A/N: So only one day late, since my days off got switched around and I got today off instead off yesterday. Anyway, hope you enjoy, we finally get to Orzammar by the end of the chapter. And of course, the next few chapters will be all to do with Orzammar. I realize my last chapter may have sounded like Wynne-bashing, but it wasn't! It will all become clear in this chapter :). There is some smut at the beginning of this chapter, starting right after their dialogue finishes, so skip ahead to the break in the chapter if you'd rather not read it!
As always, thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and read the story so far - I'm glad everyone is liking it!
Special thanks go to my reviewers from last chapter: Valtharia, This is not a Fanfiction, cas.92, Ioialoha, Angelic Aramina, and Barleyguy. I love hearing from you guys, please continue to let me know what you think!
100th reviewer gets a gift fic, see Chapter 30 A/N for details. Please review everyone!
And of course I don't own Dragon Age, etc. just the rest of this fic. Enjoy!
Chapter 32: Orzammar
She was feeling a great deal better today than she had been last night. Right now, she was feeling supremely comfortable as she was curled into bed next to Alistair, both of them sweaty and spent from their most recent bout of lovemaking that morning. They were, as planned, spending the day together in her room before leaving for Orzammar.
They had made an appearance at breakfast this morning, then made sure that no one would be looking for them. Ayla had told everyone that she was going hunting with Morrigan, and Alistair had told everyone he and Aedan were going to scout for darkspawn. Morrigan and Aedan apparently had similar plans and had been all too willing to provide alibis for all four of them to disappear for the day. After pretending to leave, Ayla and Alistair had carefully snuck back into her room, deciding that there was less chance anyone would come upon them there.
So far, the plan had gone off without a hitch, and they had spent the last few hours wrapped up in each other and their own little world. Ayla had to admit she was enjoying it thoroughly.
"Mmm," she stretched languidly against Alistair's side before snuggling back next to him, laying her head on his shoulder and flopping her arm across his chest. "This was an excellent idea. I could stay here forever."
He tightened his arm around her waist, smiling down at her as he gently brushed some hair back from her face. "Me too. If only we could stay like this forever, but someone would come find us eventually."
"Yes, everyone does seem determined to interrupt or otherwise spoil our time together," Ayla replied, sighing as she thought of the events of last night. She had suspected the Arl would not approve of her relationship with Alistair, but it had still hurt to hear it. And then to have Wynne think the same of her; both had been a hard blow, even if Alistair's opinion did not match theirs.
"You know," Alistair began carefully, "we never did talk about what happened with Wynne. What were you two arguing about before I found you?"
So she told him the whole conversation, as closely as she could remember it. He remained silent throughout her recital, and she finally concluded with, "I just couldn't believe she would accuse me of such things. Implying that I am carrying on with Zevran behind your back! Which I am not," she added hastily, peeking up at him, suddenly afraid. What if Wynne's suspicions made him have doubts of his own?
But when she met his gaze, there was nothing but trust in his eyes as he squeezed her gently. "I know you aren't. I know I . . . get jealous of him sometimes, but it's not because I think there's anything going on between you two. I just . . . can't seem to help my reaction when he flirts with you." He shrugged. "But I trust you. And anyway, you wouldn't have the time or the energy to be carrying on with him too." He grinned down at her.
"Oh really?" She couldn't help the answering smile that spread across her face as she poked his chest. "You certainly think highly of your abilities, good ser. Think you have me all worn out, do you?"
"Well, I certainly am trying my level best," he said teasingly. "Are you saying you have the energy to go again right now?"
"Of course I do," she replied haughtily, struggling to keep a straight face. As he watched her with sceptically raised eyebrows, she eventually broke down and laughed. "If you give me a few more minutes, anyway."
He smirked triumphantly, making her roll her eyes in response. "That's what I thought." His face sobered as he went on hesitantly, "About Wynne, though . . ."
"What about her?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well, you said that she judged you without getting to know you. And it's true, she did, but . . ." He rolled his shoulders, looking uncomfortable, before continuing, "you didn't really give her a chance to get to know you, either. I mean, I've never seen you try to talk to her or anything. How is she supposed to know anything about you if you won't let her?"
"I . . ." Ayla paused, staring at him as she thought about it. Part of her wanted to be annoyed with him for not completely taking her side, but as she thought about it, she started to realize he had a point. She'd had a feeling that Wynne didn't like her, but she'd never tried to correct the situation.
