Chapter 32
"No one has power over what they are, only what they do."
—Qunari saying
Alistair
The first messenger was a dwarf from the Merchant's Guild, escorted in by two members of the Royal Guard. A suspicious Steward Warrick followed with another dwarf walking beside him, who was regarded somewhat less suspiciously.
"Your Majesty," Warrick said as he side-stepped the guards and then indicated the first dwarf, "this man claims to be a representative of the Dwarven Merchants Guild in Kirkwall. He also claims to have a message for you from a member of their guild."
Alistair skimmed over the scowling dwarf in front and pointed at the ruddy cheeked, familiar looking one in the back. "And you?"
"Gorim of House Saelac, member of the Dwarven Merchants Guild here in Denerim, brought here to verify Cenric's membership in the Guild." He sounded annoyed at his current duty, and whatever annoyed him about it served to rid him of any fear others would have had when facing the King.
"You look familiar," said Alistair. "Oh! You're the fellow who sells fine dwarven crafts!"
"Direct from Orzammar," said Gorim, though with far less enthusiasm than the shouting he tended to do in the marketplace. Glum, really. He sounded glum. Then again, the scowls from the other merchant really could do that to anyone, no matter what exuberance they might've had before.
Anora moved to stand beside Alistair. "Thank you, Ser Gorim. I'm sure you've business matters to return to. You're welcome to do so."
After a respectful bow, Gorim left, a guard trailing behind him to help him find his way out.
"Your message?" Alistair asked Cenric.
The dwarf patted over his coat and trousers before producing a sealed letter and handing it over to Alistair. "No reply necessary," he said before Alistair even had a chance to examine the seal. Then he looked at the door and back again, eyebrows raised expectantly. "If I could go?"
Alistair dismissed him with a wave, not bothering to look up as he cracked the House Tethras seal. Once he read the contents, the messenger was entirely forgotten in the wake of Alistair committing his entire will to keep from losing his temper in front of the children. He hoped he wasn't shaking. He really, really hoped that this was some poorly thought out prank courtesy of Varric, or that Varric had gotten some bad intelligence, but even Alistair's optimism didn't stretch that far.
"Alistair?" asked Anora.
"Your Majesty?" asked Warrick.
Alistair realized it'd taken him longer than he'd thought to get hold of his temper. "Warrick," he said, finally shifting his attention from the letter to focus it on his steward, "send a messenger for Warden-Commander Hildur. I need to see her right away." Before Warrick had even left, Alistair summoned the princes' personal guard—Oscar, long since assigned to the boys after his first harrying assignment to Líadan—inside. As Oscar stepped through the door, Alistair looked over at the three quiet, wide-eyed children and did his best to keep his tone even and his voice calm. "Oscar is going to bring you to your rooms. Rowan, you can keep visiting with them. We just have grown-up things to discuss now, and none of you need to hear it."
It wouldn't be the first time the boys had been sent off due to sudden, urgent matters of state. They obeyed without question, but it never failed to rattle them. Their quietness served as evidence of their wariness. Alistair considered sending Connor with them, but he wasn't a child any longer, and how Connor reacted to this would go a long way to show Alistair just how loyal and level-headed the young man had become.
Once Oscar was herding the children out the door, Nuala stood.
"No," Alistair, recalling the conversation he'd had with Nuala earlier. This was something she'd want to hear firsthand. She deserved to hear it firsthand. Her importance to their family warranted it. "You stay. Oscar can get one of the other nurses to help."
After another guard had shut the door behind the exiting children, Alistair let out a long breath, his temper struggling to rise again and nearly succeeding.
"Alistair, what's happened?" asked Anora.
"This is…" Alistair held up the folded letter, surprised at the steadiness of his hand. "This is a letter from Varric Tethras, merchant prince and the best information dealer in Kirkwall. He tells me that he believes—without a doubt—that Líadan and the children have been taken by Knight-Commander Meredith and are being held in the Gallows."
A string of curses flowed from Teagan, shocking Alistair at how vile they were. However, they did a very good job at describing his own thoughts on the situation. Nuala's curses were no less vile, and definitely louder, while Anora said nothing at first, instead choosing to pace.
It amazed Alistair how quickly Anora could begin strategizing, and he knew she was doing exactly that. Some people cursed or shouted. Anora strategized.
"What will you do, Alistair?" asked Teagan.
Nuala provided the answer: "He'll go fetch them back, of course. Knight-Commander or not, that woman has no right to take or keep any of them."
Alistair looked over at Anora. "Is—"
Before he could finish his question, a cursory knock sounded on the door right before it swung open to reveal Hildur and a rather out of breath Warrick. Had he run there and back?
At Alistair's raised eyebrow, Warrick said, "The Warden-Commander was halfway here already, Your Majesty." He bowed. "If you will excuse me, I will leave you to your meeting."
