A/N: I know, I'm super late with this chapter, I apologize! June has been a really busy month so far and I wasn't able to get this chapter finished until today! Actually, the summer itself may be fairly busy for me, so I might end up doing monthly updates over the summer instead of biweekly. I will try my best to stick to biweekly but can't guarantee it. However I will still be working on the story, I promise!
Anyway, this one is rather DA plot heavy again out of necessity, but I did try to add my own spin to it as much as possible. Hope you enjoy!
Thanks to all those who have favorited, followed, and read the story so far. Hope you continue to like it!
Special thanks go to the reviewers from last chapter, particularly those who have reviewed multiple times: PheonixTears589, XZanayu, Quillyquill19, Barleyguy, BeadlingBox, cas.92, and Valtharia. Thanks also to random guest reviewer, please get an account (or give me a name!) so I can respond properly! I'm really glad you enjoyed it so much you stayed up late reading it :) and that it got the intended reactions out of you! Hope you like the new chapter as well :).
Just a reminder, special gift fic to 100th reviewer! See Chapter 30 A/N for details. Only 9 more reviews to go until someone gets it! :)
As always, don't own DA characters and dialogue used in chapter, do own the rest!
Chapter 33: The Stubbornness of Dwarves
Alistair watched as Aedan sighed wearily, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair before turning to look at all of them. "Well, let's get going. We'll look around for an inn to stay at for the night while we gather a bit of information about what's going on in Orzammar. We can see what the merchants here have to offer, as well; they might have some useful information."
They nodded and began to follow Aedan through the city, which was constructed entirely of stone, from top to bottom. They followed the streets and bridges built of stone over the flowing lava beneath as they made their way around, speaking to some of the dwarves in the streets, and checking out the wares at some of the stalls along the way. The roof of the cavern that housed Orzammar was so high that it was lost in shadow, yet Alistair could still feel its presence overhead, as well as the lack of sunshine and sky. Orzammar had a certain beauty in its well-constructed stone buildings and in the waterfalls of lava that flowed down here and there throughout the city, but he didn't think he could ever live underground like this even so.
While they were all split up between various stalls, speaking to the merchants and deciding what to buy, Alistair noticed Aedan purchase a golden-backed mirror at the next stall over, carefully tucking it away into his pack. He frowned, wondering what use his fellow Warden could have for such a thing. A present for Morrigan, perhaps? He couldn't really see the witch wanting it, though.
But a present might not be such a bad idea, he mused, looking over at Ayla next to him. She was studying the weapons laid out on the counter before them, turning some over, picking others up and setting them down. He tugged on the end of her braid, and she turned back to look at him, smiling. "What is it?"
"Do you want some new swords?" he asked her softly, drawing her closer to him, partly out of habit and partly just because he missed her. They hadn't had much time together over the last month. "The dwarves are renowned for their blacksmithing abilities, you know."
She considered it for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I'm quite fond of my own swords, thank you." She patted the hilts. "They are a family heirloom, after all, and I'm quite used to the weight and feel of them. I could use some more daggers, though."
"Well, let's get you some, then. There's a smith right over there, he'll likely have a better selection." He nodded at a shop across the way, guiding her over there.
They went into the smith's, and had a look over his selection, which was rather impressive, while Alistair casually pressed him for information. They ended up purchasing several new throwing daggers for Ayla, as well as a new longsword for Alistair himself. They rejoined the others outside after they were done.
"So why the shiny new weapons?" Ayla murmured as they followed Aedan towards a large building that they were hoping was an inn. "Are you trying to bribe me or something?" She grinned teasingly at him.
"No, but if it inspires you to give me something in return, feel free," he told her, waggling his eyebrows to make her laugh. "It's just a present, a thank you for being so patient with all these Warden problems. And you will likely end up needing them, going by past experience with these treaties."
"You are most welcome, good ser," she replied, before adding seriously, "but you don't need to give me anything, you know."
"I know, I just wanted to." Before he could say anything further, Aedan stopped in front of them, bringing the rest of them to a halt at the base of the stairs leading up to the stone building they'd been making their way to, built against the cavern wall.
"Tapster's Tavern," Aedan announced, studying the sign swaying above their heads. "This is the only place I've seen that looks like it might offer beds to stay for the night. We might as well check it out."