She realized she'd made judgments of her own. Most of the elderly women she'd met in her life had been noblewomen, none of whom had thought much of her. She'd attempted to talk to them at first, tried to get them to change their opinions, but it had never worked. They had been happy to view her as a lesser being, a dangerous shifter.
Eventually, she had stopped trying and started avoiding them instead, unable to take their barbs and veiled insults. So when she'd seen Wynne and felt that the mage might not approve of her, she had assumed that it would be the same. That Wynne would be just like those women, and not care about who she really was, so she'd never bothered to try to change her opinion. She'd avoided talking to her, but she should have known better. Travelling together as much as they were, it was inevitable they would have to have an actual conversation some time; running away wouldn't solve anything.
"All right, you have a point," she conceded grudgingly. "She made snap judgments about me, but I did the same to her. I assumed she would be too close-minded to change her opinion of me, so I didn't bother trying."
"Well, you should," he told her, looking relieved. Probably because she hadn't gotten angry at him, she reflected. "Talk to her, let her get to know you. If you give it a chance, I know she'll like you. And yes, she might give people advice they don't ask for, but she really is a great person once you get to know her. She means well."
Ayla thought back over the conversation she'd had with Wynne, trying to look at it from a logical point of view rather than emotionally. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Wynne had brought the whole thing up because she'd been concerned about Alistair. She might not agree with Wynne's methods, but her heart had been in the right place. And although she didn't like the assumptions Wynne had made about her, she could see how it must have looked to the mage, especially after that dance with Zevran.
"Yes, now that I think about it more, she was just worried about you. I suppose I can't blame her for that, and my friendship with Zevran probably did look suspicious from her point of view," she admitted. She let out a breath, before nodding at Alistair. "All right, I'll talk to her, and apologize for my part in it. Just for you."
He grinned widely at her, rewarding her with a quick kiss. "Have I told you that I love you?"
"Hmm," she pretended to think about it, struggling not to smile. "I think you might have mentioned it, once or twice."
"I did?" he said, feigning surprise. "Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"
She laughed. "No, I suppose it won't." She kissed him slowly, sweetly, pulling back to murmur, "I love you too."
And she really did. As much as she never thought she would feel this way, and as much as it was against her better judgment, she couldn't help but love him with everything she had, and she wanted to do something to show him how much. She sealed her lips to his again before he could say whatever it was he'd been about to, kissing him thoroughly, trying to convey her love for him without words, until he moaned beneath her.
Only then did she pull her mouth away, trailing it down to his jaw, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses all the way up to his ear. She sucked slowly on his ear lobe before moving to his neck. For once she didn't use her teeth, merely kissing and gently sucking, moving her way down to his chest, paying special attention to the bruises she'd gifted him with earlier. She could feel his heart rate picking up and suddenly his hands swept down to grasp her bottom, squeezing hard.
Before he could scoop her up like she knew he planned to, she pressed her hand to his chest and lifted her head, shaking it at him. "No."
He paused, looking at her, his eyes dark and dazed. "What do you mean, no?"
She cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb over his bottom lip. "I want to go slow, this time. Let's not rush it, okay?"
He blinked, obviously confused. "But – I thought – you said you liked it when . . . things were rough. You know - faster and . . . harder." He was flushing red, and she found it both endearing and amusing that he still had so much trouble talking about their lovemaking when he had no trouble doing it.
She smiled, nodding slowly. "I do, but we have already done that a few times this morning. So I thought we could take our time for once. Especially since . . . everyone seems to want to end our time together."
He sucked in a breath, his expression suddenly pained as his hands swooped back up to cradle her face. "Ayla . . . no one is going to end our time together. We won't let them – I won't let them, I promise you that. All right?"
He sounded so firm, so assured, that her heart swelled and flooded with warmth. And his sudden air of confidence was most certainly attractive. "All right," she agreed. "We won't let them. But still . . ."
"You want to take it slow," he finished for her. She nodded. "Your wish is my command, then." He dropped his hands back to his sides, looking up at her expectantly.
"You can still touch me," she told him gently, swinging her leg over his hips to straddle him, planting her hands on either side of his head. "Just . . . don't rush me."
She leaned over him, lowering her head back to his collarbone, smiling in pleasure when she felt his rough, calloused hands run gently along her back, rubbing slow circles there, sweeping over her skin. She continued along his chest, kissing slowly, sucking gently, moving back and forth as she made her way down his body. She trailed her hands lightly along his skin every so often, sometimes scraping feather-light with her nails.
