you know, I suddenly spontaneously decided that being king wasn't the worst decision I could make in my life."

Despite his flippant tone, Fergus wanted to sign in relief. He was at least a step in the door. Instead he smiled and finished his ale. "See that man over there?" He nodded his chin at a miserable looking noble in the corner nursing an ale like it was his first born child. "That's Arl Wulff of West Hills. His lands have been hit hard by the Horde. He has his whole force here in Denerim because he has nowhere else to keep them. We're going to convince him that Loghain is not a very good Regent and that he should support the Warden's efforts to quell the Blight."

"Sure, make it sound easy." Alistair took another gulp of his liquid courage, his sarcasm back in full swing.

Fergus was starting to like Alistair's sense of humor and smiled as he stood. "Come on, I'll break the ice. Just don't' show your fear. Old Wulff is like a mabari; he can smell that sort of thing."

Alistair shot him a you are SO not helping look and stood, turning toward the lone Bann.

Wulff paid them no mind until they entered his tolerance bubble, and a fierce glower replaced the gloomy look he had been sporting earlier. "Can't you leave an old man to his drinking?" He grumbled. "Go away! I haven't got any coin for you rot-gut beggars."

Fergus sat himself down across from Wulff despite the rough greeting. "I assure you Ser, we aren't here for begging."

Wulff blinked several times when he saw Fergus, a look of disbelief on his face. "Well, I'll be damned. Bryce's boy. We all thought you were dead."

"The Maker hasn't consigned me to the pyre yet." Fergus replied grimly, then gestured to Alistair. "This is Alistair Therin, of the Grey Wardens."

"Therin you say?" Wulff blinked up at Alistair, scrutinizing him closely. With a heavy sigh he leaned back against the wall. "Spitting ghost of gold 'ole Maric, he is. Maker rest his soul. Now that I've got a couple of fellas who should be dead standing here, what do you want?"

Fergus shot a pointed look at Alistair and it took him a second to realize that was his cue. "Oh, uh, well, you see, I was going to ask for some help. In the Landsmee-"

"Help?" Wulff practically roared, slamming his tankard against the table. "Help, like the help I got when those damned sodding darkspawn came up out of the ground and attacked my Arling? Like the help I got when my sons fell to those blighters? Go ask someone else! My family is spent of help."

A look so profoundly sad possessed Alistair's face that Fergus was sure somewhere someone had kicked his puppy. "I'm sorry for your loss." And he sounded sorry too, his tone honest enough that Wulff looked up from his angry brooding. "I was at Ostagar. I know what it's like to have hordes of darkspawn piling up with no end in sight."

Silently Fergus was reassessing his chances of making Alistair decide to become king. Maybe there was a shot after all.

"Tch, then you know it's no use." Wulff grumbled and drank, nearly finishing off his tankard. "All of southern Ferelden covered by black clouds, the ground rotting beneath your feet, plagues and darkspawn raids going on until even the crows get sick of the smell of carrion."

"It's not all hopeless! Look, the Grey Wardens need help. We've been gathering an army." Alistair paused and looked to Fergus who gave him an encouraging nod. "We can stop this Blight, but only if we have all of Ferelden with us."

"Sodding good luck to you then." Wulff replied without looking up.

They were losing Wulff and Alistair fumbled for a decent reply to that. Fergus mercifully stepped in to help. "If Loghain loses his rank as Regent, we can get the Bannorn to stop fighting by putting a new candidate for the throne forward." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alistair flinch and hoped that Wulff didn't notice.

The Arl chuckled, raising his now empty tankard in the universal sign of needed a refill. "Yeah? Who?"

"Maric's last living son." Fergus replied smoothly, gesturing at Alistair.

Wulff looked over the young man briefly. "No promises, but I'll consider."

"Thank you Wulff." The barmaid came around just as Fergus stood and he gave her a couple of coins. "This round is on me." He put a hand on Alistair's shoulder and quit the Noble before the Warden could have a nervous breakdown. "See, now that wasn't so bad."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? He only said he'd think about it. And that was a very shaky maybe."

"Give him another drink to mull it over and he'll come around. Wulff is a good man that terrible things have happened to. Loghain has done him no favors, so he'll be more inclined to join us when the time arrives."

"This all seems very sneaky." Alistair replied dryly. "I don't like sneaky."

Fergus laughed at that. "Then be grateful you aren't trying this in Orlais!"

"Or Antiva." Alistair grinned back. "I have it on good authority the Antivian royal line is headed by bastards several times over."

Fergus grinned and lead the way back to the Highever estate. "I wouldn't be surprised in the least. But next we're going to have an inspection of my men. Amaranthine and Highever have always been connected, and with Howe gone, we've… inherited a good number of his troops. Have you ever given a speech before?"

Alistair sputtered again. "A-a speech? Me? Maker no."

"Well, then now would be a good time to practice." Fergus replied with a grin and barely restrained himself from ruffling the man's hair. It was like having a younger brother again. "If you ever find yourself in charge of a platoon of nervous men in the heat of battle, a few words can go a long way toward a victory."

"But I can't give a speech." Alistair gasped. "I get the most horrible stutter, and my mind starts wandering. Maybe it's alright at first, but next thing you know I'm talking about dragons having afternoon tea."

"That's what practice is for." He clapped the younger man heartily on the shoulder, shaking him slightly when Alistair looked like he wanted to argue, well on the way to unleashing his pouting face. "It's much easier to do when you're not about to be beheaded by darkspawn. Trust me. Just talk to them like a Grey Warden. They'll respect you for that, if nothing else."

Alistair sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. "Remind me when we get back to tell Theron that he's an evil little elf for agreeing to this."

Sorry guys for being a bit late! First day of the new semester and I forgot to upload the chapter the night before so I could ship it off this morning. Ah well.

After adventuring across Ferelden with the oh-so-polite Theron, Alistair is most definitely hardened. There's a couple of reasons here why I think Alistair would be more open to the leading thing, one technical, and one because of the story. Technically, as a rogue playthrough I've found that it's a terrible idea to lead with your rogue. Because every door with a million bandits behind it immediately generate threats on the first thing that walks through said door, and a rogue that gets all the heat is a dead rogue. Therefore, leading with your tank (in my case Alistair) is a much better idea. As far as the story goes, Theron can hardly tell up from down when he's indoors, so either Alistair, Sten, or Oghren had to lead the way or risk getting lost and running in circles forever.

This is the point in the story where things are going to start going a little differently than what's scripted in Origins, and I hope ya'll like my tweaks. I figure that since the Wardens are now playing a bigger part in the storyline that I should compensate somehow so that we don't have another walk-through on our hands. There are events and dialogue trains that I think are unavoidable, but I'll see if we can't have a little fun with it. So, big brother Fergus is taking wittle Alistair under his wing. I wonder how much this'll effect the Landsmeet?