They headed up the stairs through the door into the tavern. It was dark, crowded, and smelly inside, packed to the brim with kegs, stone tables and chairs, and drunken dwarves carrying around massive mugs. The building itself seemed to have actually been constructed into the cavern wall, as there were outcroppings of rock sticking up out of the floor or plunging down from the ceiling. Torches hanging off the walls or the rocks provided the only light in the tavern, and two dwarves were up on a flat dais at one side of the room, loudly and drunkenly singing in their own language. They found an empty table to sit at while Aedan went to talk to a dwarven woman behind the bar opposite the dais.
Alistair wrinkled his nose as they sat down. "What's that smell? Dwarven vomit? Charming."
"Dwarven vomit," Ayla agreed, looking both amused and faintly disgusted, "among other things."
"I wish I could understand what they were singing," Leliana sighed, studying the two dwarves stumbling around the stage.
"My dear Leliana, I do not believe they understand what they are singing," Zevran replied, smirking.
Aedan returned at that moment, sinking down onto a stone chair next to Morrigan. "Luckily, they do happen to have rooms here that we can stay in while we're here. However long that happens to be." He sighed, leaning back against the chair. "She's bringing us over some supper as well."
"What's our next move?" Alistair asked.
"They're holding another assembly early tomorrow morning, according to one of the merchants," Aedan answered. "We'll take the treaty there and see what they have to say. You and I should go, for sure, but everyone else is welcome to do whatever they like for the day, until we have more solid plans." He hesitated for a moment, before going on, "If the Assembly does not settle things soon, we may have to help things along."
Alistair frowned, studying him. "What do you mean? Wardens aren't supposed to interfere in political matters or side with anyone."
"I know that," Aedan snapped back, before shaking his head wearily. "I just don't think we'll have much of a choice. If the dwarves don't have a leader, who will give us the troops we need? And we don't have time to wait for them to fight a civil war over it, either."
"It may not be what Wardens are supposed to do," Wynne began carefully, "but it does seem like your best choice. Speaking to the citizens, it sounds like things are chaotic. The two of you may have to help bring order to the chaos."
"I suppose you're right," Alistair agreed reluctantly. He didn't really like the idea of having to interfere in politics, but weren't they going to do the same thing with Loghain, anyway? And it was true they didn't have time to wait for the dwarves to take several more weeks to decide things on their own. "But who do you think we should side with, then?"
"Well," Aedan began, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table, "from the information we've gathered, we have two choices. There's Bhelen, the former king's only remaining son, or Harrowmont, his trusted general. If we were going by human rights of succession, Bhelen would be the obvious choice, but dwarven successors are chosen. They do not automatically inherit. And some are saying that Harrowmont is the old king's choice over his own son."
"Others are saying that this Harrowmont was the only one by the king's side when he supposedly said this," Morrigan pointed out. "He could merely be using this opportunity to seize power."
"True, but I heard also that many of the dwarves believe Bhelen killed his oldest brother and framed his other brother for the crime," Ayla added. "If the old king believed that, he may very well have picked someone else to succeed him."
"This Bhelen sounds more like an Antivan than a dwarf," Zevran remarked. "There were other rumors that he may also have helped his father along."
"We should maybe look at what they want to do with their power once they get it," Alistair suggested. "Since we don't know what the truth is behind who did what or who said what. Most of the merchants seemed to be supporting Bhelen, since he is pushing for free trade with the surface, while Harrowmont wants to close off trade."
Aedan nodded as he took the plate and drink the barmaid offered him, as she moved around the table setting out their supper. "That is a good point, Alistair. We would likely never be able to find out the truth behind what has already happened, but we can try to figure out which one would be better for Orzammar. A lot of the dwarves were saying Harrowmont is a traditionalist, not likely to change anything. While I've heard Bhelen may also be interested in abolishing that archaic caste system the dwarves like to go by. Which makes me inclined to lean towards him. However, we don't have to decide anything right now."
"You should wait until this Assembly," Leliana offered. "They may both be there, and you can see what each one is like in person before you decide. Besides, you may not have to take sides if you are lucky."
"Meeting them in person is a good idea, if we can manage it," Ayla agreed, nodding. "I'd like to get the measure of them both."
