9:38 Dragon, Spring Part III of III
"Seize the exile and the oath-taker!"
Samantha nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Goran's voice. She was so entranced by the guests on the other side of the gates that she had lost track of those who remained near her, namely Knight Commander Rayce—who still had his gloved hand on her shoulder—and the screaming throngs of gawkers behind her shouting myriad unintelligible things. She scoured the crowd, but instead of finding Goran, she spotted Sophine. Rylan was at her side, his meaty hands upon her slender shoulders, and he looked entirely displeased that Samantha wasn't at his side, too. Sophine must have known what Samantha was looking for and pointed upwards. Samantha followed her finger to the parapets above. She had to bring a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, trying to see Goran on the ledge. She couldn't.
"By law, the exile may not return to the city," she heard Goran shout. "And Oath-takers are honor-bound to remain in Starkhaven. If any should leave, they face serious crimes."
Samantha felt a bout of panic – what was this? What was Goran doing? She looked back to Corbinian, but saw that he was smiling – smiling! With all the warmth of the Maker's sun! She barely noticed the others, but sound of Sebastian's horse turned Samantha's attention back to him and his companions. The exiled Vael was staring at the prince solemnly, the elf watched Goran with an expression that could only be described as tedium, as if he wanted to get past all this talking and down to the business of fighting it out. The crowd grumbled in confusion, and some of them called out that Corbinian didn't break the Oath, while others demanded to know where he had been and why he had returned now. But it was Flora who seemed unprepared; she momentarily lost control of her horse, who had whinnied. She was gaping at Goran openly, her smooth cheeks stretched taut over her high cheekbones.
Samantha had half-expected Flora to look weathered and wrinkled, her body changed by her decision to focus on archery, but her skin looked flawless, tanned and glowing and beautiful! Perhaps she hadn't transitioned out of luxury just yet? The heir to the now-defunct Harimann estate was as lovely as ever. Samantha supposed that it had been quite some time since Flora had seen Goran, and he had grown into a man in her absence.
Tall and lean, Goran towered above most, but it wasn't brute strength he exuded, rather grace. She imagined his intense scowl directed down at the group, his angular jaw set and his posture stiff. Samantha thought that, perhaps ironically, he and Flora would have made quite the handsome pair.
Goran then said, "The exile and oath-taker will be allowed to speak in their defense. To me and to the council in a public forum. Until then, take them to the royal dungeons to await their fate." And then he awkwardly added: "Er, take my cousin's... guests to the guest quarters in the palace. They shall receive no ill treatment."
There was a pause and the entirety of Starkhaven seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the guards to take action. The guards barely glanced at each other before one of the captains stepped into the clearing between Sebastian and Corbinian.
He said, "You will lay down your arms and come with me."
Without consideration for its welfare, Corbinian threw his sword into the dirt. Of course, it wasn't his sword, One-Cut. That sword, in all its mangled glory, was hanging on the wall in Corbinian's room. Sebastian did not react as quickly, and Corbinian looked to him expectantly. The exiled Vael rankled a little, glancing back at Flora and the elf – whyever for, Samantha didn't really know. She imagined he was gauging whether or not he could forcibly prevent his capture – of course, he couldn't. Slowly, he removed his bow from his shoulders and gently placed it in the dirt. It was then that the guards gingerly wrapped their armored hands around Sebastian's and Corbinian's arms, leading them both away from Samantha's view, and she lamented that she hadn't been able to really look at her Beenie, to talk to him, to touch him. Before she saw where Flora and the elf went, she ran out from underneath Ser Rayce's gloved hand and nearly crashed into a frowning and heavily-armored guard.
"Rylan!" Samantha reached for his armor plating and gripped the chestpiece. "Take me to the palace! Now!"
"Oh, now I can escort you to the palace?" Rylan asked scornfully, muttering a curse to the Maker before he took her by the wrist and lead both her and Sophine through the crowd. She figured that she had put him through enough for the day without adding to it by antagonizing him further.
Samantha turned around to Sophine giddily. "Did you see?" she asked her friend. "Did you see?"
But Sophine had seen nothing from behind the guards, and so Samantha filled her in as best she could in between her own elated gasps – Corbinian had returned to Starkhaven! He was alive!
Vayan's Park had never been so filled with people, and as Samantha was dragged past the statue of Corin the Grey Warden, she heard someone say "I knew the Marquess would come back." Another asked, "Do you believe what the exile said?" to which someone replied, "Goran's a better prince than that exile would ever be." She granted a fleeting glance at Corin's bronze likeness as she passed, and the way he knelt, holding his sword to the Heavens, made Samantha wonder if the Maker had anything to do with this blessed turn of events or if it was the work of women and men.
