9:31 Dragon, Autumn

Goran Vael never moved very fast. Most of the time that Samantha had spent with him, she hadn't seen him move very much at all, so it came as somewhat of a surprise to see him jump to his feet so quickly.

He had been seated in the Prince of Starkhaven's chair at the head of the table in the Grand Room. It was called Grand not for the lavish decorations, but because grand things tended to happen there.

When the famed elven Grey Warden Garahel came through to call the bannermen of the Free Marches during the Fourth Blight, he had called those banners from this room. When the last Champion of Starkhaven was named, it had been done in this room. When the former Prince of Starkhaven had exiled his own son, Sebastian, to the Chantry in Kirkwall, he had done so from this room.

Samantha had initially gone to the Justice Building to speak to the Special Council on the Restoration of Starkhaven—a group of men and women elected by the Starkhaven Council to deal with land disputes and advise on courses of action—but she never got a chance to tell them why she had come. She had only gotten as far as her name before they all jumped to their feet in recognition of the fiancé to the late prince's nephew. At first, they were beside themselves with sympathy, but then she was ushered through a series of hallways and found herself in the Grand Room, a place which she found intimidating. Goran sat slouched in the Prince of Starkhaven's chair, but upon the sight of her, he had jumped to his feet faster than she'd thought he was capable of doing.

He blinked a few times, a little slow to react but nevertheless intent as he walked around the enormous round table. Roughly a dozen women and men in various forms of formal business attire were seated at it, rummaging through mountainous stacks of paper and quills. Goran clasped Samantha's hands into his own, which weren't as clammy as she always imagined, but rather soft. Soft like someone who had never held a sword. Soft like a lady's hands.

It had been more than a year since she had really seen much of Goran, and more than three years since she gotten a good look at him. Whether it was during Chantry service or at some formal event, he was always far away, but now up close she could see that the years had changed him. Where Corbinian was masculine and handsome, Goran had a unique, striking beauty that seemed at once effeminate and dangerous. He had been a pudgy kid, but now as a man in his early twenties, he had grown into his body. He was solid, yet svelte; tall and strong like a Vael, but graceful like his mother.

"You live," he said softly.

"So do you," she answered.

He was completely ignoring Keis, who stood rigidly in the doorway, but so was Samantha. She was absorbed in his eyes – those Vael-blue eyes that she knew so well. He looked right into her and she could see her own sadness reflected back; he had lost his whole family, too.

He didn't blink. "Whatever it is that you need, you can have."

"I want my family's estate."

"Done."

"Er—" A spindly man with long, red hair stood up and spoke slowly. "Your Highness, there are channels to go through. Documents. Procedure. This is a matter for the Council."

"Oh." Goran seemed disappointed, but he didn't argue.

"But I have been waiting for eight months," Samantha complained to the man, not really knowing who to talk to anymore. "It's my estate. I am the heir. My uncle wouldn't want it!" And I don't want to live with the Garritys forever, she added silently.

"Yes, well," the man answered awkwardly. "You have to understand how this works. We can't just give it back. You have to petition, and we have to review it. There's a waiting period for matters of wills and inheritance. You will be assigned a liaison, but be warned, we are backed up quite a ways—"

"I was nearly killed!" Samantha began to forget her manners through her still-tender grief. "My home was taken away and I just want it back!"

"It's how these things are done," the man said gently, but he clearly wasn't a gentle man.

"Put her at the top of the list," Goran said to the man, who nodded in triumph and sat back down. The prince then turned back to Samantha, still holding her hands. "Where are you staying?"

"With Lord Garrity."

"Oh, right." He seemed confused by that, and then turned back to the table full of bureaucrats. "Can you finish without me?"

They all nodded their heads wearily. Some of them were pinching the bridge of their noses and removing their glasses as if they were used to this abandonment, but Goran didn't seem to care.

He should have offered her his elbow as propriety would demand, but he held her hand instead as he led her from the room, through a series of hallways, through the Main Hall of the Justice Building and into the crisp autumn afternoon. They traveled through Starkhaven's streets without a word, and Samantha didn't try to speak, too distracted by the gawking onlookers. Entire groups, many of them families that she knew, stopped in mid-conversation to bow and curtsey as the prince passed, shifting their gazes to her curiously and then putting their heads together in whispered gossip.

Finally, they turned on a familiar path and Samantha saw the palace gates looming ahead.

"Where are we going?" she asked nervously.

"I can't stand it in that building," he muttered in answer. "It's so stuffy. There's no light."

He led her through the wrought iron gates, where the ivy crept up the bars, and through the enormous double doors into the main hallway of the palace, where the ceiling hovered in darkness three floors above them. Goran didn't stop as he led her up a flight of stairs and through another series of hallways that alternated between darkness and light cast from the windows. The dust that puffed up from their passing made Samantha sneeze; these evidently weren't well-traveled corridors.