Alistair knew she wanted to use her instincts to get a feel for both of them, as she had with Zathrian, before backing either of them up, and he couldn't blame her. If they did end up having to interfere and put one of the dwarves on the throne, it would be a huge decision to make, especially for a people not their own.
"That is probably best, if we can meet with them in person. We will wait, then," Aedan decided. "Anybody who wants to come along to the Assembly, meet me down here at dawn. Otherwise, you're free to do as you like until Alistair and I come back."
The others all offered various forms of agreement as they finished their supper. Alistair, meanwhile, sincerely hoped that they would find an easy answer at the Assembly tomorrow, but at least he could look forward to sleeping through the night for the first time in a month tonight. He would worry about the rest of it tomorrow.
He woke up the next morning, shortly before dawn according to the measured-out candle the dwarves used to tell time, Ayla wrapped in his arms, her back pressed to his front, and sighed with contentment. The dwarven bed, though a little short for him, was soft and comfortable, and he'd both missed the feel of a good bed and of having Ayla there when he woke up. As far as he could tell by her steady breathing, she appeared to be still sleeping at the moment.
He slid his hand up along her stomach, relishing in the feel of her soft skin. It had been too long since he'd felt it, what with the both of them sleeping in their armor every night, and having little to no time alone where they weren't trying to sleep. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the delicious scent of the flowered soap she'd used when they bathed last night.
He felt her hand grip his wrist just as he reached her breasts and stop him from going further. "You know we have to meet Aedan right away. It's almost dawn," she rebuked him softly, though she sounded amused.
He didn't reply right away, instead grazing his teeth over her neck, pleased when she shivered in response. "I know. I've missed waking up to you like this, though," he answered her at last.
She turned over in his arms, cradling his face in her hands, her eyes full of soft warmth as she looked at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "It was a rough few weeks," she agreed, "having you right there and yet not having you. But if we get this dwarven treaty figured out, we can spend some time alone together again."
He sighed, kissing her quickly in response. "I suppose we should get going then. Does that mean you're coming with us?"
He rolled out of bed to get dressed and she followed suit, nodding. "I would have nothing to do around here anyway, so I'll come with the two of you to the Assembly. Besides, if our two candidates are there, I'd like to see just what kind of men they are."
He nodded in agreement and the two of them dressed hurriedly before going down to the tavern itself, mostly deserted barring the few patrons sleeping with their heads on the stone tables or floors, to meet Aedan. Morrigan was there as well, along with Zevran, and the five of them proceeded to head to the Diamond Quarter, the section of Orzammar where the Assembly was held.
Alistair learned as they went that Leliana had chosen to stay behind in the hopes of learning as many dwarven songs and tales as possible while they were here. Wynne had wanted some time to rest, as the travel was wearing heavily on her, and Sten had no interest in dwarven politics, so he had chosen to remain behind as well. Aedan had left Striker with him, just in case the dog might have decided to cause problems at the Assembly. The other two had chosen to come along, saying they had nothing else they wanted to do anyway. Alistair thought Morrigan had most likely come along to support Aedan, though she would never admit it, and Zevran had probably come along out of curiosity. He seemed to have a fascination with thrones and politics.
They made their way through the streets to the doors that led up to the next level of Orzammar, where the Diamond Quarter was located. Once up there, they headed toward the Assembly building itself. The Diamond Quarter was made of much finer quality stone than the level below. The streets were empty of the stalls and vendors that crowded them below, instead being filled with well-dressed nobles and criers shouting news about Bhelen and Harrowmont. The buildings were much larger, taller and better built than those below, almost dazzling in their craftsmanship. They asked directions from one of the dwarves, who pointed them to the largest building of all, with a wide entryway of several steps leading up to huge double doors.
Aedan led the way through the doors, into a small stone entryway where Alistair was in danger of nearly bumping his head on the ceiling, through hallways carpeted with green-patterned rugs and walls decorated with blue crystals. Two guards flanked another set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and when Aedan held up the treaty, they nodded and pushed the doors open for their party to pass through. One said sternly, "The assembly is in session. Enter quietly if you wish to observe."
