So, here it is. The Landsmeet. The Big One. The Beginning of the End. The Point of No Return. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I liked writing it. I switched some things up, especially concerning Alistair's role in all of this, but I wanted to make sure that he still kept in character. I hope I've accomplished that. Thanks for all the support thus far; I've really enjoyed having you guys along for the ride. Onward ho!
Kallian felt gritty and raw the next morning when she woke up at the crack of dawn, her pounding headache serving as a reminder of just how much she had drunk the night before. Careful not to wake Shianni she disentangled herself from her cousin's sleeping death grip and padded to the kitchen in the next room over and quickly made a concoction of lukewarm tea (more like slightly bitter leaf water, really) and a drop of alcohol. Once she had downed that she put on her boots and headed out into the Alienage to join the early morning crowd going to work. Ammy would have something to get rid of the headache, and after only running into one dead end she made her way to the ritzy part of Denerim and entered the familiar gates of the Highever estate, waving a quick hello to the gate guard who watched her trudging approach with a curiously raised brow, but didn't comment on the elf's ragged appearance.
Once inside she was accosted by Keran who trotted out of the next hall over and barked cordially at her, which sent her head to pounding even worse than before. "Easy boy." She hissed at the war dog, rubbing her temples. "Aunt Kalli has a massive headache." Keran whined and lowered his head as if to say he was sorry. She forgave him, but only because he was so damned cute.
But Keran was not finished with her yet and quickly put his big slobbery mouth around her thin wrist and tugged her toward the hall with a soft woof. Slightly disgusted, Kallian drew her wrist back and wiped the slobber off on her pants as best she could. "It's too early for this mutt."
Keran whined and tugged at her belt for good measure then turned and started walking, his stubby little tail wagging as he trotted on ahead, stopping a few feet in front of her to look over his shoulder, obviously wanting to be followed. Heaving a sigh, Kallian followed the mabari, glad that the dog was leading her in the vicinity that she wanted to go anyway. He stopped outside of Solona's door with a whine and patiently waited. For all the intelligence in the world, he simply couldn't open a door without thumbs.
Kallian sighed and shook her head, opening the door without bothering to knock. "Ammy, sorry to but you but have you got any-" She paused, dumbstruck with her mouth hanging open. Solona stared back, horrified and wearing nothing at all, straddling an equally naked and surprised Aedan. The three stared at each other in awkward silence before Kallian finally snapped her jaw shut. "Right. Sorry to intrude." Then she simply shut the door.
Solona had never gotten dressed so fast in her life.
In a scramble of limbs and bed sheets she half fell, half vaulted off the bed and grabbed the first article of clothing she picked up, which just happened to be Aedan's pants and threw them on like demons were on her heels. "Kallian!" She yelled through the door and tossed on a shirt, sprinting out the door after the elf, following Kallian's maniacal laughter down the hall. "Kallian! KALLIAN! Get BACK here!"
After a mad dash through the estate Kallian only allowed Solona to catch up with her outside in the maze garden, laughing so hard that she had to hold herself up by holding onto on to the gazebo's support legs. Solona, flushed from running and embarrassment, tried to look very stern. "Couldn't you have at least knocked?"
Kallian took a moment to catch her breath. "Glad I didn't, honestly."
"Kallian!" Solona hissed, which only made the elf dissolve into a fit of giggles all over again, her headache completely forgotten in the wake of this new development.
"Aah, Maker's balls Ammy, I've been waitin' a long time to catch you two knocking boots." With a great effort Kallian got a hold of herself and wiped at the tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.
"You can't tell anyone." Solona whispered, looking around sharply to make sure that they were alone. "Even if… he's still nobility, Kallian. Even if Fergus is taking the title now."
"Pdfft! Ammy, honestly, who am I going to tell?" Kallian asked with a grin. "Well, maybe Sticker-"
"Kallian!"
The elf laughed at Solona's distressed tone. "Yer secret's safe with me Ammy." She assured in a far more sincere tone. Then she got a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, when are the babies coming?"