Eventually, they turned into a giant room that looked very much like Samantha's mother's sitting room, but with much nicer furnishings. She remembered her mother's green chairs with pink cushions. Lemon cakes and sterling silver tea pots. Sheer curtains that were always closed, hiding the Tyler Estate's rhododendron bushes. But in this room, the single large window along the far wall had its curtains drawn back, letting in a stream of soft sunshine. Samantha wandered over, squinting through the yellow light to see the Royal Gardens, and in perfect view was the giant fountain surrounded by calla lilies – Goran's mother's favorite flower. But the lilies were wilting under the autumn sunshine, and Samantha wondered if there anything left in the world that didn't die.

"I read the report," Goran said, gesturing to one of the sofas that lined the walls. It was the standard conversation-starter these days, as if everyone wanted Samantha to know that she didn't need to recount what had happened. Or perhaps that they understood something, as if reading a written account and understanding what happened were the same thing. But Goran wasn't just anyone. He was the prince. He was also Corbinian's brother. "You saw Beenie?"

She nodded and the hope in his face made her heart ache. How was she going to live without her Beenie? It wasn't the first time that thought had occurred.

"The report said…" He paused, taking a breath and sitting down beside her. "Well, it said you saw him, but he looked funny."

She nodded again. In between fits of despair, she had told the Templars that Corbinian had been standing at the door, his expression blank and his skin ashen, which was true. But in the haze of her memory, she could clearly see those eyes, metallic and swirling... and then the laugh. She'd told the Templars, but the questions that followed had no answers. She hadn't known what it was, and she hadn't been able to tell what it was doing.

She hadn't seen anything else.

"The Templars think he was in the possession of a demon." Goran's voice thinned out before he started shaking his head, little vibrations like a leaf in the wind. "But I just… Not Beenie."

Samantha hesitated, not wanting to talk about this. "I don't know what it was."

He didn't seem to have heard her. "Whatever it was, he's likely fighting it right now. I've sent out a group of guards – as many as Starkhaven can spare – and they are looking for him."

Was it foolish to hope he was still alive? After all, they had thought Samantha was dead and she wasn't. Goran seemed so certain, but Samantha feared that holding on to the hope of Corbinian's survival was too risky. She couldn't lose him again. Once in a lifetime was enough.

"I know him," was all Goran said before he let go of her hands.

He rose from the sofa, traveling the length of the room to a desk, and opened up a drawer. For a fleeting moment, she thought maybe he had found her locket, but instead he lifted out a seal.

He walked back and pressed it into her palm. "Show this to any guard, anywhere in the city, and they will bring you here. Show it to anyone in the palace, and you will be allowed entry in any room. I want you to move in."

She felt a bout of panic. This house. Full of ghosts.

Goran scrunched his brows together, a common gesture for him. "There's plenty of room, and Keis will be able to keep an eye on you more easily from here."

"That's very kind of you, Goran—"

He was so intent. "You are still my family."

Family. The way he said it sent flutters through her stomach, but she didn't want to cry in front of him.

"But the Garritys—"

"They can't protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

From the way his eyes shifted, she knew what was coming was not the whole truth. "You've been through a lot, and your parents' murderer has not been caught…"

He meant Innley, of course, and though she understood that the delicate nature of her loss made him refrain from saying the name, a pang of sorrow echoed through her chest nonetheless. She swallowed, trying to hide her torment. "I'm fine there."

He seemed disappointed, but said, "Samantha, Beenie loved you. I know that you may not be ready yet, but someday soon, I want you to come and live here. Think about a date." He paused, smiling weakly. "It'd be nice to have a family again."

Did he need her to come here for her safety or for his comfort? He seemed so insistent, so determined, and because she didn't know him very well, she found it hard to gauge his intentions.

"Maybe spring…" She wasn't sure about that, but looking at his eyes revived memories of one other place where she could truly see Corbinian's eyes once more. "Would you mind… if maybe I could… see those paintings in the hallway?"

Goran looked puzzled again. "You want to see the paintings of my parents?"

"No." She actually smiled a little at his confusion. "I like those paintings in the hallway of your family's wing. Of Beenie."

This prompted a very unusual response, for she had never seen Goran smile so widely. "You want to see my paintings?"

Samantha opened her mouth but nothing came out for a few seconds. "Your paintings?"

"Yes, I painted those." He took her hand again and led her out of the room and down another hallway. "I used to paint my mother, but my father put a stop to that when I was thirteen. So, the best I could do was my brother. I used to make him sit for me, because I couldn't get anyone else to."

That made no sense at all to her. "You couldn't find a model?"

"My father didn't want me to paint," he answered bitterly. "He wanted me to take up something else. Here we are." They rounded a corner and came into the hallway with the portraits.

And there he was. Corbinian's skin was so tanned and his hair was so thick and of course his eyes were so blue that it burned like a branding iron on her heart. They jumped out from each painting, one after the other, between jagged lines and streaks and smears and delicately placed curves and angles. He was there. And there. And there.

Samantha wanted to melt into the wall to be with the Corbinians who smiled devilishly from inside the picture frames. Like some daily ritual, her tears arrived without flourish, sliding down her cheeks. She couldn't have helped it even if she'd wanted to.