The door shut as Hildur took in each of their faces. Then she said, "I see you got the same message I did."
"That the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall has my brother's family locked up in their Circle? Yes. While I question Ser Varric's methods of delivery"—he paused momentarily as Anora plucked the letter from his fingers to read it for herself—"I don't question the messages they deliver."
"Varric?" Hildur frowned and then came up with a small, folded piece of paper from her belt pouch. "I got mine from Leliana. I was coming to ask you if you believed it, but that settles that. Two entirely different sources telling us the same thing? I think a trip to Kirkwall is in order." Determined anger flashed through her eyes, reminding the others exactly how formidable a warrior she was, and once again reinforcing in Alistair's mind that he never wanted to get on Hildur's actual bad side.
She handed him the paper for inspection, but he only gave it a cursory glance. He'd give it a real read-through later, when he'd had time to calm down and think of things other than showing Knight-Commander Meredith what it meant to hurt his family.
He looked up from the paper. "I'll send an army with you—"
Hildur gave him a firm shake of her head. "No. You aren't invading Kirkwall. You're freeing prisoners. Sending your whole army will make it look like the former and nothing like the latter. I'll just take most of my Wardens, whom I can muster quicker besides, and go get her and the kids back."
"You don't have to—"
"But I do. She's one of mine and so are those kids and Meredith doesn't get to keep them."
Relief swept through him. Even though he was ready—and was still planning on it—to muster Ferelden's army, readiness be damned, he'd known it would take too long to amass the appropriate numbers for an action, because even one day extra spent in the Gallows would be too long for the kids, and definitely too long for Líadan. "Thank you," he said to Hildur.
His statement was met with another firm nod. "We take care of our own."
The absolute certainty in Hildur's voice somehow made Alistair feel the tiniest bit better, because she was entirely capable of getting them back.
"Besides," Hildur continued, "if I go, I can do things you can't."
Teagan chuckled quietly.
"I'm going with you," said Nuala.
Hildur settled a measuring look on her, and apparently found whatever she was searching for. "All right. Get to the compound as soon as you can. We'll make sure you're kitted up and ready to go when we are."
No arguments there. Even Anora had nodded in agreement, and Alistair couldn't deny that the children would need her once they were out. Líadan would need Nuala too, as good as friends as the two women were.
He didn't want to think of why the children would need Nuala if the worst had happened. But he couldn't get rid of the cold fear that dwelled in the bottom of his stomach, at what the restrictions and demands the templars and the Circle would put on Líadan, and how it would clash with her very nature.
They couldn't get her out of there soon enough.
"How long until you can leave?" Anora asked as she stopped pacing, her thoughts seemingly having followed the same line as Alistair's had.
Hildur tapped on her chin as she went through the figures. "It'll take two days to get to the Vigil. I'll send a rider tonight to start preparations, and have another rider sent from the Vigil to Amaranthine to tell the captains to ready the ships. I've a hundred Wardens at the Vigil, and another complement of thirty in Amaranthine. The Peak has fifty who are fit to go. I don't think I'll be able to get to the other outposts, not if I want to make good time in getting there, and we do need to leave enough Wardens just in case the darkspawn decide to be stupider than usual. I'll take all the Wardens in Denerim except for whoever is willing to stay behind to teach your sons—"
"I can do that," said Connor.
He'd been so quiet that Alistair had forgotten he was still there.
When everyone turned to look at the young man, he the intensity of the sudden attention seemed to surprise him, but he gamely maintained his composure. "I passed my Harrowing, which means I'm a full Enchanter, and therefore allowed to take on students. Working with your sons and Rowan won't be for terribly long anyway, and it will free up another Warden to go to Kirkwall."
"I believe it a good idea," said Anora.
"I agree," said Alistair. "We'd be happy to have your aid, Connor. Thank you." After Connor inclined his head, Alistair returned to Hildur. "Any luck in contacting my brother?"
Behind him, Teagan groaned. "Perhaps we should wait to inform him, if possible, since he might simply lose his mind and attempt to mount a frontal assault on the Gallows."
Then there was the light thump of Nuala punching Teagan on the arm. "He would not. Well, maybe not at first. It doesn't matter either way. It's his family in there, so he has to know."
Teagan sighed. "I know."
"Doesn't matter, because I doubt we could get to him in time in the first place," said Hildur, who seemed to look more irritated than she had before, which Alistair hadn't thought possible.
He thought about asking why, but the deepening of her irritation had him hesitating.
Anora, of course, felt no such hesitancy. "Why is that?"
