(poison1234: As it so happens, I do have several projects in the works already. :) )

129. Brothers and Sisters

Riordan wasn't sure what to make of the new recruits.

When he'd first been released, he'd been impressed, though not without reservations. On the one hand, they had been able to break into and then out of a hostile, heavily guarded estate. On the other hand, doing so was against the self-sacrificial philosophy of the Wardens. Then again, Riordan still had difficulty processing the hostility that the Fereldans were showing to their ancient order.

Only the dwarf had returned from the Howe estate that day, and he had immediately thrown himself into the task into freeing his comrades from imprisonment. Thus, Riordan had been forced to watch him from afar. The young man was certainly competent, as could be expected if Duncan had been doing the recruiting... but certain things about the way the dwarf acted made Riordan hesitant to approach him with his suspicions about the recruits' lack of education.

And so, he busied himself with other things. He discussed the details of the civil war with Arl Eamon. He caught up with Fergus Cousland, who remembered him a bit from Highever, and they spent a long evening telling one another stories about his parents. He asked around for details about the Blight—where the darkspawn had hit, where they were moving, whether the archdemon had actually been seen—but news outside the city walls proved sketchy at best, and prone to fearful exaggeration at worst.

Finally, three days in, the kindly healer, Wynne, left for an afternoon and returned with none other but the infamous chantry scholar, Brother Genitivi, following. The scholar presented Riordan with a very large, bound-and-looseleaf book, declaring it to be notes borrowed from one of the Warden recruits. The pair of them spent most of the afternoon deciphering the myriad maps and entries, and only managed to skim the surface of the information bound within.

The scholar was kind enough to leave the book with Riordan, claiming that he had learned all he would from it without discussing it with its true owner. After some time studying it, Riordan admitted that he shared the sentiment.

Garott Brosca left and returned, bringing the two other recruits Riordan had met with him. The elf was best left to heal, but the younger Cousland sought him out.

It had been a tiring conversation, young Percival recounting in bitter detail what, exactly, had happened at Ostagar, and what they'd accomplished since then. They had discussed the merits of sending to Weisshaupt for more Wardens or using their allies now. Riordan had revealed the existence of Duncan's stash, and Percival had described what they'd found upon returning to Ostagar.

Overall, an informative conversation, but exhausting.

The elf, Finian Tabris, was up and moving around with aid some days later. He, however, was more interested on whatever Eamon and the queen were planning than what Riordan had to say. Riordan left the elf alone for the most part; it was fairly apparent that Percival was the one calling the majority of the shots, anyway.

And so, he found himself in the library the day before the Landsmeet with Percival and his hound, the pair of Wardens positing ways to draw the archdemon to a tactically beneficial position once it was spotted. Riordan was discussing the possible ways to ground it when a servant popped her head in and announced that the other Wardens had been spotted entering the city.

Percival immediately abandoned their discussion, tearing off for the front hall with his dog at his heels. Riordan followed at a calmer pace, entering the main hall to the gathering household. It appeared that word was spreading throughout the estate.

Percival was already waiting up front with Eamon and Bann Teagan. Brosca stood back with his companions—the other dwarf, the Qunari, and the apostate—and was joined shortly by Wynne and the elves. Anora and Fergus entered behind Riordan and took a portion of wall near him, and he could hear them deep in discussion about Highever. Riordan cocked a curious ear—it had been his home at one point, after all.

They were discussing plans for Fergus to resume the estate, it seemed. Young Lord Cousland looked tired about the entire thing, but they both seemed committed to the importance of seeing a Cousland sitting back in the teyrnship after the death of Rendon Howe.

All conversations were cut short as the front doors opened and a small party, led by a tall, blond man, stepped briskly through. The blond man's steps skipped a beat as he took in the large audience waiting for him, but then a sideways smile appeared on his face, and he planted himself in front of Eamon with a semi-sarcastic salute.

The four behind him weren't quite as upbeat. The robed woman at his shoulder cast sharp, curious eyes around the assembled household. A pair of archers stood behind them—which Riordan was glad to see, as that may be the only way to bring the archdemon to the ground. The human archer smiled to the assembly, but the Dalish archer's visage was hard and guarded. Trailing behind them was another Dalish: small and robed, and with his gaze firmly trained on the floor.

Eamon's face broke into a broad smile. "Alistair. You're just in time."

"You know me. I didn't want to miss all the fun political stuff. Woo hoo."

The other Wardens quirked smiles at that, including Percy.

Teagan, however, was frowning as he scanned the party. "Alistair, where's Jowan?"