In spite of – or perhaps because of – the torturously slow pace she was employing on him, he was breathing more rapidly, his chest rising and falling quickly underneath her mouth. She could feel him struggling to hold himself back, to keep his hands on her body gentle and slow. When she rocked her hips lightly against his, he surged against her, and she could feel him hardening in answer.
She slid her hands tantalizingly close to his erection, and when his breath hitched, she smiled slyly and reversed direction, heading back up his torso. He was staring at her wide-eyed, heat blazing in the depths of his gaze as she claimed his mouth again, coaxing a response from him, soothing him with gentle hands when his mouth grew desperate beneath hers.
When she pulled away from him and sucked on his neck again, he groaned. "You really are going to kill me."
She peeked up at him, grinning. "It wouldn't be such a bad way to die, would it?"
"I could not think of a better way to go." He slipped his hands between their bodies, running them up and over her breasts, kneading gently. When she leaned back to allow him better access, he rubbed his thumbs over her hardening nipples with slow, ghosting touches.
She gasped, feeling the ache building between her legs, suddenly unable to concentrate on what she'd been doing. He sat up slightly, his mouth closing over one nipple, sucking and flicking lightly back and forth with his tongue while his other hand continued to rub. "Is this payback?" she asked weakly, as the heat and pressure in her body increased with every touch of his hands and mouth.
He pulled back, grinning at her. "I don't know what you're talking about." His hands slid down her abdomen. Before he could reach his destination, she manoeuvred into position and lowered herself onto his length, letting him fill her. They both moaned when she was settled into place, his hands tightening on her waist, hers braced on his chest.
There was a part of her that wanted to forget what she'd just told him and ride him fast and hard, but she stubbornly ignored it. Instead, she began a slow rise and fall of her hips, almost letting him slip from her completely before she would roll her hips back down exquisitely slowly. He clutched her waist tightly enough to bruise, obviously struggling to keep from speeding her up.
But it was worth it, she decided, tipping her head back as she continued her steady pace. The slow burn building in her blood felt incredible, and she closed her eyes to savor the sensation. She was concentrating on it so much that she failed to notice his hand move until his fingers found her, rubbing feather-light over her achingly sensitive nub as she rode him.
Her eyes flew open. "Alistair," she gasped, staring down at him. She could feel the heat coiling low in her belly, her body starting to shake from the added touch of his fingers.
"Something you need, my love?" he grinned at her wickedly, his fingers keeping up their relentless slow, steady pressure.
"I –" she couldn't seem to think, could only feel her body winding tighter and her release building. "You. I only need you," she managed at last. She watched his eyes darken with lust, felt as he pressed down just that little bit harder and her body shattered around him, making her cry out.
Before she had quite recovered, he had somehow flipped them over and was thrusting in and out of her, long, slow strokes, keeping up the steady pace she had started. "You have me," he told her, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. "Always, remember?"
"Always," she agreed breathlessly, rising up to meet him, clutching him to her. She swallowed his cry into her mouth when he finally spilled within her, held him close when he collapsed on top of her, relishing briefly in the crushing weight of him before he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She wasn't going to let anyone end their time together. He was hers and she was his and that was the way it was going to stay.
"Now is as a good a time as any," Alistair pointed out. They were back on the road the next day, heading north to Orzammar, a journey which could take them as long as a month, according to Aedan. The day was a fine one, with the sun shining down on them out of the clear sky, although the air was cool, reminding them that winter was coming fast.
"I suppose you're right," Ayla replied reluctantly, looking ahead to where Wynne was walking by herself. She and Alistair were at the back of the group, Aedan, Morrigan and Striker at the head, with Wynne, Leliana, Sten, and Zevran walking at varying paces between. Though she had promised to apologize to Wynne, she didn't really have any enthusiasm for the task.
"You did promise," Alistair reminded her gently, nudging her arm. "And if I can promise to try to get along with Morrigan . . ."
"Okay, okay," Ayla groaned. "I'm going already, see?" She picked up her pace in order to catch up to Wynne, throwing a glare over her shoulder at Alistair, who merely smiled in return.
She cleared her throat when she drew up next to the elderly mage. "Wynne, might I have a moment?"
Wynne glanced over at her, surprise and what looked like sincere regret stamped on her face. "Yes, of course you can. I had actually meant to talk to you as well; I wanted to apologize for the other night."