"He's in the Deep Roads. It's how he left Val Royeaux. He's most likely heading to Kirkwall, but might detour to Orzammar." Hildur's scowl remained, directed at the long-departed second messenger. "The letter didn't mention anyone else with him other than Wynne and Shale, or what reason they had for leaving the city through the Deep Roads instead of by ship or road like any sane person would do. She was kind enough to return Malcolm's horse and the Warden horse Wynne had borrowed. Sent a Seeker of hers along with them, but he only stayed long enough to see the letter into my hands. As soon as I looked down at the sodding seal, he was gone. So I've got a Warden unreachable in the Deep Roads when he's rather needed up here on the surface." She waved off Alistair's next question. "I already sent a message to Orzammar. Once Natia and Leske get it, they'll send out a group of Wardens to find him and bring him home."
"Might need a battalion of the Legion if he's determined to go to Kirkwall," said Alistair. He'd be that determined if it were his wife and children in the Gallows. Maker, it was his sister-in-law and niece and nephew and it was really only Anora's looks keeping him from bolting out the door and to the harbor.
"No worries about that. I made sure to mention in the message that the party they send out should have at least two mages. They'll petrify his arse and carry him back if they have to."
"No one could ever fault you for your ability to plan ahead," said Anora.
That got a genuine smile out of Hildur. "I know my Wardens, that's all." Then she looked between each of them, searching for more questions. When none were voiced, she nodded. "Right, so all the Denerim Wardens are going with me. That's another fifty. We'll sail from here to Amaranthine to meet up with the other Warden ships, and from there we'll sail to Kirkwall. I think it'll be four days until our ships can leave Amaranthine. I can muster my Wardens here and be heading for Amaranthine by the day after tomorrow, if I can get to preparations immediately."
Her hint was more than obvious, clubbing him over the head as it had. "By all means, go ahead," said Alistair.
She took a step toward the door before turning quickly to him. "Stop by the compound later if you want an update. I'm not going to waste time by visiting you here, not when you've got your own two long legs to get you down to the compound, Warden."
He smiled, surprised she'd managed to get one out of him.
The smile returned from her was tight with the work ahead, including the revenge to exact. Then she left, and Alistair was left scrabbling at something he could do about Líadan's situation. Hildur held the purpose along with the ability, while he had—sod it, he was a King. A King with a Landsmeet as ornery and loyal as he was, and if he'd managed to rally them during the Blight, he could rally them now. If Hildur couldn't bring them home, he'd be ready to march.
"If she doesn't come back with Líadan and the children," he said to the three others left in the room, "we'll be scraping up whatever army and navy we've got at hand and get them back." He held up a hand to forestall Anora's assured objection. "No, don't even say anything about how the army isn't ready or how Cauthrien would recommend making a better strategic assessment or how Ferelden can't fight the Chantry right now, because, frankly, I don't give a single shit about that right now." He paused to reconsider, grasping at his humor so he didn't go shouting and stomping around like a child. "Well, maybe one shit since Hildur's taking her force first. After that, we're going after them with whatever we have, even if it might not be enough, because I'm not going to let this stand."
Anora gently placed her hand on his forearm. "Cauthrien would agree with you, and so do I. Between our own children and Malcolm's family, there is no choice left to us but to act."
"Is she in Denerim yet?" asked Teagan.
"She was scheduled to arrive today, though I haven't yet heard if she has."
Alistair opened the door and found Warrick waiting patiently outside. Good man. "Send a messenger to Teyrna Cauthrien, telling her to meet with us as soon as she's able. Send messengers to other members of the Bannorn that the Landsmeet will begin early, as in tomorrow morning kind of early." He glanced behind him, toward Anora. "Is Fergus in the city yet?"
"I believe he and Meghan came in some time today, yes."
He returned to Warrick. "Send for them right away." Alistair suspected Fergus would react as he had, and quite possibly would need to be physically restrained from going to Kirkwall himself, right then and there. A third of Ferelden's navy called Highever its port, so it really wouldn't take Fergus terribly long to gather troops and go, especially considering Highever's exceptional loyalty to their teyrn and his family.
During the brief respite, Alistair sent Connor to help watch over the children, because the three of them tended to get over-excited when playing together, and three over-excited tiny mages could yield disastrous results.
As for Fergus, just in case physical restraint did become a necessity, Alistair had Teagan stay, along with Nuala and Anora, all of whom had the ability to help.
Alistair's prediction wasn't wrong.
"They did what?" Fergus shouted immediately upon being informed, abandoning the seat he'd reluctantly taken only moments before.
"Judging from your reaction, I believe you heard correctly the first time," said Anora.
Fergus shot her a dirty look, having caught the chastisement beneath her even tone. Then he asked, "So when are we leaving to get them back?"
"Warden-Commander Hildur is taking a few ships full of Wardens to retrieve her unlawfully held Warden and said Warden's two children," said Anora.
Nuala, in a show of the special position and relationship she had with the royal family, rolled her eyes at the Queen's response. Then she provided Fergus with her own explanation. "She's going to tell them what's what with her pointy weapons, and if they don't listen, she'll use those weapons and get our family back. And if she won't do it, I will, because I'm going with them."