Eamon's face fell, and his brow furrowed as he, too, scanned the group.

"He... um," Alistair said. "...didn't make it."

Teagan frowned, stepping down from the dais. His eyes locked on the robed elf in back, and he scowled. "It was you, wasn't it? You let him escape!"

Riordan didn't miss the twin reactions from the elf: a flinch and the clench of a fist, but the elf didn't look up.

The bann took another step toward him, but the reaction among the newcomers stopped him: they moved to block his encroachment, protecting their comrade. Riordan fought a smile at the evidence of solidarity.

Alistair stepped smoothly in front of Teagan, his face hard. "Kazar didn't do anything like that. Lay off."

Riordan couldn't help but notice a few raised eyebrows at that... and Wynne seemed to be biting back a smile.

Teagan appeared to be taken aback. He glanced up at Eamon, who said, "Alistair, perhaps you'd better explain, then."

"He's dead." That was the accused elf, Kazar. His voice was soft and cracked. "I killed him."

"Da'lethallin," the other Dalish said firmly.

Kazar shook his head, gaze still trained on the floor, but Riordan could see his knuckles turning white even from afar. "I have to go... out." He spun on his heel and, keeping his face hidden from the assembled audience, made for the nearest side door. As soon as he left, Brosca broke off from the wall and slid out after him.

Alistair was now regarding Eamon sternly, his arms still crossed. "That was unnecessary."

"He's clean, then?" Eamon asked, equally stern.

There was a brief hesitation while he and the robed woman shared a glance.

"Alistair..."

"He's clean," Alistair said. "You know I wouldn't have brought him back if he wasn't."

Eamon pursed his lips. Percival stepped forward. "It's good to have you all back, then."

Alistair's grin cracked again. "Well, look at you, all diplomatic."

"You certainly aren't going to be," Percival deadpanned, and Alistair laughed.

"True, true. So... what's with the welcoming committee?" Alistair waved his arms to encompass the hall. "Who are all these people?"

"Zev, he doesn't remember us," Finian said in a stage whisper to the Antivan. "Do you think he's a spy in disguise?"

"Doubtful, amor," Zevran returned. "I doubt even the best bard in Orlais could replicate that lollygag hangdog look of his."

"Hey!"

"That is very true," giggled the human archer, who, Riordan couldn't help but notice, sported an Orlesian accent. A cursory glance revealed a lute strapped to her back, and Riordan made a mental note to watch her for actual hints of espionage. He had spent the last decades in Orlais, after all.

Percival cleared his throat, and the Wardens and companions settled down. Riordan nodded to himself, confident now in his assessment of young Cousland as the emergent leader, here. "You no doubt know Eamon's household, Alistair. Other present parties include Her Majesty Queen Anora, my brother Fergus, and Riordan, a Warden sent from Orlais."

Riordan bowed a greeting as his name was listed, only to look up and find the robed woman studying him with intent. He gave her a gentle smile, and she pressed her lips together.

"Your brother?" The Orlesian bard said. "How wonderful!"

Percival nodded stiffly, and Fergus could be seen shifting uncomfortably.

Alistair, meanwhile, stared at Anora as one would a poisonous asp. She met his gaze steadily, and that only seemed to make the man balk more. Finally, he broke his gaze away and turned to address the bard behind him. "Hey, Leliana, let's go do that thing now."

"Alistair..." Eamon said warningly.

"Just a couple more hours, Eamon, I promise. There's just a few heads we need to bash in while we're in town."

Teagan was rubbing his head. "And you don't think that may be bad for our image the day before the Landsmeet?"

"Can't be worse than killing Howe in his own home," Finian said with a shrug. He started to step toward them, but Zevran pulled him back. "I'm fine," the elf protested.

"Mm hm." The Antivan deftly prodded a thumb into Finian's side, and the elven Warden doubled over. "You will stay here and rest. I will help them take care of it."

Zevran moved to join the archers, both of whom were turning to head back out.

"Finally, some action," Oghren grumbled, hurrying to follow them.

The witch peeled out of the shadows. "I do get weary of this place," she agreed.

The five of them headed to the back of the hall, but waited by the door for Alistair. He was stopped by the robed woman whispering a few words to him. She motioned once to Riordan, and he nodded with an indulgent smile. Then, ignoring the protests of Eamon and Teagan, he turned and left, taking the companions with him.

Once the door closed behind him, Eamon dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. "I'd forgotten how vexing he could be."

"You were certainly correct, though," Anora said thoughtfully. "He looks exactly like Cailan."