The Assembly room itself turned out to be a high-ceilinged, round room set with many circular layers of seats, all filled with richly dressed dwarves currently yelling loudly at one another. In the empty space in the middle was a harassed-looking, grey-haired dwarven steward, trying desperately to keep order.
"Your mind has gone to dust if you think we would pass such a writ," a dwarven lord shouted from above as they stopped in the middle to watch the proceedings. "Half our houses would go broke without the surface trade."
"The proposal is only effective until we have a king to ensure we are respected by the surfacers!" retorted a second lord.
"Leaving you conveniently positioned to take over all contracts," the first lord sneered in response. "I'll see your head on a pike, first!"
"Deshyrs, lords and ladies of the Assembly," the steward called loudly, his voice ringing with exasperation, "I've already doubled the guards to prevent violence. Must I summon more?"
"Steward Bandelor, Bhelen's sympathizers are tying our hands with trivialities!" the lord shouted back. "They may as well open us to the sky!"
"I suggest we put the matter to a vote," a dwarven lady called out.
"And I suggest you have a taste of my family's mace -" the second dwarven lord snarled.
"Enough!" the steward bellowed, cutting off both the lord and the rising tide of arguments. "The Assembly is in recess until members can gain control of their emotions!"
The steward turned in exasperation and headed out of the room. Aedan gestured to them to follow, and once they were out in the hallway again with the doors closed behind them, he approached the weary-looking Steward Bandelor. "Might we have a moment of your time?" Aedan asked.
"Stone forsaken fools and dusters . . ." Steward Bandelor grumbled to himself, before looking up at Aedan. "I'm sorry. This is the assembly of the Clans. Only deshyrs and occasional guests of state are allowed in."
"Well," Aedan began, "we are actually Grey Wardens, hoping to speak to whoever is in charge of the Assembly. Did they not send word ahead from the front gates?"
"Forgive me, I am so exhausted. I completely forgot about the message from the gate guard," the steward replied, shaking his head. "Welcome to Orzammar, Wardens. I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard. Respect for your role is great, but you won't receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne."
Aedan exchanged a glance with Alistair, and he sighed. Exactly what they'd been afraid of. "A Blight is coming, we need permission as soon as we can get it," Aedan stated carefully. "Who might have the authority to aid us?"
The steward nodded, responding, "Dulin Forender, Harrowmont's man, can be found at the Harrowmont estate. Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's second, is often here in the Assembly. I only wish there was more I could do for you."
Alistair frowned, noting that the Steward hadn't said anything about meeting Harrowmont or Bhelen themselves, as Aedan asked, "Is there any way we can break this stalemate?"
Steward Bandelor shrugged in response. "I must admit, Warden, I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont, and they are slow to trust anyone in these uncertain times."
"Well, let us know when they stop bickering," Aedan said at last.
"Not until something forces their hands, I'm afraid. Only Bhelen or Harrowmont can settle this," the steward said with finality.
The five of them turned and walked a little ways away. "Exactly what we thought," Aedan murmured. "We won't be able to do anything about the treaty until one of those two gets on the throne."
"It doesn't sound like we'll have much luck in meeting them face-to-face, either," Alistair added. "At least, not right away. We'll have to find those seconds of theirs, see if we can set up a meeting."
"Right," Aedan nodded. "Well, he said that Bhelen's man is usually here, so let's have a look around."
"Perhaps that is him over there?" Morrigan suggested, indicating an alcove a little ways down, off the side of the hallway, that they had not noticed when they first came in. A dark-haired dwarf with a short beard, outfitted in splint mail, stood there watching the Assembly members leave.
"Let's go find out." Aedan led the way over to the alcove, stopping just in front of the dwarf. Before he could say anything, however, the dwarf spoke first.
"Wardens, welcome. It is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order. I am Vartag Gavorn, top advisor to our good Prince Bhelen. What news do you bring?"
How had he known who they were already? Alistair wondered, noting the quick jerk of surprise Aedan gave before he recovered and answered, "The darkspawn threaten the surface in great numbers. We need aid against a Blight."
"Yes, the treaty. I've seen it in the shaper's libraries." Vartag shook his head in seeming regret before continuing, "Now, the difficulty is that the treaty only compels our king, and we are sadly lacking one of those right now."
"Yes, so we've heard. Might we talk to Bhelen?" Aedan asked.