Fergus gave her a small smile. "I think I like your version better. Including the going with them, because I should go, too."
"No," said Meghan. Then, without even needing to consult with Alistair or Anora, she then gave him the same explanation for warranting waiting that Hildur had given Alistair a short time before.
He scowled the entire time, baleful looks occasionally thrown in the vague direction of Kirkwall, even muttering under his breath a few times. "Malcolm doesn't know, does he?" he asked, and then immediately waved off any forthcoming answers. "No, he can't. Not wherever he is on that Warden mission we all said he needed to go on, and meanwhile his family's been captured and he has no idea. And being held captive isn't the worst thing that could happen to them—could have happened to them—and we can't just have him coming back to find them gone." His eyes flicked over to Meghan, the two of them briefly sharing a pain so few knew, and then he looked directly at Alistair. "It's happened to me. I can't let the same thing happen to him."
"We aren't going to. We're not going to let that happen." They weren't. Alistair believed it with the same strength of faith he'd once felt when he viewed the urn holding the ashes of Andraste.
"Then why are we standing around here? Why aren't we doing something?" Fergus gave up on his façade of calm, and began to pace.
Then again, Alistair felt it was more stalking than pacing. Líadan tended to do the same thing, and he felt the anger surge all over again because she wasn't there with them. And part of that, he couldn't forget, was his fault.
"Why wait for a Landsmeet in the morning?" Fergus asked without halting. "Call one now. I can't think of a single member of the nobility who wouldn't readily approve of Ferelden going and getting them back. Even if they're angry with her because of what they've been made to believe about why she left, that hasn't stopped everyone from loving her because she's one of the heroes of the Blight. She's one of ours, and for all that we, as a country, fight amongst ourselves, we take care of our own. We bully ourselves, but we don't let anyone bully us when we can help it. It's been years since the Blight. We can muster the sodding army and navy and tell the Chantry that they've gone too far and we've had enough and we aren't just going to leave our people at their mercy."
Fergus had always been the calm one between the three of them, and it shocked Alistair to see him this livid. He'd expected anger, because that much wasn't unreasonable, but this seemed more like Malcolm had been during the Blight, flying off the handle and abandoning reason. On the other hand, Alistair could see the reason in Fergus' words, and he believed some—all right, all—of them to be right. Then he recalled Fergus' words about not letting happen to Malcolm what happened to him and Alistair remembered how Fergus had lost his first wife and his first child, along with his parents, right at the beginning of the Blight. Fergus had left to go to war, leaving behind his family, supposedly safe and sound, but when he came home, they were gone. Not just gone, but dead and never to be seen again and the possibility that the same could happen to Malcolm's family wasn't a small one, and the tense anger began to fill Alistair's chest again.
On one of his passes by Meghan, she caught Fergus' hand in her own, halting him. She squeezed it, getting him to look at her, and he let out a long, shaky breath. He nodded at her, and then turned back to Alistair and Anora. "We have to get them back," he said again, his voice beginning to slide back into the calm, even tone he usually maintained.
"We know," said Anora.
Fergus nodded. "We have to be ready. If Hildur can't get them, we have to be ready to go the moment news gets to us. You'll have the Landsmeet behind you, I'm sure of it."
Behind him, Meghan nodded in agreement with her husband's assessment. Teagan indicated his assent, as well.
"I can speak with Shianni tonight," said Nuala. "We'll get the news out about the truth of why Líadan had to leave with the children."
"The moment the Landsmeet knows what really happened, they won't hesitate," said Teagan.
"No, they won't," said Fergus. "I'm not even sure they would if they didn't know the truth. Fereldan is Fereldan." He squeezed Meghan's hand again then resumed his pacing, which was truly pacing this time around. "Is there any way we can get word to Malcolm?"
"Hildur said…" Alistair sighed, knowing Fergus wouldn't like this answer, either. "Malcolm is apparently in the Deep Roads, so getting a message to him will be difficult. She's sent one, by way of Orzammar, to be delivered by a group of Wardens prepared to bring him here, but she isn't sure they'll find him in time."
"What's he doing in the Deep Roads? Hildur said he'd be in the Western Approach and Val Royeaux. She did not mention the Deep Roads."
"One does tend to find Wardens in the Deep Roads, you know."
Fergus halted, crossed his arms, and glared.
Right, so Fergus wasn't in for humor at the moment, Alistair noted. "We don't know why he's in the Deep Roads. As you said, it wasn't in the plans, so you know as much as Hildur or I do."
"This was supposed to keep them safe," Fergus said, but he directed it at the window, where he faced the setting sun instead of everyone inside the room behind him. "The only reason they endured this was to keep those children safe and they're very much not." He turned to face Alistair and Anora. "Once we get them home again, there won't be any question about them staying, will there?"