"Just don't expect him to handle like him, your majesty," Finian said. He had recovered from the rough handling, and now leaned back against the wall with a thoughtful smile. "I'm sure Felicity could give you some pointers."

The human woman's dark face flushed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Finian."

The elf sniggered, and Eamon frowned at the implication, but let it be. The woman, Felicity, swept past him anyway, heading straight for Riordan. He gave her a friendly smile as she stopped before him.

"You are a Warden from Orlais?"

"I was stationed in Orlais, yes. Originally, I am from Ferelden."

She nodded to acknowledge the statement, but breezed on. "Will more forces be coming?"

"I am afraid not at this time. I was a scout who was captured until very recently. If I sent for more now, it would be far too late, for they would not arrive in time."

Again, a brisk nod acknowledged the news. "I have an urgent question for you, then."

"Oh? I am at your disposal, sister."

She blinked at the address, then glanced around. "It is perhaps best if we discuss it in private."

"I understand. Come, then." Riordan motioned for her to for her to follow and took a could steps toward the hallway he'd come from. He noted a brief exchange between her and Percival, wherein he moved to follow, and she stopped him with a shake of her head. Interesting.

He led her back toward the library, which was all but deserted. As he stopped over the table he'd been working on, Felicity paused in surprise. "My codex!"

"Ah, you are the Warden who kept these notes, then?" She nodded. "I have to say, I'm impressed. Not many could have discerned this much detail in a life-or-death situation."

She shrugged uncomfortably. "If I do not record such things, who will? It's our best way of helping future generations."

"Of that, I agree." He settled to lean against the table, and she idly flipped through Riordan's own notes on the other side. "Now, what was your question?"

"Oh, of course." She dropped the notes and looked up to regard him sternly. She had very expressive, observant eyes. Riordan could easily see the intelligence and drive that had made her create this book. "How are we to kill the archdemon?"

He nodded to himself, because that confirmed his long-held suspicions that the Wardens hadn't been told the true nature of their connection with the darkspawn. He supposed that it was to be expected with the new recruits; most of the ones who would teach them had died the day after their Joining, by Percival's account. But Alistair... he should have perhaps been told. It was a fault of Duncan's... brash in some things, but very, very cautious in others.

"I take it," he said carefully, "that this is no idle curiosity?"

She shook her head and sighed. "We... just came back from the Deep Roads. We'd previously encountered the archdemon there, in the Dead Trenches."

"Yes, I do recall reading that."

"Well, one of our mages, Kazar, attempted to head back there and kill it." Riordan raised a brow at that, but she shook her head, denying further explanation, and moved on. "He veritably caved the entire cavern in on it. Physically, it should not have been capable of withstanding the weight; any simple dragon would surely have been crushed. And yet, it did, so much so that it was able to break out of the crush and fly away. How is it that it survived?"

Riordan hummed thoughtfully, because he could see the lack of knowledge where her confusion stemmed. "Let me guess this: were there other darkspawn around?"

"Oh yes. Thousands."

"Nearer than the mage was? Or any of you?"

"We were on top of a tall trench. The archdemon and a veritable army were at the bottom when he caved it in."

Both Riordan's brows went up. "He caved it in upon a horde? It may not have killed the archdemon, but that will certainly have brought down their numbers substantially."

"But how? How did it not kill the archdemon?"

Riordan sighed, and kept his voice low, in case of eavesdroppers. "I would suspect that one of the darkspawn at the bottom of the trench survived. It would only take one."

She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"There is something that it seems Duncan did not tell you about the nature of the Grey Wardens, sister. It is not a happy truth, but it is a necessary one."

"I can handle it."

"That, I do not doubt." He tapped the codex thoughtfully. "Do you know why the Grey Wardens are necessary to defeat the darkspawn?"

"Because we can sense their presence, correct? Because of the Taint in our blood?"

"Yes and no. While it's true that the Taint in our veins makes us suited for finding pockets of darkspawn, there is a greater reason for it when it comes to the archdemon."

"You're saying the Taint is necessary to destroy it?"

"Yes." And then, he leaned forward and told her, voice barely above a whisper, and watched her eyes get wider and wider.

She had questions, of course. About the mechanics of it. About whether any Tainted thing could absorb the archdemon like that. Even about how this property had been discovered in the first place, during the First Blight.

Riordan answered the questions as best he could, all in whispers, and admitted that, as the oldest Warden present, he would traditionally be the one chosen to make that final blow. She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly, seeing the logic in it more than the self-sacrifice.

By the time they were done, it was nearing dinner, but neither of them had much appetite. And, as Grey Wardens, that was saying something.