Vartag paused for a long moment, and Alistair could see the 'no' coming before he even said it. "You must understand, Harrowmont hides behind his good reputation while sending spies and assassins. Bhelen can't know who to trust. It's been like a knife in the heart for Bhelen to see so many of his father's men stand with the usurper."
Aedan regarded the dwarf, saying at last, "We had heard that King Endrin himself supported Harrowmont."
"That hurts worst of all," Vartag replied, giving a good impression of sorrow, though Alistair didn't quite buy it. "That Harrowmont would take advantage of the dying king's delirium to plant such poisonous suspicions against his own son. After that, you understand why Bhelen cannot trust the word of a stranger. However reputable that stranger might be," he finished slyly.
"So no, then," Alistair muttered under his breath, causing Ayla to laugh softly.
"What must we do to prove our good intentions, then?" Aedan demanded, crossing his arms.
Vartag smiled, as though he'd been hoping for just such an opening. "Harrowmont is engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure that every house serves him. But if a neutral party, a stranger, were to approach certain key members, perhaps with irrefutable evidence of Harrowmont's deception . . . I'm certain my lord prince would show his gratitude."
"What kind of evidence do you possess?" Aedan asked wearily.
"Harrowmont promised the same portion of his estate to two different deshyrs, Lady Dace and Lord Helmi. Harrowmont can't possibly grant it to both of them, but they won't find out until after the vote is cast. I have copies of the promissory notes Harrowmont gave each of them." Vartag took a handful of papers out of a pouch, holding them out to Aedan, who took them reluctantly. "Once they see those, they should both reconsider their votes."
Aedan read the notes over for a moment before looking up at Vartag. "We will find Lady Dace and Lord Helmi right now."
A devious-looking smile spread over Vartag's face before he replied, "Lady Dace doesn't leave the quarter much. But Lord Helmi's adventurous, likes to spend his time at Tapsters . . . in the Commons. Remember, don't tell them you got these papers from me. You learned of them and drew your own conclusions."
Aedan merely nodded, before turning and stalking away, gesturing to the others to follow him. Once they were out of the Assembly and on the steps, he stopped and turned to look at them.
"Are we really going to deliver those notes?" Alistair asked. True, they hadn't met Bhelen yet, but his second seemed rather shady.
"I'd rather meet the other second first before making a final decision," Aedan answered. He looked at the others. "What did the rest of you think?"
Ayla shrugged. "This Vartag fellow is not trustworthy, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"That is true," Zevran chimed in. "All it means is that this Bhelen fellow makes use of whatever tool he must to get the job done. Not a bad trait for a King to have."
"I care not which dwarf you pick," Morrigan said dismissively.
"Right," Aedan sighed. "Well, let's see if we can find this other fellow, then."
They had just reached the bottom of the steps outside the assembly when a red-haired dwarf, sporting an elaborately braided beard and full armor, approached them. "I heard there were Grey Wardens here. I am Dulin Forender, second to Lord Harrowmont, King Endrin's own choice as successor. Word is spreading that the surface may suffer a Blight. It is shameful we are not in a better position to help."
Well, that was easy, Alistair thought, as Aedan bowed to the dwarf, saying, "We would like to speak with Lord Harrowmont in regards to the Blight."
"In an ordinary time, Lord Harrowmont would be honoured to meet you," Dulin began, hesitating before continuing, "Unfortunately, we've already caught more than one of Bhelen's spies approaching Harrowmont under a pretence of friendship. So, I'm afraid I won't be able to take your word. If you want to speak to Harrowmont, you will need to prove he can trust you."
Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious exasperation. An edge of annoyance crept into his tone as he replied, "We have no time for your political games. The treaty compels you to help."
"You're asking the king of Orzammar to send armies to the surface, but Orzammar has no king and we have no army. Right now, the men who should be fighting darkspawn are brawling in the street. If this situation is not resolved, we face civil war! If you want Lord Harrowmont's time now, you'll have to prove you have no intention of turning against him later," Dulin finished, his tone and stance indicating that there was no arguing the point.
Aedan scowled at the dwarf. "So, you would hope that the darkspawn will wait patiently for you to resolve your disputes?"