"None," said Anora. "None at all."
"There's something else you should know, something that we'll also be telling the Landsmeet tomorrow." Alistair waited until Fergus made eye contact before he said: "Dane and Callum are both mages."
Fergus' eyes widened slightly before darkening in a frown. "Well, that about cocks everything up, doesn't it?" His stalking resumed as Meghan blanched slightly at the language, but if Fergus noticed, he indicated nothing. Then he stopped and turned on his heel, his normally open, cheerful countenance having darkened further. "Is the change of plans regarding defying the Chantry because of Dane and Callum, and not really because of what's happened to Líadan and the children?"
Alistair wanted to say that of course it wasn't, but he also wasn't certain if it would be a lie. They'd decided on reversing their stance before they'd found out about Líadan's plight. It truly had been finding out about Dane and Callum's magic that had changed their minds. Líadan's imprisonment in the Gallows had simply added to the pile of reasons why they had to make a stand.
"I suppose that's answer enough," Fergus said when nothing was forthcoming. His jaw worked as he fought a temper Alistair hadn't realized Fergus possessed. "If you would excuse me, Your Majesties, I need some time to… come to terms with recent discoveries and our current circumstances." The words came out stiff, and each person in the room knew what Fergus really meant: he needed to get away from his monarchs before he said or did something inexcusable for what had and hadn't been done. "You can stay, if you want," he said quietly to Meghan. "I won't hold it against you. And they could probably use your advice."
Alistair was certain they could. Meghan knew the Chantry and its workings better than any of them, and they'd need to speak with her brother, as well. If the rumors about him retaking Starkhaven with a bloodless transfer of the throne were true, he'd be a powerful ally. However, it also held the potential of making him a powerful enemy, if he disagreed with their course of action.
Meghan nodded, briefly stroking her fingers over Fergus' cheek. "I will see you at home."
After a curt nod, Fergus strode from the room without another glance at Alistair or Anora. Teagan stared after him, his surprise clear at Fergus' behavior.
"He's good reason to be angry," said Nuala. "Thought I'd put that out there, before any of you disagreed out loud, because you shouldn't."
"It was the events as a whole that drove our decision," said Anora.
"No." Alistair sadly shook his head. "No. We decided as we watched our sons play a game using their magic. Líadan and her children being captured simply gave us more reasons to risk separation from the Chantry. It isn't honest to say otherwise."
"You will need to lay out a plan for what you will do if there is truly a schism between the Orlesian Chantry and Ferelden," said Meghan. "How the Chantry remaining here will be organized, who will be in charge, what will be taught—things such as those. People like routine and structure and familiarity, and the Chantry and its services provide that."
"We'll keep it the same," said Alistair. "There's no reason to change it. We can still recognize the Divine. We'll really only disagree about automatic the imprisonment of mages. That's all."
"I suspect it won't be the 'all' that you see it as," said Meghan. Then she glanced at the door where Fergus had gone, the concern on her face having shifted to him.
Alistair felt more than a little uncomfortable that she obviously wanted to speak with her husband, and yet believed they needed help badly enough to ignore her impulse and stay behind.
"If you would like to stay, I can go check on Fergus," said Teagan, and Alistair shot him a grateful look.
She nodded and he left, and then they settled in for a long talk about what Meghan could foresee in difficulties, and laying out their ideas for structure if they did separate from the main Chantry. It was certainly more complicated than Alistair had assumed, even from what he'd known from his time as a templar initiate. Meghan, however, had incredible insight and her view on the Chantry had softened over the years as she'd recognized the hard choices the various Grand Clerics had faced when it came to her plight. She and Grand Cleric Philippa had come to terms as the years passed, and had even struck up a sort of friendship. Philippa, Alistair suspected, had been making it up to Meghan for when she could not help her.
Their planning was broken only by the evening meal and seeing the children, and then they went back to planning. Teagan paid a brief visit after before returning to his own estate. Alistair and Anora continued strategizing with Meghan, papers and maps brought up from the library and spread out on a large table that they'd had brought in.
When Warrick knocked loudly on the door, they all jumped slightly at the intrusion. Warrick raised an almost amused eyebrow at their expressions, and then announced the presence of the Grand Cleric. He shut the door after her once she was in, and the rest of the people in the room rose to their feet.
"Your Grace," said Alistair. "It's good to see you, though I didn't know you kept such late hours." He did know that, actually, but had decided that putting out that speculation would bring better answers than anything direct. Philippa's face was pale, the only color being red drawn on the high points of her cheeks from where she'd apparently walked very fast through the chilly late autumn night.
"Your Grace?" Anora asked when Philippa didn't answer.
"What's wrong, Your Grace?" asked Meghan after Philippa didn't answer the Queen, either.