Ayla was surprised and felt more than a little guilty as well; Alistair had been right. She had misjudged Wynne. "So did I, actually. Alistair has pointed out to me . . . that I may have been a little quick to judge you, also." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly before continuing, "I probably overreacted a little, too. I wasn't in the best of moods that night, and I'm afraid I may have taken it out on you. I should not have said the things that I did. So . . . I am sorry."
Wynne smiled at her warmly. "Apology accepted. I am sorry, also. I made comments that I should not have, as well. You were correct that I made assumptions about you without knowing whether or not they were true. I admit that your friendship with Morrigan," frowning ahead at the woman in question, "may have had a great deal to do with coloring my opinion of you."
Ayla grinned, knowing that both mages had an equally low opinion of each other. "You know, she's not as bad as you think she is, either."
Wynne scoffed in obvious disbelief. "I am afraid you will never be able to convince me of that. Regardless, I should not have judged you by the company you keep. I should have tried to get to know you myself."
Ayla nodded slowly. "Well, I probably would not have let you. I admit I was avoiding you, which probably did not help you think any better of me. I have never really . . . met an older woman I could respect or like. Only catty noblewomen who hated me. I assumed you would be the same as them, and thought it easier to avoid you. That was my fault."
Wynne chuckled. "Well, there is one thing I am most certainly not, and that is a noblewoman. And I would like to believe I am not catty, either." The mage paused, walking along for a moment in silence before continuing, "Shall we start over, then? Wipe the slate clean between us, and try to get off on the right foot?"
"I'd like that," Ayla agreed. But there was still one other thing to clear up, first. "About Zevran . . . I can see how my friendship with him looked suspicious, but I assure you that there truly is nothing going on between us."
Wynne sighed. "I realize that. Honestly, I had nothing solid to base my suspicions on; it was merely that you did not dismiss him out of hand when he flirted with you, as most would do. And well, the dance when Alistair was not around worried me, I admit, but there was nothing untoward about it."
"It was just a dance between friends. I had wanted something to distract me," Ayla replied softly. "The Arl was in the process of telling Alistair how I am not suitable for him; I needed to keep my mind off of it."
"Oh," Wynne raised her eyebrows, regret passing over her features once more. "So the timing of my advice was rather poor, then." The mage hesitated. "That being said, although I apologize for my assumptions, I do still think that this relationship may end up hurting both of you."
Ayla frowned, shaking her head. "You may be right about that, but I can assure you I've thought this through. I have decided that my regret for time lost if something happens would be more painful than simply losing him. So . . . we will have to agree to disagree, on that one."
"Fair enough," the mage conceded. "In the interest of getting to know one another, tell me a little more about yourself, then."
So Ayla told her a little about her time growing up in Fallor, her father and her brother and some stories about what Fallor was like. She did leave out a few things, such as the actual location of Fallor and the circumstances of her father's death, things too personal and painful to share just yet. In return, Wynne told her a few things about her time in the Circle.
Eventually, Aedan called a quick halt so that they could rest and have a bite to eat. Thanking Wynne for the talk, Ayla went to rejoin Alistair, but before she could make her way over to him, Zevran caught her arm. "Might I have a quick word, my dear?"
"Sure," Ayla replied, not missing the urgency in the elf's gaze. Whatever it was, he felt it was important. She looked over at Alistair, sending him a regretful glance and a mouthed 'later', and while he frowned briefly, he nodded in reply. She followed Zevran to a spot just out of earshot of the others. "What is it?"
Zevran dropped her arm, rubbing his hands together and looking slightly uncomfortable. "Ah . . . I am reluctant to tell you this, but I feel you should know." He drew a long breath before continuing, "The Arl approached me yesterday while you were . . . hunting." He gave her a wry look, obviously not believing her alibi one bit.
She shrugged and grinned in response, not bothering to excuse herself, before asking, "The Arl approached you? What about?" She couldn't imagine what Arl Eamon would want to talk to Zevran about, but she didn't think it could be anything good.
"He had heard of our dance together the other night," Zevran began slowly, "and he offered to . . . reward me if I agreed to get between you and Alistair."
"What?!" Ayla exclaimed, reeling back in shock. She didn't know what she had expected, but it was definitely not this. Hadn't the Arl come to an agreement with Alistair? Why couldn't he just leave them alone until the Landsmeet? "But . . . why?!"