"If you wish to show you have no loyalty to Bhelen, then work against him in Harrowmont's name," Dulin replied. Alistair wondered if the dwarf had actually heard a word that Aedan had said, as he continued on, "Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly to honor his father's memory. The deshyrs take it very seriously. And unfortunately, Bhelen found some way to blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont's best fighters into stepping down."
"Why would the Assembly care which of your fighters wins this tournament?" Aedan asked in an exasperated tone. It seemed both candidates wanted them to prove themselves, when really, Alistair thought, they should be the ones trying to prove they were the right candidates for the throne to them.
"The Proving is a contest of the best warriors in Orzammar. By fighting, they show who has the ancestor's favour. If you were to enter the Proving as Lord Harrowmont's champion, it would prove your loyalty beyond a doubt," Dulin answered, as though it were a simple and obvious matter.
Zevran snorted with derision from behind them. "And this is to be your king? One who cannot keep his own men from running like frightened children?"
"Lord Harrowmont does not use threats or intimidation to motivate his men," Dulin snapped at the elf. "He leads by example."
"Ah, I see. So it's his example they follow as they cower from this Prince Bhelen?" Zevran retorted scornfully.
"How dare you slander Lord Harrowmont!" Dulin shouted, stepping forward to confront the elf.
"Why should we ally ourselves with someone too scared to even grant us an audience?" Zevran demanded, not backing down from the dwarf in the slightest.
Aedan stepped quickly between the two, facing Zevran. "I can see what you mean, Zevran, but let me handle this."
"Were I you," Zevran replied, not bothering to lower his voice, "I would seek a stronger king than this Harrowmont."
"He's got a point," Ayla agreed. Alistair turned to look at her in surprise. "They need a strong leader," she whispered so only he could hear.
"Surely you don't mean Bhelen," Dulin exclaimed incredulously, causing Aedan to turn and look at him again.
Aedan looked at the dwarf for a long moment, then at Zevran, Ayla, and Morrigan, before finally looking at Alistair. He shrugged, not knowing what to do now. Dulin seemed like a decent man in comparison to Vartag, but that didn't mean that Harrowmont would be any better of a king than Bhelen. Zevran and Ayla likely had a point, the more he thought about it. Aedan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before he turned back to Dulin. "I'm sorry," he said at last, "but we cannot support you."
Dulin reeled back in surprise, before anger descended over his face. "Then you and I have nothing more to say," he snapped, before turning and heading back the way he came.
"So, you think Bhelen is the best choice, then?" Alistair asked Aedan quietly as they watched the irate dwarf leave.
Aedan shook his head. "I don't know. His policies sound more like what the dwarves need right now, and he might not be a good person, but . . ."
"That doesn't mean he'll make a bad king," Ayla finished. "As Zevran said, if this Harrowmont can't even keep a few of his own men in line, how can he expect to keep an entire kingdom of stubborn dwarves in line? You saw what they were like in there. If Harrowmont can't stand up to them, they would run rampant over him. It doesn't matter how good of a man he might be if half of his kingdom won't follow him."
"Indeed," Zevran nodded in agreement. "Whereas this Bhelen fellow sounds as though he will be much more likely to be able to make use of what he must to keep things running."
"So Bhelen is not the better man, but he's the one more likely to keep the dwarves from descending into civil war. That's what you're saying?" Alistair asked. When Ayla nodded, he sighed. "Well, if that's what you truly think, then let's go ahead and get this done with."
"Which means we need to start with delivering these notes to Lady Dace and Lord Helmi," Aedan supplied, holding up the papers Vartag had given him. "He said Lady Dace should be up here. Let's find her first, then we can speak to Lord Helmi at the tavern when we go to tell the others what's going on."
They spoke to a few different nobles roaming around in the Quarter before they found one who told them where the Dace House could be found. When they made their way over there, they discovered a dwarven woman just exiting the large house, her brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun, wearing a finely made outfit of silks. "Are you Lady Dace?" Aedan asked.
"What do you want?" she demanded. She looked them over, and without waiting for an answer, continued, "Oh, I suppose you're the Grey Wardens everyone's talking about."
"Yes, we are. We are honoured to make your acquaintance," Aedan replied, sweeping her a bow. He hesitated before handing over one of the papers he'd gotten from Vartag. "You may want to take a look at these papers before the next vote."