Philippa shook, rousing herself out of whatever trance had held her, and then her frantic eyes looked over at Alistair and Anora. "There's been… something horrible has happened in Val Royeaux." She extended her hand, which held a letter that had a seal of the Seekers of Truth dangling from it. "I can't—here. Please, read it, Your Majesties."
The third messenger. Later, the Grand Cleric would explain that it'd been a young templar who'd brought the message to her at Denerim's cathedral. The young templar had disappeared as soon as she'd glanced down at the envelope, never to be seen again.
Anora took the letter, and held it in such a way that allowed both her and Alistair to read it at the same time.
The First Enchanters who had gone to the White Spire for the meeting of the College of Enchanters had been massacred. The few who managed to escape had fled into the Deep Roads, the letter said, practically ensuring their deaths.
Well, Alistair thought after he repeated the news to Meghan, that certainly explained why Malcolm was in the Deep Roads.
"I do not know what this means," said Philippa.
It frightened Alistair a little, to see a Chantry leader so lost.
"It means," said Anora, "that we must wait to hear of the repercussions for the templar order and the Chantry. All we know for certain is that a great many people are dead."
"I will offer my prayers for them as I wait to hear from the Divine," said Philippa. "When I do, I will bring you the news."
"Thank you, Your Grace," said Alistair.
After the door had closed behind the Grand Cleric, Meghan said, "This just became messier than any of us had foreseen."
"What does it do to our plans?" asked Anora.
Meghan shrugged. "I can't predict anything at this point. What's happened is unprecedented. We'll have to do what you said: wait. It's all we can do. Wait, and prepare for the worst."
"No way around it." Alistair nodded at both of them. "I might as well go get an update from Hildur, and let her know how screwed up the Chantry has officially become." Then he left the women to hammer out a new plan—several, probably, knowing the two of them—and walked through the darkened palace to the Warden compound. His brother would be one to help mages escape death, even if it meant going into the Deep Roads. But if he'd managed to get more than a few out, the Deep Roads wouldn't be terribly hard provided they could find a detachment of the Legion. Malcolm and Shale could hold off darkspawn long enough to give the mages time to burn them all to ashes. That was the advantage of masses mages in the battlefield—they could kill everything in large numbers. It was almost unfair.
Yet, if his brother was heading to Kirkwall like Hildur's message had indicated, it meant Malcolm knew something about what was going on with his family. Hopefully, Wynne would be able to talk some sense into him. She'd done it many times in the long time they'd known her, and he doubted she'd ever stop.
Alistair entered the compound through the storage room, where an unassuming door connected the compound to the palace. It let him slip into the role of a Warden without the fanfare of being King, and he rather liked it. Despite the urgency of everything going on, he still felt his shoulders relax a little. Warden life was simpler, and though he'd become a good king, he still preferred being a Warden.
Upstairs, he encountered a rather loud argument ongoing in their great hall.
"Let me kill this Knight-Commander," he heard Nuala say.
As he stepped quietly into the room and leaned against the wall, appearing unobtrusive, Sigrun said, "No way, she's mine."
"I'll have lopped her sodding head off before either of you get to her," said Oghren.
"I think we'll have to draw lots," said Bethany.
Alistair wondered how many times she'd kept the peace between her brother and sister to be trying to keep the peace even now, when she was clearly as angry as the rest of the Wardens.
"As a former templar, I know the Knight-Commander's fighting methods," said Thierry. "I should be the one to do it."
"I'm faster than any of you," said Rhian.
"Líadan's Dalish," said Perran. "So I should be the one to exact revenge."
Hildur strode past Alistair, acknowledging him with a nod, and then put an end to the argument. "I outrank you all."
Oghren scowled. "Pulling rank is cheating."
"Go ahead," Hildur said as she crossed her arms, "ask me if I care."
"Oh, no, I'm not sodding falling for that."
With Oghren having conceded, the others offered up no additional arguments.
Hildur gave a satisfied nod, and then turned to Alistair. "Tomorrow afternoon," she said without him having to say why he was there. "Ahead of our so-called schedule."
"Good. Also, I came into a bit of extra information."
"Oh? Do share. I'm sure we'd all like to know."
After a sigh, Alistair relayed what he'd learned from the Grand Cleric, bringing another round of swearing, along with a round of sadness. Hildur, on her part, groused about Leliana having not mentioned the massacre or the reason for Malcolm being in the Deep Roads or any additional information about who'd escaped in her letter. Alistair held back from saying it was Leliana's thing, to only give the barest information she felt was needed. She was a lot like Morrigan in that respect, and if he ever told Morrigan or Leliana about the comparison, they'd both be insulted.
Be a fun fight to watch, though.
"You lot can stay here," Hildur said to her Wardens, "but I've got a new batch of messages to write and send." With a wave, she disappeared upstairs, into what had been Malcolm's office when he'd been in charge of the Denerim Wardens.