"Corbinian liked them, too," Goran said quietly, leaning against the opposite wall.

"He never said that you painted them," Samantha said distantly.

"He covered for me. Father said that Vaels do practical things. This isn't practical."

She brushed the tears away. "They are beautiful."

"Every year it was something new." There was anger in his voice. "Drawing buildings, designing carts for hauling or weapons like catapults. He figured if I could draw, then I should use that elsewhere. One year, I was asked to draw a design for a new Circle Tower." He let out a scoff. "Maybe I should dig that picture out."

Samantha took a good look at him; he seemed so sad, so alone. It was like she had never known Goran at all. She sniffled again, bringing out a small handkerchief, because she realized that he wasn't going to give her one like he should have. That was when she saw it, just down the hallway: a ray of light streaming through the doorway, as if the Maker was calling to her.

"Goran." She licked her lips. "May I…?" And she gestured down the hallway.

Goran blinked back whatever tears he was fighting and turned to follow her gaze. A moment passed before he realized what she was asking. "Oh. Yes. Of course."

When she had traveled slowly down the hallway to find her parents experiencing demonic torture, Samantha had had no idea what she was walking into, and now—although she knew where she was heading this time—she moved slowly all the same. Without even asking, she reached out and grabbed Goran's arm, leaning on him for support, and he accepted it. He seemed to be used to accepting whatever was given to him.

Corbinian's room was just the same. Blue. The lute. The rug. The pine flooring. The only noticeable difference was that the mounted sword on the wall was missing. Samantha had a sudden flash of Corbinian fighting like mad, swinging a sword in fluid motions upwards and downwards, spinning around and thrusting a shield out—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a man who appeared in the doorway. It was a different man from the spindly redhead, but he was just the same; another bland bureaucrat with an agenda, hiding behind his mask of politeness.

"Your Highness, so sorry to interrupt, but I need a word."

"Right. Make yourself at home, Samantha." Goran let go of her and turned abruptly to follow the man down the hallway.

She was left alone in Corbinian's room. A fine layer of dust blanketed everything like snow and the sunlight that streamed in from the window revealed the tiny specks floating in the stagnant air. Even the lute had a layer of dust on it.

My new weapon of choice.

It all felt like such a waste. Covered in dust and left untouched. A life halted in mid-stride. The sun was starting to set outside the window and it felt as if she had just been here yesterday.

Pretend sleep. Just for a short time before it's totally dark out and then I'll take you home. Here, I'll open the curtains so we can see when the sun sets.

Her eyes landed upon a small box that sat upon his bureau, and when she cracked open the lid, she saw his engagement ring sitting silently inside.

Vaels don't die.

It didn't feel fair. She had a life and someone with whom to share it. A best friend and a million tangible dreams. She looked back at the bed, remembering the feel of his body against hers, and her movements were mindless as she removed her shoes and pulled back the blanket, sliding between the sheets. She remembered feeling his breath in her hair. His hand across her hips. The warmth. Like her own personal hearth.

It's my wild passionate feelings for you, Sammie.

No. It definitely wasn't fair.

She didn't know how long she slept, but the sun had set by the time she woke up. She could have slept longer, but voices that drifted down the hallway had interrupted her blessedly dreamless sleep, and now she felt a little embarrassed. Falling asleep in Corbinian's room while visiting with his brother...! She wondered if Goran had returned to find her sleeping and just left her there.

The voices were tight and strained, like two men were arguing. Samantha didn't mean to hear what she heard, but the strange, empty state of the Royal Palace had created echoing corridors and the conversation slipped into the room as if she was a part of it.

"She has done a lot for you." The first man sounded like a Marcher, but there was something else behind his accent, like it had been softened from living outside the Free Marches for a long time.

"She murdered my family!" That was Goran Vael on the brink of losing control.

"She spared your life and this is not a nice way to repay her kindness."

"Kindness? She's been trying to order me around just like my father! Well, I'm not my father's son anymore. She'll find that out soon enough."

"It isn't wise to make the Lady mad," the man warned. "She has already proven what she is capable of."

"Ahh, that she has, Serah Flint," Goran responded with his own threatening tone. "And I know your men lurk in the shadows waiting to kill me at her order. Just like you did to my family. She thinks that she did me some favor by sparing me, but it was no kindness." Goran appeared to be having a hard time not yelling. "I've let you bully me and I've let her threaten me. No more."

There was a shuffling of heavy footsteps clinking with metal but eventually Goran's voice broke through.

"I'm not that scared boy in the closet anymore. I'm the Prince of Starkhaven with a Royal Army now and I am not afraid of you." He was breathing heavily and when he spoke next, it was to the guards. "Take him to the dungeons, and inform the Royal Guard that it's open season on his men."

"You're making a mistake—!" There was another shuffling of footsteps and metal clinking, this time with a few grunts, and Samantha recognized the sounds as guards hauling the man named Flint away.

Goran spoke one final time. "Keis, cut off his head and have it sent to Kirkwall. Let's see if the Lady considers that a kindness."