Solona went wide-eyed. "Blessed Andraste! There will certainly be no babies!"
Kallian snorted. "Oh please. I seriously doubt you two are goin' to exactly be chaste now that you've done the naughty dance."
Solona flushed red. "Well, no, but there are…ways… to keep from having children. They teach us in the Circle."
"Well that IS disappointing." Kallian sighed and leaned her hip against the side of the gazebo. "And here I wanted to be an aunt to some little noble human mages. That would have been fun."
Solona groaned, rubbing her temples. "That's… well, probably not happening."
Kallian heaved a large sigh. "You're no fun. Well, I wandered over for a hangover cure, but I'm good to go now."
"Blast it Kallian…" Solona rolled her eyes and scrubbed her face. "Just… if you want to see me, knock from now on. Please?"
"Cross my heart Ammy." Kallian grinned. "Hey, don't we have the Landsmeet today?"
Solona's eyes widened. "Maker! I forgot!" She turned toward the estate, realizing a little late that Aedan was probably trapped in her room, pants-less and dashed back inside, followed by the merciless laughter of Kallian who was finding this whole scenario entirely too funny.
•º•.•º•
The Landsmeet hall was a long building with spacious floors and a raised gallery for the more important nobles and their men at arms to stand on. The far end of the hall was a slightly raised platform with two empty thrones, one of which would continue to stand empty until the matter of succession was put to rest.
The hall had been slowly filling with people. The lower floor was already brimming with local freeholders that were anxious to hear the outcome. Every time that an Arl or Bann came through the door they were announced by a crier and greeted with respect from the gathered freeholders. Loghain and Arl Eamon arrived fairly early in the procession, the regent's men taking up positions near the thrones and the soldiers of Redcliffe filing in orderly rows in front of the Arl's stand.
The long hall was almost completely full by noon, the air buzzing with the hum of a thousand different conversations. It was then that the Highever forces made their appearance, baffling the crier stationed at the door. A soldier with the laurels of house Cousland stamped on his breastplate mercifully filled in for the poor fool. "Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever! Representing the alliance of the Teyrnir of Highever and the Arling of Amaranthine!"
The announcement was met with a great uproar, the hall bursting into a roar of mixed outrage and jubilation. Among the chaos strode Fergus, his head held high and aloof from the nonsense around him. Followed close behind and just to the side walked Aedan, bearing his own crest just as proudly and sparing the riot not an iota of attention, a finely dressed Solona on his arm. Behind the brothers came a column of their honor guard, the first rows bearing the Cousland heraldry, followed by soldiers stamped with the green teardrop crossed by lances of the city of Highever. Bringing up the rear were arms men of Amaranthine, their shields bearing the rampant bear head on a checkered background.
The roaring calmed by the time the upset Teyrn took his place on the second level, standing next to the Arl of Redcliffe and his soldiers, acknowledging their alliance.
"I didn't think you would dare show your faces here today." Loghain boomed over the assembled nobles, silencing the rabble with his volume alone.
"A Landsmeet is called." Fergus replied in an equally loud voice, though his was cultured for these events, sounding calm and cool as a still pond even when projecting over the hall. There was no rush, no hurry to his words, just a calm statement of facts. "All the leaders of the country are required to attend if they want their voices heard, and so here I am."
"You're no leader boy!" An Arl from the opposite side of the room shouted, and several others in his vicinity voiced their agreement. "Your family's traitors!"
The Landsmeet broke out in a roar of shouting again, the noise deafening as all the voices ran into one another.
"Did Rendon Howe tell you that?" Fergus shouted above the noise and they quieted again. "Did he tell you that Bryce Cousland sold the secrets of his country to Orlesians? The very Orlesians that he fought alongside our regent Loghain and our deceased and beloved King Maric? You must all remember the battle of White River. My father was there! He fought for this country when others had given it up for lost! He did not betray Ferelden. He was betrayed! By the same man he counted as a friend and ally from those dark times!" He'd captured the Landsmeet now. Some were still not convinced if their grim expressions were anything to go by, but most were listening. His righteous anger had snared them, quailed their protests.