Lady Dace read it over before looking up at them in surprise. "Well . . . this isn't exactly a surface broadsheet. Where did you get these?" Aedan opened his mouth to answer, but she shook her head. "Never mind. It is true enough. But there is nothing I can do about it. This deal was made on behalf of our entire house. Only my father can revoke it."
"Where is he?" Aedan asked. "We can bring this to his attention as well."
"He is leading a Deep Roads expedition, trying to secure an ancient thaig," she answered, and Alistair groaned inwardly, already knowing where this was likely to go. "It's unlikely he'll be back before the election, but perhaps this vote is important enough for you to brave the tunnels to tell him? The Dace family would be in your debt."
Alistair saw the slight slump in Aedan's shoulders before he straightened up again, meeting Lady Dace's hopeful gaze. "How would we know where in the Deep Roads to find your father?"
"He was searching an old Aeducan site. He left me with this map, in case his expedition never returned," she explained, pulling a folded, weathered map out of her pocket and handing it to Aedan, along with another, crisper sheet of parchment. "I'll give you a pass as well. Usually, no one is allowed past the front lines. Does that mean you'll go?"
Considering Aedan had already taken the papers she had handed over, the answer should have been obvious, Alistair thought, but Aedan replied anyway, "Yes, we will leave shortly."
"So Bhelen's victory means enough for you to risk your life. How interesting . . ." With that cryptic remark, Lady Dace wandered off into the Quarter.
"Here I was hoping we wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads while we were here, but it looks like we have little choice." Aedan stuffed the papers in his pouch before heading to the door leading out of the Quarter, motioning everyone to follow.
"What are the Deep Roads exactly?" Ayla looked back and forth between Alistair and Aedan. "You both look like you're dreading the prospect of going there."
"With good reason," Alistair told her as they walked along, passing a red-haired dwarf in full silver plate armor who was shouting loudly at a dwarven nobleman on their way out. "The Deep Roads used to be part of the dwarven empire, highways carved out underground joining their cities. Now they're just ruined tunnels filled with darkspawn. It's where they live, only coming up to the surface for Blights."
"And it's where we Wardens get to go when we retire," Aedan added, a touch of bitterness in his voice. He hadn't taken it too well the day Alistair had told him about that, but Alistair winced when he brought it up. He'd yet to tell Ayla fully about the "retirement" of the Wardens, and still hadn't been sure if he wanted to or not. He did not want her to hear about it like this.
"Where you go when you retire? What does that mean?" Ayla turned to look at Alistair, eyebrows raised.
"Nothing," Alistair said hurriedly, glaring fiercely at Aedan. Aedan's eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded in response to Alistair's unspoken message.
They had just made their way through the door and back down to the Commons, and Ayla stepped in front of Alistair, hands planted on her hips. "We weren't going to lie to each other, remember?"
Alistair groaned inwardly; he so did not want to tell her about this, especially not right now. He waved his hand at Aedan and the others. "Go ahead, we'll catch up to you."
Aedan nodded. "We'll go on ahead to Tapsters and see if Lord Helmi is there to deliver this note, and then find the others to let them know what's going on."
Alistair turned back to Ayla as the others left. She was scowling fiercely at him. "Tell me, Alistair. Why exactly would Wardens go to tunnels full of darkspawn for their 'retirement'?"
Well, there was nothing to do now but tell her, he decided. "Do you remember that I told you the taint eventually claims the Wardens, after about thirty or so years?" When she nodded, he went on, "When we feel it start to come on, we don't just wait for it, because we don't actually want it to take us over. It . . . would turn us into something like darkspawn. So. . . we go alone, down into the Deep Roads, to die fighting darkspawn. We try to take as many as we can down with us before they kill us. That's how we . . . retire. That's what . . . Duncan was planning on doing soon, if the Blight hadn't happened."
Her eyes were wide with shock and horror when he'd finished, a hand over her mouth as she stared at him. "Why . . . why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked at last, her voice unsteady.
He shrugged uncomfortably, not entirely sure of his reasons himself. "Because . . . I didn't want you to worry about it, I guess. Or . . . look at me like that. And, I might not even make it to that point, so it may never be a problem."