The rest slowly dispersed, offering apologies to Alistair that they couldn't get to Kirkwall faster, that he couldn't go with them, that any of this had happened at all. Oghren stayed, leaning against the barrels of ale in the far corner, but despite one being tapped, not drinking any of it. Obviously, Oghren had something to say, and Alistair was curious about what it was. Oghren could dispense a shocking amount of wisdom when sober.
Even once the rest of the Wardens had gone, it took a moment for Oghren to start into whatever he had to say. "Your two nuglets are them magic types?"
At first, Alistair was startled by the question. Then he realized he and Oghren hadn't spoken alone since before Dane and Callum's magic had been discovered. "It would appear so, yes."
There was a significant pause before Oghren asked, "So, how much an ass do you feel like? We talking a little bit, like some sort of pebble, or a lot, like a great big sodding paragon statue?"
"Second one." The paragon of asses, he thought sometimes, and Fergus had clearly agreed.
"Aye. Thought so, which means you're keeping 'em and not handing 'em over to them templars."
"Pretty much."
"Knew you'd see reason." Then Oghren waited until Alistair looked at him before saying, "Wish it hadn't taken you so sodding long, though."
Oghren hadn't said anything Alistair hadn't thought about himself, and so he simply accepted the admonishment for what it was. Then he couldn't help but feel jealous of Oghren, that he could go fix part of what Alistair had done wrong. That he could go get revenge and bring their friend and her children home.
"Don't come back without them," he said.
Oghren nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it. Elf should never be locked up in a place like that. She won't last, you and I both know it. Then they'd do things."
"Do things?"
"You know, that thing they do where they kill mages but don't?"
"Tranquility?"
"Yeah, that." Oghren's eyes darkened into a depth of anger Alistair hadn't seen in him in a long time, not since the Blight. "They do that, I kill them all." Then he gave the casks a long look before slapping the side of one and exiting the room.
Alistair stared after him, imagining the trail of blood and dead bodies a berserker like Oghren would leave behind if driven to that point. The Wardens, it seemed, held a lot of anger and resentment toward the Chantry. Alistair suspected the Landsmeet would share the same sentiment.
He wasn't wrong.
The next morning, before the Landsmeet could even be brought to a formal opening, the gathered nobility was, to use an Oghren term, rip-roaring pissed about Líadan and the children having been captured. Or, abducted, as more than one bann pointed out. Obviously, they had already heard—or figured out—the truth about why Líadan had left. If any of them had been upset by it, it fell far to the wayside in the face of her and the children being held by the Chantry. Others were angered that she'd been forced out of her own home because of the Chantry. At hearing the rife, almost comforting amount of anger filling the Landsmeet chamber, Alistair considered himself lucky that none of the others had taken off to perform their own rescue, especially when it came to Fergus.
He did note that Fergus stood in Highever's position in the upper gallery, Meghan next to him, her hand often drifting to his. Probably to keep him there, given the dark look on Fergus' face.
Alistair finally quieted the gathered nobility enough to officially start the Landsmeet, even though it'd been unofficially going on probably since dawn. "We've a few problems," he said after the official start.
"No shit," someone muttered. Probably Shianni, but she wasn't the only bann with a penchant for swearing when stating an obvious truth.
"Our problems are greater than what you already know," said Anora. "One being that neither Prince Dane nor Prince Callum will be able to inherit the throne."
"Mages?" asked Alfstanna. Of course the bann who had a templar brother had immediately recognized the reason why. "Both of them?"
"Unfortunately," said Anora, not without some sadness.
"I don't like the idea of the Chantry having control of them," said Ceorlic.
Ceorlic the Younger, Alistair had to remind himself. He'd been a good man over the years, very unlike his father and grandfather. Though Alistair still wished he'd change the name, while Ceorlic kept on about it being a family name. Once, when Alistair had pushed his agenda a little too hard, Ceorlic had said, "For someone with a surname no better than 'theirin,' you're throwing awfully big rocks regarding funny sounding family names."
"He's got you there," Malcolm had said.
It really hadn't helped that the two of them had been right. "You're supposed to be on my side," he'd told his brother. "You said his name sounds like a medical condition."
"Doesn't change that our name is a formal adverb."
The memory reminded Alistair of two things: he really missed his brother, and his brother was going to be incredibly pissed when he found out what'd happened.
"Neither do I," said Cauthrien, which reminded Alistair that there was an incredibly important Landsmeet going on.
"As the sun rises in the east each morning, your mistrust of Orlais and the Chantry hold true," said Wulff. "Not that the same doesn't reside in each of us. I doubt anyone here likes the idea of the Chantry holding them."