"Like his father before him, Rendon Howe betrayed the trust of his countrymen. Highever burned because of a cowardly act by a cowardly man. My father's men were headed to Ostagar to fight back the darkspawn, and Howe was to join us in that endeavor. Instead he waited until the dead of night and slaughtered everyone inside, taking no prisoners! Even women and children fell to the blades of his men, not a single spared. Innocent blood paid for Howe's selfish ambition, executed for a crime that never existed." Fergus' voice trembled with barely restrained rage and he locked gazes with the man who had started the riot until he looked away, cowed into submission. When he spoke again, it was with a calm voice and he was once again calm and unruffled. "The traitor was never my father. It was always Howe. Howe, who in a few short weeks became not only Teyrn of Highever, but Arl of Denerim as well! Where was Arl Urien's son to take his place when he fell at Ostagar? Locked in his own dungeon, put there by the traitor and killed when his death was more profitable. And which of you were to be next? Who could stand against a man with half of Ferelden's surviving army? One who had no secret alliance with our very own Regent!"
The shouting fired up again, though this time not at Fergus. The combined rage of the Bannorn was directed squarely at Loghain, the antagonist for many of the assembled Banns who had been bitterly fighting him in the bloody civil war for the better part of the last year.
"Enough!" Loghain roared, his voice filling the hall. "Howe was a grown man accountable for his own actions, and will face the judgment of the Maker, as must we all. Whatever his crimes, he should have been brought before the Senechal and judged accordingly, not murdered in his very home by usurpers such as yourselves."
"Howe got his justice." Aedan declared. "Rendon Howe murdered my family, and for that alone I could have enacted blood rights as is my due. But he also betrayed the trust of his Teyrn, and as a disloyal vassal he was met with the punishment that all traitors deserve. Tradition dictates that these offences could only be paid for in blood."
"Do not cite tradition to make your ploy for power seem legitimate." Loghain snarled in response.
"It is no ploy. Without an Arl, the banns of Amaranthine fall under my jurisdiction until a new Arl can be appointed, and they have sworn their arms to me until it comes time that a new Arl is appointed." Fergus supplied coolly, tilting his head up slightly as if to challenge Loghain to try and argue the obvious truth of his words. The Regent never got a chance to provide the expected input.
"See here lords and ladies of the Landsmeet! Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions out of fear!" Eamon picked up the tail of the conversation, injecting his cause to the debate as had been planned beforehand. "He placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?"
As impassioned as the speech was, the cheering that met the end of Eamon's piece was not much compared to the complete ruckus that had ensued before. Loghain, for one, seemed more amused than anything, and even went so far as to clap for the Arl, a mocking half grin on his face. "A fine performance Eamon. But no one here is taken in by it." He shot a glare to the assembled nobility as if securing the truthfulness of the statement by pure force of will if absolutely necessary. "You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne, and every soul here knows it. The better question is who will pull the strings? Well look no further! There-!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Theron who had quietly been watching the chaos of the Landsmeet with his hands on the hilts of his swords in case trouble reared its ugly head. The Wardens had snuck in during the chaos following the Cousland's introduction, expecting that there would be trouble if they tried to make an appearance on their own.
For his part, Theron seemed just a tad startled to be suddenly called into the limelight without any warning, and the people who had been in close proximity suddenly fell back as if he were the living embodiment of the Blight itself, revealing Alistair not standing more than half a pace behind. Gathered in a loose ring behind the two Wardens were their back up in the event that things got as dirty as Fergus had warned it might. The red-bearded dwarf swayed on his feet just behind Theron, eyeing the people around him as warily as possible given his obvious state of inebriation. The woman with the Orlesian accent stood behind Alistair, flanked by the giant qunari with the purple eyes and as a backdrop to them all stood the golem, unmoving save for the occasional glance at a woman nearby who was wearing a feathered hat and severely regretting it after receiving what could only be described as menacing looks from what appeared to be a moving pile of human-shaped rocks. Behind the intimidating group of the Warden's companions, the red head of a small elf could just barely be made out. Kallian stood near the doors, her eyes roaming the crowd. Sticker was at her side, along with a couple other members of the Knifers. They went largely unnoticed given that most people's attention was on either Shale or the Regent's ranting.