Zevran frowned and shook his head. "He thought that if Alistair caught you and I in a compromising position together, it would be easier for him to . . . make a clean break, as it were. It would be simpler if he believed you did not love him, if he did not have to leave you just because he is becoming king and you are not suitable," he finished scornfully. "Or that is what the Arl said, in any event."
As much as it hurt to hear of the plan, Ayla did have to admit she saw the logic in it. It would be easier for Alistair to get over her if he could hate her than if he were forced to leave her against his will for duty's sake. That did not mean she had to like it, though, nor was she going to put up with it. "I take it you told the Arl no, then?" she asked softly.
Zevran snorted. "Of course I did, my dear. I told him it would not work, as you had already turned me down more than once, and it would not be worth my life to try it, either. I did not bother to explain to him that I would never take payment to hurt a friend in such a way; I doubt he would have believed that."
"Only because he doesn't know you, Zev," Ayla murmured, touched at his words, and annoyed with the Arl for thinking so little of all of them. "Did he not swear you to silence, then?"
Zevran grinned, eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. "Oh, to be sure, he demanded that I not tell Alistair of our discussion. He made no mention of not telling you, however. I played the part of the scorned lover quite well, I believe," he added. pressing a hand to his forehead dramatically.
Ayla grinned in spite of herself. "I'm sure you did."
"However," the elf continued, "just because I am unable to tell Alistair, it does not mean that you cannot."
Ayla shook her head. "No, I don't want Alistair to know, not yet. He cares for Arl Eamon; it would hurt him if he found out about this. There is no need for him to know unless the Arl tries something else."
"Are you sure about this, my dear?" Zevran asked softly, frowning. "It is up to you, of course, but . . ."
"I'm sure," she replied, determined not to come between Alistair and Arl Eamon unless she had to. The Arl was only doing what he thought was right for Alistair and his country, after all. If he pushed it any farther, however, she wouldn't hesitate to do what she thought was right, either. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for telling me, Zev. And thank you for being such a good friend."
"You are most welcome, Ayla." He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in turn. "After all, what are friends for?"
"To help, as I will help you if you ever should need it," she told him sincerely. "Or to listen, if you need someone to talk to," she added significantly. "About anything."
He smiled sadly, a faraway look in his eyes. "And perhaps I will take you up on that, one day. Not just yet, however."
"Of course not," she said softly. "Whenever you're ready."
She made her way back over to Alistair, sinking down next to him with a sigh, leaning her head against his shoulder. Sadly, he was wearing his plate armor again, and she already missed the warmth of his skin. "What's the matter?" he whispered in her ear. "You looked . . . troubled, when you were talking to Zevran."
She sighed heavily, reaching for her share of the bread, dried meat and cheese before settling back next to him. "It's nothing."
"Ayla . . ." she heard the warning note in his voice as he went on, "we weren't going to lie to each other, remember?"
"It's not my secret to tell," she told him at last, meeting his eyes and pleading with him silently to understand.
"All right," he conceded, nodding at her. "But if there's anything I can do . . ."
"I will tell you," she promised him. When he turned back to his meal, apparently satisfied, she began to eat as well, though she didn't have much of an appetite. She hoped that the Arl was done trying to split them up, and she would never have to tell Alistair. He had more than enough to worry about as it was.
At long last, Alistair thought, they were finally at Orzammar. The journey here had been a long and exhausting one, particularly for him, Aedan and Ayla. They had followed the planned watch schedule of the three of them dividing the night amongst themselves the entire way here.
As a result, none of them had had a full night's sleep since leaving Redcliffe. It had paid off, however. Between that and the other precautions they'd set up, they had managed to thwart two surprise attacks by darkspawn in the middle of night, as well as one by a roving group of bandits, with no one being seriously hurt. They'd met a few obstacles during the day as well, including a short skirmish with some bounty hunters on the way up the mountain, but nothing they couldn't handle with the full strength of their group.
He was more than glad, though, that they'd finally arrived at the dwarven city. It would be especially nice to get out of the cold and the snow that swirled around them, particularly since night was approaching. Once they were safe within its walls, they could find an inn and finally have a full night's uninterrupted sleep. Maybe a couple of nights, if they were lucky. Despite the disturbing rumours they'd heard on their way about the gates to Orzammar being closed due to some political matter, he hoped that they would be really lucky, and the dwarves would promptly agree to honor the treaty, with no complications this time.