"Alistair . . ." He thought he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes, which tore at his heart as it always did, before she shook her head and cleared her throat. "You should worry about yourself with something like this, not me, okay?" She paused, studying him for a long moment before she nodded. "When that happens, I'm going with you."
"What?!" He reeled in back in shock. While part of him was touched to hear her say that, he was mostly just horrified at the thought of her sharing the dark fate that awaited him. "No, you're not!"
She scowled at him again, folding her arms across her chest. "And just how do you intend to stop me?"
"I don't know, but I'll figure something out!" He snapped in exasperation, before he went on quietly, "There's no need for you to do that. I don't want you to have to go through that."
Her face softened as she looked at him. "Thank you, but there is a need for me to do that. I might even tell you one day about it." Before he could work out what to say in answer to that, or what exactly she meant, she'd already gone after Aedan and the others to Tapsters, and he had to hurry to catch up to her.
They reached the tavern just in time to see Aedan addressing the rest of the group. "I won't ask anyone to come into the Deep Roads with me. Anybody who wishes to stay is welcome to remain here at the tavern until I get back. It may take a few days. Since we have little time to waste, I will gather up a few supplies and leave right away."
Alistair raised an eyebrow at him as he turned around. "You mean 'we', don't you? You wouldn't survive long down there without me around, since you still have trouble sensing darkspawn at times."
"I'm getting better," Aedan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But thank you. I . . . could use your help, yes. I just didn't want to drag anyone with me on such a dangerous errand."
"Brother Wardens, right?" Alistair reminded him. Aedan smiled in answer, nodding.
"I will come along as well," Morrigan sniffed. "'Tis a fool's errand, but you will have need of healing magic before you are through, I'm sure."
"I might as well come along, too," Zevran put in cheerfully. "I would be bored in an inn full of nothing but dwarves for three days. It would be far more entertaining killing some darkspawn."
"I will not participate in some foolish dwarven prince's whim," Sten rumbled. "I will remain here."
Aedan nodded. "Will you look after Striker for me, then? I would not want to bring him along in the tunnels."
Sten grunted and nodded in reply, as Wynne declined coming along as well, stating that she was still weary from their travel to get here, which Aedan told her was fine. Leliana offered to come, saying she was happy to help and to see the marvellous sights of the old dwarven highways with her own eyes.
"Of course, I'll come along, too," Ayla added. "You could use the extra senses in a dangerous place, I'm sure."
"All right, everybody go get what you need, and we'll meet back down here in a few minutes," Aedan said. "Thank you, everyone."
As they went back up to their room, Alistair murmured to Ayla, "You know you don't have to come. Aedan and I will be able to keep track of the darkspawn, and it's only a few days. You could stay here with Sten and Wynne."
She turned to him, arching a brow. "You mean I could stay here where I'd be safe?"
"Well . . . yes," he admitted, shrugging. When he saw the dangerous glint in her eyes, he amended hastily, "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. It's just . . . well, I worry about you, and . . . it is kind of a fool's errand in a very dangerous place."
She sighed and shook her head as they reached their room, gathering together the supplies they would need. "I am glad that you worry about me, but I will be fine. And how am I supposed to watch your back if I am not there with you? Besides, my orders were to go where you go, remember?"
"I don't think Duncan had that in mind as a permanent order," Alistair retorted, irritated that she was being stubborn about this when he was only concerned for her safety.
"Well, I didn't hear him give a time limit on it," she snapped back. They glared at each other fiercely for a moment before her shoulders slumped and she sighed, crossing the room to him and wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her into him tightly, his irritation disappearing with her arms around him, burying his face in her hair.
"I worry about you too," she whispered against his chest. "I'm not about to let you go somewhere that dangerous without me, all right?"
"Okay," he agreed after a long moment, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I don't like thinking of you down there, but if that's what you want, then we'll both go."
She looked up at him, nodding firmly. "That's what I want."
"All right." He kissed her, hard and swift, before pulling back. "We'd better get back down there, then, before they leave without us."
They finished packing up their things and headed back down to the tavern. Alistair silently cursed the stubbornness of dwarves as they went. He was not looking forward to entering the Deep Roads; he only prayed that something bad did not happen while they were down there.