"The puppeteer himself!" Loghain's expression turned grim as he stalked to the edge of the crowd, intimidating in his shiny silver plate armor. "Tell us Warden! How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What did they offer you? How much is the price of Ferelden honor now?"
Flabbergasted by the sudden turn of events, Theron's bewilderment quickly turned to rage with the ease of a lifetime of practice. "Orlesians?" He shouted, color creeping up his neck and his eyes widening a fraction with the incredulity he felt at the outlandish accusation. "It wasn't Orlesians that killed Cailan. It wasn't Orlesians that ransacked Lothering, either! Orlesians aren't the ones that have been systematically poisoning your land! You were there Loghain! Did the horde of angry darkspawn look like an army of Orlesians to you?"
His delivery shocked some of the Landsmeet, but Arl Wulff was far beyond caring about trivial things like proper delivery of an argument. "The south is fallen Loghain!" He called down to the Regent, sounding just the slightest hint tired and sad. "Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?"
"There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make it abundantly clear that the threat is all too real, and it isn't Orlesians that they're running from." Bann Alfstanna added from her place along the balcony, her shoulders slumped slightly with the weight of responsibility.
"The Blight is indeed real." Loghain replied in all seriousness, his bluster gone. In that moment, he was one of them, facing their same problems, not the man who was systematically trying to pull the Bannorn under heel by pure force. "But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it?" His tone took a decisive turn for the conspirator, getting back on his wagon after the brief derailment from the thrust of his argument. "They claim that they alone can end the Blight! Yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of Chevaliers! And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to return from whence they came?"
"Why is it always the Orlesians with this knot head?" Theron hissed to Alistair in just a loud enough voice that others around him could easily hear.
Alistair shrugged and pulled an envelope from the side of his breastplate, holding it up slightly so that others could see. "The Wardens at Ostagar requested more Wardens, not Chevaliers, specifically. Maybe your time would have been better spent minding your civil war here rather than checking the borders for phantom cavalry. Wars get expensive." He flicked the envelop in his hand once, showing the waxed seal to those nearest him, his tone somber. "But I guess you found a way to pay for that, didn't you? Blood money, bought with the lives of innocents sold into slavery." A collective gasp went up around the room as those who had seen the rampant wyvern on the envelope whispered it to their neighbors and suddenly the whole room understood exactly what the accusation was. Alistair did not look in the least pleased to have to bring this bit of evidence forward, the whole business of slavery clearly distasteful to him.
Aedan glanced sideways at Fergus and saw his brother nod with the faintest twitch of a smile. Now he knew whose idea it was to have Alistair take over the debate, and to much better effect than having the hotheaded Theron try and take charge. The Dale clearly had no tact for human politics.
"What is this?" An enraged Bann Sighard shouted above the murmuring, silencing the crowd immediately. "There is no slavery in Ferelden! Explain yourself!" At the back of the room, the small knot of elves that were going unnoticed by the greater majority of the crowd looked like they wanted answers too.
"There is no saving the Alienage." Loghain declared with no small amount of what seemed to be remorse. "Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes." Whispers among the crowd broke out, the general consensus seeming to be that they had heard those rumors as well. In the back of the room, Kallian's face went almost as red as her hair, an indignant look of rage settling over her features. "It is not a place I would send my worse enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here." With a deep breath Loghain turned back to face Alistair and Theron, his gaze settling on the bastard prince. "Despite what you may think Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves. I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."
Alistair frowned at that, glancing up to the balcony first at Eamon then Fergus, who gave a nod of encouragement. Theron silently offered moral support, knowing better than to blow his lid now when they were making some headway. He'd been cautioned multiple times to not speak unless it was absolutely necessary.