They finished trading with all the merchants that had gathered before the gates before finally making their way to the impressive front gate. A large stone ramp with two approaches led the way up to the gate itself, a massive sculpture of stone with many pillars that stretched high into the sky, surrounding the metal doors that led into the mountainside. Doors that were firmly closed and flanked by many dwarven guards, Alistair noted with a sigh.
His hopes of an easy resolution to this treaty were being rapidly dashed, particularly when they got close enough to see a group of humans, the soldier in the lead arguing loudly with a dwarven guard.
Aedan stopped their group a few feet away from the arguing dwarf and human, just as the dark-haired, heavily armored dwarf slashed his hand impatiently through the air. "Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time."
"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly!" the human soldier retorted. He had short brown hair and wore splintmail and a longsword. He was flanked by a mage and another warrior in plate mail. Just what they needed, Alistair thought, rolling his eyes, more of Loghain's soldiers. "I am his appointed messenger."
"I don't care if you're the king's wiper," the dwarf retorted scornfully. Alistair suppressed a snort of laughter, catching the amused gleam in Ayla's eyes as well. "Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled."
Aedan apparently decided now was a good time to interrupt, stepping forward and clearing his throat. "Excuse us, but we have urgent business. May I ask why your people have retreated like this?"
"They hide because they are dwarves," the soldier snapped disdainfully, glaring at the dwarven guard.
The guard returned the glare in equal measure, looking as though he'd very much like to shut the soldier up. "I would challenge any race to fare as well. Our king is dead. Endrin Aeducan returned to the Stone not three weeks ago. The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war."
And there we go, Alistair mused, sighing inwardly. The one person they needed to honor their treaty was dead. This was definitely not going to be the easy, short trip he'd hoped for. He saw Aedan's shoulders slump slightly before he straightened up, replying, "That is most troubling, but I am afraid that the Grey Wardens need their traditional dwarven allies." Aedan dug in his pouch, producing the treaty for the dwarves and handing it to the guard, who opened it and began to read over it silently.
The human soldier's eyes widened in shock as he stared at them, before shouting, "The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!"
Aedan ignored the man altogether, as did the dwarf as he finished reading and looked up. "Well, that is the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Wardens, you may pass." He stepped back, gesturing to the metal doors behind him.
But of course, Loghain's man wasn't finished yet. "You're letting in traitors? And foreigners?" he demanded incredulously. "In the name of King Loghain, I demand that you execute this . . . stain on the honor of Ferelden!" He finished up by pointing an accusing finger at their group.
Alistair scowled, sick of hearing about the Wardens being traitors, but before he could say anything, Aedan snapped back, "Watch who you call traitors! Loghain is the traitor who killed King Cailan at Ostagar!"
"What? L-lies and slander!" the soldier stammered. "King Loghain will not suffer this! I will not suffer it. I'm his messenger!"
"He probably only sent him all this way because he's so bloody irritating," Ayla muttered under her breath.
Alistair noticed the soldier was reaching for his sword, clearly beyond furious that they were getting into Orzammar and he wasn't. He reached for his sword as well, slipping carefully in front of Ayla.
"Kill each other as you will, but take your sodding fight off my doorstep!" the dwarf shouted, pointing away from the gate.
"You heard him, away from the gate!" Aedan yelled, turning and heading back down the ramp. Alistair and the others followed suit, as did Loghain's men, before they all met at the bottom of the ramp.
Alistair went immediately for the mage, who'd been readying a spell, blasting him with a smite. The spell fizzled out, but the mage was quick to aim an arcane blast at him, which he blocked with his shield. Before he could reach the mage himself, however, Ayla came up behind the man and slit his throat with one of her swords. A fountain of blood sprayed over Alistair as the mage dropped to the ground.
He looked around quickly, seeing that the other two soldiers had rapidly fallen as well; no surprise, considering they'd been outnumbered more than two-to-one. He couldn't imagine what had possessed them to start the fight in the first place. He sheathed his sword and wiped at the blood on his face. "Thanks, love," he said wryly.
She grinned at him. "You're welcome," she teased, taking a cloth out of her pouch and wiping his face off for him. "I thought I'd save you from the big bad mage."
"I think I had it handled," he replied, unable to help smiling back at her, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers.
"All right, let's go," Aedan called from behind them. "I want to get into Orzammar before dark!"
Alistair dropped Ayla's hand regretfully, and they followed Aedan back up the ramp to the dwarven guard, who nodded in approval at them. "You've done me a service. That fool Imrek was barking for a week. Are all humans so touched?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued on, "You are free to enter Orzammar, Wardens, though I don't know what help you will find."