"Well, we've got a few ideas about that," said Alistair. "Possibly some plans. The Chantry probably won't like them, but as long as you are all in agreement with them, I feel confident enough we can make it work. But that's something we can talk about later, once we've cleared up other matters."
"Why not now?" asked Sighard. "It's why we're here, among other things. I think it's fairly important we hammer out as many details as possible, as soon as we can. Once the Chantry finds out about your boys, things will get ugly."
"I think locating the last eligible heir to the throne has become incredibly urgent," said Wulff.
"It's more urgent than you realize," said Alistair, knowing he had to confirm the rumors that already had served to rile up the nobility. "Let me preface this by saying that my brother's wife didn't actually leave him. Well, not like many have been led to believe, anyway."
"So the rumors are true," said someone in the upper gallery.
"Their littlest one turned out a mage, too, didn't she?" asked Alfstanna, sounding even more sad than she had before.
"And Líadan was bringing her to the Dalish for instruction," said Shianni. Some of the other nobles raised eyebrows at the confidence of her statement. Shianni shrugged, entirely unaffected. "My cousin was—is—their nurse. You think I wouldn't know?"
"She makes a good point," said Teagan.
Sighard frowned. "And Líadan took Prince Cáel because of what happened when the Seekers were here years ago, when they tried to take him."
Dark grumbles in the crowd followed his statement. Like Alistair and Anora, they could still taste the bitterness those actions and the hurt they'd had left in their mouths.
"Yes," Anora said after a moment. "It was the only way to assure his safety when we hadn't yet assessed the full status of the army."
"Which means," said Cauthrien, "they were forced out of their own home because of the Chantry."
The grumbles about the Chantry increased.
"And do you know where they are now? Are those rumors true? If they are, I see no reason not to bring them back. By force, if necessary," said Ceorlic.
"We weren't supposed to know, obviously, but we do," said Alistair, knowing the Landsmeet would erupt the moment he confirmed those particular rumors. Not that he wasn't several levels beyond incensed himself, but the Landsmeet could leap beyond even that. "Both Warden-Commander Hildur and I have received messages informing us that Knight-Commander Meredith in Kirkwall is holding all three of them—Líadan, Cáel, and Ava—in Kirkwall's Circle." He supposed he could've used their titles, but they were his family, and he saw no point. Not here, not with everything having become so personal, even to the Landsmeet.
"They're in the Gallows?" asked Alfstanna.
"Yes," said Anora.
"Then why hasn't the navy been dispatched, ships loaded with Fereldan troops to take them back? I could have started on that yesterday!"
Sometimes, Alistair felt a deep and abiding love for his country and people. This was one of those times. "Because Warden-Commander Hildur is taking a few ships full of Grey Wardens, instead. Líadan is a Warden, meaning Hildur can do anything she wants to get them back, and the Chantry can't do anything about it. Well, they could, but according to their own treaties, they'd be wrong." Not that it'd stopped them before, but if the Chantry decided to fight back, Hildur's complement of a couple hundred Wardens was more than capable of putting them in their place.
"Does Malcolm know any of this?" asked Sighard, his hands practically strangling the gallery's rail in front of him.
"Not that we are aware," said Anora. "The last we heard, he was on his way to Kirkwall or Orzammar via the Deep Roads. Warden-Commander Hildur did send a message to him by way of the Orzammar Wardens, but it could take some time for them to find him."
"Why the Deep Roads?" asked Shianni.
"You've heard that rumor about what happened to the College of Enchanters at the White Spire?" Then Alistair waited for Shianni to nod before he continued, "Malcolm was somehow involved with that, along with Senior Enchanter Wynne and First Enchanter Irving. We aren't sure if Irving lived, but we have confirmation that Wynne and Malcolm are alive, along with some of the mages who were at the conclave. With Malcolm's help, they escaped into the Deep Roads." He didn't mention that Leliana had been one of the sources of the information—the Landsmeet still had huge issues related to her, not that Alistair himself didn't. "Their plan, we assume, is to find a company of the Legion of the Dead and get safely to Orzammar. We aren't sure if Malcolm was going to go with them to Orzammar or set out to Kirkwall through the Deep Roads. If he does that, hopefully he'll bring a detachment of the Legion." Because trying to go by himself would be stupid.
"While I have every confidence in Warden-Commander Hildur," said Fergus, "we need to prepare in case she doesn't succeed. I will not stand for my brother's family to be kept prisoner, and neither should any of you."
Anora waited through several declarations of the same before she said, "We are in full agreement. However, such a divisive action, coupled with our unwillingness to turn Dane and Callum over to the Chantry, carries the high probability of separating us from the Chantry by incurring the anger of the Divine."
"Sod the Divine," said Shianni.
Cauthrien nodded. "We shouldn't allow them to force our people from their homes. Not any longer. We shall prepare and plan to assure our independence from this point forward."
The Landsmeet agreed.