"The good of Ferelden." Alistair repeated, his frown still very much in evidence. "Right." He leaned back slightly, his sarcastic drawl coming out almost without thought, his natural armor in situations where he was unsure of himself. "So let me get this straight. For the good of Ferelden, you sold the Alienage's elves into slavery, and also decided that it would be a great idea to go ahead and let good old Howe to have his way with the people of Denerim? That was your brilliant idea?"
"Howe took my only son!" Sighard shouted; his voice wracked with grief as he took up the banner with aplomb, clearly distressed. "The things done to him-!" He choked on his words, leaning against the railing for support while he collected himself. "The things done to him… some are beyond any healer's skill." The Bann's grief filled gaze met the majority of those others in the room, but Loghain would not meet the man's eyes, instead waving off the argument as if it were nothing of particular consequence.
"Howe was a grown man accountable for his own actions." The sidestep to absolve himself of the guilt that came along with his part in the matter was sensed by everyone in the room, and the tension ratcheted up a notch. "His murderers have seen to it that he went to meet the Maker to answer for his crimes." The accusation did not go unnoticed, but neither Fergus nor Aedan flinched from the glare that they suddenly found themselves on the end of from the Regent. "But enough of this. I have a question for you, Warden: What have you done with my daughter?"
"Your daughter?" Alistair and Theron exchanged a confused look, both glancing up to the empty thrones at the same time. "Nothing." Alistair replied after an awkward moment, seeming perplexed that she wasn't up on her podium.
"Just protected her from your foolishness." Theron grumbled angrily, crossing his arms over his chest.
Loghain was undeterred by their responses, the gathered nobility hanging on every word of their heated exchange. "You took my daughter- our queen- by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?" The Wardens had no answer, but they hardly needed one as the answer decided to provide herself to the room.
"I believe I can speak for myself." Another gasp went up as yet another intruder made herself known, all eyes drawn to Anora as she stepped forward looking as prim and proper as always. Gathering herself, she walked into the center of the room, her very presence settling like a great weight over everyone gathered. "Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, hear me. This Warden has slandered and defamed Ferelden's greatest hero in a bid to put an imposter on Maric's throne." Again the Landsmeet dissolved into chaos, boos and cries of dismay echoing from all around the chambered halls.
The chaos was so great that nobody heard Theron's own enraged denial of the accusation.
"Oh, and she turned on us. What a shock: She seemed like such a nice despot." Alistair quipped, his tone heavily sarcastic and vaguely bored. Theron only shot the man a glare over his shoulder, though not one that bore the man sincere ill will on his person.
"It has become clear to me, Warden-" The nobility quieted down when Anora spoke next, the woman lifting her chin defiantly as she addressed Theron. "-that the true threat to this nation is you. I offered you the chance to ally with me for the good of this nation, and you refused it. I will not allow you to destroy the throne Cailan and I have held."
"Who here can say that Anora is not fit to rule this land?" It was Loghain's turn to add his dribble to the mess, the man pacing in front of the dais upon which Anora stood, so much like a guard dog that Theron was surprised when he didn't growl and bark at them all. "And who can say that this Alistair is? We know nothing of him save that he may have royal blood. For five years Anora has been queen, and proven herself worthy of the Theirin name. She can lead our people through this crisis, and I can lead her armies." He made a broad gesture to where Anora stood, proud and alone, stepping aside slightly for all to see before throwing his arms wide to encompass all of the Landsmeet. "My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself!"
All eyes went to the banns gathered above for the vote to be cast. Fergus leaned forward slightly, his palms resting on the railing. "Highever will dedicate its arms to the Wardens."
Encouraged by someone else speaking first, others began to step forward, vowing their votes to the Wardens as well. Secretly, Aedan was impressed with the turn out for their cause. He'd known that his brother, the Wardens and Eamon had been pulling every string that they could get their hand on to get this sort of turn out, but to actually see their efforts come to fruition was an entirely different sort of satisfaction. At his side Solona squeezed his arm gently and he shot her a small smile of reassurance. Among the votes for the Warden's cause a single man spoke against them, leaving a wake of silence at the declaration, but in the end the single vote against the Wardens was outweighed by the rest of the council. Not even Anora's support of her father could outweigh the almost unanimous vote in favor of the Wardens.