"Thank you." Aedan bowed low. "We are honoured to be allowed entry."
The doors were opened by the other dwarves guarding them as Aedan led the way through them into the mountainside. Just inside the doors was a large cave that had been turned into a stone hall, the only evidence that they were inside a mountain the still-rocky roof above their heads. The rest of the hall was made up of intricately carved stone walls, pillars, and statues which stood all along the sides. Rivers of lava flowed down the center of some of the pillars and continued on into the base, disappearing somewhere below. Banners dangled down from the roof, and dwarves wandered the length and breadth of the hall, admiring the statues along the way.
The guard just inside the door nodded at them as it clanged shut behind them. "Atrast vala, Wardens. Your arrival is a mixed blessing. We prefer that outsiders not witness our infighting, but your presence will be tolerated."
"We appreciate being given this chance," Aedan replied formally, before heading down the stairs to the floor below, motioning for everyone to follow.
"Do you know what all the statues are for?" Ayla whispered as they walked by one on their left that was brandishing a stone axe in its hand.
"Those statues are dwarven paragons, if I remember right," Alistair murmured back. "The best of their ancestors. I've heard they worship them in the place of gods."
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? That's interesting, I've never heard of anything like that before. The craftsmanship is impressive, though."
Alistair nodded in agreement as they made their way down the length of the hall, passing the dwarves who eyed them curiously. The intricate details on each of the statues and pillars that they passed was fascinating; he'd never seen anything like it before.
Finally, they approached the large double doors at the other end of the hall, which were pushed open by more guards, allowing them passage through into the main city of Orzammar itself. Alistair barely had time to register the awe-inspiring size of the place, an immense cavern that stretched far above their heads, before he heard the sound of several voices raised in anger.
Just ahead of the alcove they were entering from, in front of a long stone bridge that stretched to a large building in the centre of Orzammar, were two groups of armed dwarves, facing each other and shouting, hostility permeating the air around them.
"Oh, fantastic," Aedan grumbled as they stopped several feet away. "What in the Maker's name is going on now?"
An elderly, grey haired dwarf, one of the few not wearing any armor but rather finely crafted clothing, stepped forward to confront another dwarf. "It is the Assembly who makes a king, and a king who nominates his successor. None of it is carried in the blood."
The blonde, armored dwarf he was facing snorted in response. "Or as now, when someone tries to use the Assembly to throw a coup. Who's to say what my father said in his final hours when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one by his side?"
"I'll have you thrown in prison!" the older dwarf snapped in response.
"You've bitten off more than you can chew!" the blonde dwarf snarled back at him. Alistair was pretty certain this whole thing was about to come to blows very shortly.
Another dwarf stepped forward, trying to intercede. "Handlers! Separate these deshyrs in the Diamond Quarter! I will not have Bhelen incite a riot!"
A dwarf standing opposite him, next to the younger blonde dwarf, pulled an axe off his back, shouting, "You will not speak that way about the man who should be king!" Without warning, he advanced forward in a few quick steps, knocking the legs out from under the dwarf, sending him crashing to the ground. Before he could recover, the axe descended into his chest, blood spurting up as the dwarf let out a pained cry.
The older dwarf and his supporters, who had been closest to the now dead dwarf, backed up in shock and surprise, before fleeing to the right down a set of stairs. The dwarf who'd delivered the blow, and the blonde he'd defended, stood for a moment staring after the others before turning and heading off in the opposite direction.
"'Tis obviously a struggle for power," Morrigan commented from where she stood next to Aedan.
"It appears to be a fight over the throne," Zevran observed, nodding in agreement. "In Antiva, they would have merely called on the Crows to assassinate one another, rather than coming to open blows. Much more civilized, no?"
"Oh, certainly, Zevran," Leliana replied sarcastically. "Assassinating each other sounds like a much better idea."
"If they would but follow the Qun, such conflict over leadership would be unnecessary," Sten added.
Aedan groaned aloud, covering his face with a hand and shaking his head. "Dwarven politics! My father told me they were by far the most difficult to deal with."
Alistair sighed as he watched the remaining dwarves who'd been on guard deal with the mess left behind. No, this was not going to be a short or easy trip. On the positive side, though, maybe they'd get several nights of rest in an actual inn. "Welcome to Orzammar, I suppose," he remarked wryly.