"The Landsmeet has turned against you, Loghain." Eamon called out once all the Banns and Arls accounted for had spoken their piece of the argument. The vote was tallied quickly; everyone had been keeping a mental checklist. "Step down gracefully, and let us turn to the matter of defeating the Blight."
Loghain had no intention of stepping down gracefully. His face twisted into a mask of rage, his eyes lifting to the gathered nobility who stood in the balcony. "Traitors!" He yelled at them, his gaze unsettling everyone it landed on. "Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once Eamon!" He turned his full rage at the Arl, the disbelief and disappointment at what to him was an obvious betrayal clearly expressed in his voice. "You cared about this land once, before you got too old and fat, and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here." His ire was suddenly turned on the Landsmeet as a whole, his enraged pacing clearly unnerving those in the front rows, who stood back. Theron and Alistair stood their ground, unflinching from Loghain's unbridled rage. "None of you have spilled blood for this country the way I have! How dare you judge me!"
"If it's a fight you want, then you'll get one." Theron warned, his hands falling to the hilts of his weapons.
"The Landsmeet is ours. It's a bit pointless attacking now, isn't it?" Alistair asked sardonically, his posture relaxed though anyone that knew the Warden knew that he could have his weapon out in the blink of an eye. He didn't survive the Deep Roads by being unskilled with his arms.
"Then let us end this." Loghain sounded tired, but his shoulders were still thrown back proudly, despite the weight of his armor. "I suppose I knew it would come to this. A man is made by the quality of his enemies…" He settled an appraising glance on Alistair for a moment. "Maric told me that once. I wonder who it's more of a compliment to?" He shook his head then turned his hawk-like gaze up at the gathered banns, singling out Alfstanna from the gathered crowd. "Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."
Without missing a beat the female bann came up to the railing and settled her hands on the well-worn wood, leaning forward. "It shall be fought according to tradition. A test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled," she gestured to the crowd at large, "will abide by the outcome."
"So, which of you will it be?" Loghain asked, appraising the two men with a surprising amount of sincerity.
Theron looked over the huge plated human and glanced to Alistair. "I suppose you want to take a crack at his rot-wooded head, eh?"
Alistair snorted, trying to play off the suggestion casually but Theron knew that behind the absent smile, Alistair wanted nothing more than to have a go at Loghain. It had been a long time in coming. "I think I could do that." He looked up to Alfstanna, suddenly seeming to go shy when he realized that he would have to address someone again. "I'll fight my own battle, thanks."
Loghain flicked his gaze to meet to determined one of Alistair, nothing but contempt in his eyes. "Then let us test the mettle of our would-be king. Prepare yourself." With a huff he turned, walking opposite of Alistair and retrieved his weapon and shield from a man at arms standing close by. The crowd parted immediately, making a wide ring and pressing backwards from what was to be the fighting ground.
"Keep on your toes." Theron mumbled, clapping Alistair on the shoulder and giving him a quick shake. "Don't make a fool of yourself here when we've finally got done with all these damned tasks. The Creators only know what sort of hell I'll have to go through if I have to do this all over again."
"Theron is that… concern for me?" Alistair asked with a grin, drawing his blade and slipping his shield onto his arm, shrugging into the familiar grip of it. "I'm touched, really, I am."
The Dale snorted "Make the Wardens proud." He muttered just loud enough for Alistair to hear and joined the ring of spectators that were quickly forming around the two combatants, crossing his arms over his chest.
Alistair's brief chuckle was obviously forced, but the serious scowl that quickly took over was certainly not. He swung his sword experimentally, loosening his shoulders and wrist.
"Let's get on with it then." Loghain growled and wasted no time in tapping off a quick strike on Alistair to test the younger man's resolve.
If he expected the Warden to cave at the start of the fight then he was dead wrong. Alistair answered the challenge with a powerful blow of his own that had Loghain retreating behind the defense of his shield and from there easily turned aside the blow. There was no pause in his movement when Alistair's blade slid off the crest of Loghain's shield without resistance and snapped his elbow back close to his body, exploding forward with a powerful jab towards Loghain's belly. The scream of clashing metal echoed through the high beams of the Landsmeet hall along with the startled gasp of those in attendance.
The move may have felled a hundred darkspawn, but Alistair was not fighting a mindless foot soldier of the horse. This was the hero of River Dane, and he knew how to handle himself in battle. The sword only glanced a blow along the solid plate steel of Loghain's side, leaving Alistair vulnerable to a counter attack since his own had not been a fatal blow.
Even as he started to retreat to a safer stance, Alistair found himself wildly ducking under his shield to keep from being beheaded by Loghain's answering slice, the blade keening as it sheared off a razor thin layer of Alistair's shield in a shower of sparks. Loghain's shield came up, clattering Alistair's sword against his chest, totally defeating the hastily erected defense that Alistair had tried to pull together against Loghain's retaliation. With his own sword pressed flat against his chest Alistair was forced to stagger backward off balance. Loghain pressed his momentary advantage and thrust his shield forward in a bash, nearly knocking Alistair off his feet entirely under the assault.
Loghain's forward charge pressed Alistair back, barely managing to keep his feet and steadily beat a hasty retreat toward the ring of spectators who shrank back quickly from the fight as it came closer than what was comfortable. Theron did not budge from his spot.
"You did better at the Provings!" He shouted when Alistair nearly lost his head a second time, Loghain's blade blocked in the last second by Alistair's answering parry. "Shape up!"
The reprimand was apparently enough to galvanize Alistair into action. His stance changed, his sword held low, and Loghain's next strike did not meet steel. Alistair deftly moved aside out of range if the blow and retreated sideways instead of backward, working around his opponent instead of away from him. At the side of the ring, Theron's lips twitched up in a smile when Loghain suddenly found the younger warrior flanking his left side, their shields in a tight lock and his back left completely open to Alistair's next strike.
Loghain saved himself from the fatal blow by twisting around, using his greater strength to throw Alistair's shield off, breaking the lock, but the damage was done. First blood had been drawn.
The Landsmeet went wild with cheering and booing in turns as the combatants waged war across the floor, the ring of steel knelling powerfully over the din. It quickly became apparent to all that Loghain had the upper hand in strength and experience, weaving his way through the battle with the fluid motions of one long versed in combat. Alistair was not his match, not directly, but he kept his older opponent working, forcing Loghain to work twice as hard to land a hit than he needed to. They were quickly tiring, but Loghain was slipping.
A gasp left the crowd when Alistair made his move, disarming Loghain cleanly with a sweep of his blade and sent the weapon clattering away, sliding to a stop at Theron's feet. Loghain tried a last ditch effort at crumpling Alistair's defense, but to no avail. His shield missed the target completely and allowed Alistair to slip around his defense and strike Loghain between the shoulders with a powerful pommel strike, sending the Regent down on one knee.
"I… must yield." Loghain gasped, heaving with weariness. Alistair keeping his sword leveled at the man's neck as he walked to stand in front of him. "It seems there is some of Maric in you after all, boy." There was some new level of appraisement in his eyes, not quite respect, but as if he had seen Alistair for the first time.
"This was never about Maric." Alistair replied bitterly, adjusting the grip on his sword, his fist tightening and his expression grim. A tendon jumped in his jaw, clenching hard as he stood in front of Loghain. "This- this is for Duncan!" Without warning or so much as a glance to any of those gathered, Alistair closed the short distance to the kneeling Regent with an enraged battle cry, his sword held high.
The second before the blade touched his neck Loghain shifted his glance from his executioner to his daughter, her blue eyes wide with horror. In that infinite second he smiled for her.