Samantha hadn't spent much time with the common folk lately, and she was pleasantly surprised to hear their positive comments about Goran. Maybe the nobility liked to gossip about the young Vael, but then again, they liked to talk poorly about everyone. Samantha had to consider that it wasn't the nobility Goran had worked to serve in his years as prince. Instead, he had worked to restore order to city, rebuild the Circle, strengthen the guard, and all of that meant jobs for the lower class and protection for business owners – the very people who were flooding the streets at that moment.
By the time they reached the palace, Samantha had become impossible to deal with. She nagged Rylan to hurry, she chattered incessantly to Sophine, and she fussed with the servants about her attire—she didn't care that her dress had dozens of little snags from her tree-climb, that her shoes were missing from her hasty escape from the chantry, or that her hair had fallen from its dressings. All she cared about was that her Beenie was inside this palace! He was home! She tried to remember her courtesies to the servants and the guards, but once free from their fussing, she took off running through the darkened corridors, trying to remember how to get to the Royal Dungeons. She barely noticed Sophine in her shadow.
She turned this way and that, laughing with Sophine as she ran into dead ends, giddily apologizing to the maids who jumped out of her way, nearly dropping their stacks of crisp white linens.
It wasn't until they passed a hallway in which voices were floating about that they stopped. As impatient as she was to get to the basement, Samantha halted in her tracks.
She heard Flora.
As Samantha approached the large wooden doors, the four guards outside the room nodded to her. She supposed that meant she could go inside.
"Goran is as stubborn as a mule and about as dim. He chased after me for years and never got the hint. The Council will see reason."
"But will the people?" the elf asked, his voice impossibly deep. "They seemed quite fond of him."
"The people don't matter," Flora said. "They just like a spectacle."
As old as they are, doors at the Royal Palace doors don't creak as a matter of snobbery, and so Flora was still going on with her tirade once Samantha had opened the door. The elf with the strange tattoos had to poke Flora to halt her lofty rant, and Samantha gave her a disappointed glare from the doorway. Who was she to come back here after all these years and judge Goran? The man had helped her family recover from the very women who had murdered his own! Who was she to speak ill of the citizens of Starkhaven? She hadn't been here for years! It was ungrateful, hypocritical—!
"Sammie—!" Flora's face flushed. She looked at Samantha with a mixture of embarrassment and joy, as though she weren't sure what to say. Flora then rushed to Samantha's side, throwing her arms around Samantha in greeting. They had hugged before, laced their arms together in friendship, even held hands, but this felt altogether informal.
"I have dreamed of this day!" Flora laughed into Samantha's hair.
Her happiness was contagious, and Samantha laughed in return. "Flora! Why didn't you write? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? We could have prepared, welcomed you properly!"
"Properly?" Flora laughed again. "You really think they would have opened the gates for us had they known we were coming?"
"Well..." Samantha didn't think she was being naïve. "Yes. For you? Of course."
"And what about for Sebastian?" Flora countered. "What about for him?"
Samantha remembered Flora's letters, the warnings, the talk about Sebastian being the true prince. "Goran has known of Sebastian's plans for some time. As has the people. It's probably the worst kept secret in the Free Marches. If he had but asked... made a proper claim—"
"Asked? A proper claim?" Flora chortled condescendingly. "What has happened to you? Don't tell me that living in this palace has turned you into a snob." Samantha felt confused, but Flora just shrugged. "Sebastian is the true heir and everyone knows it. Goran is afraid, and that's why he threw Sebastian in the dungeons."
What was this sophistry? Samantha was so surprised at her friend's attitude that she couldn't think of a single thing to say in response.
"Actually, I'm glad you're here for another reason, too." Flora took Samantha's hand. "Can you speak to Goran? Make him see reason."
Samantha couldn't believe what Flora was asking, and she searched for a response, her eloquence a blurry memory. She yanked her hand away. "I will do nothing of the sort, Flora."
Flora seemed confused.
"I'm surprised at you. Goran is showing you the kindness you deserve as Starkhaven's own, and you repay him with derision."
Now Flora seemed offended. "Locking Sebastian in a dungeon is no kindness."
Samantha groaned – why was Flora so stubborn? "It didn't have to be this way! You didn't need to storm the gates – we would have let you in!"
"Let us in?!" Flora laughed incredulously and the elf, Fenris, huffed.
"Your city would have let someone inside the gates who intended to overthrow their ruler?" Fenris asked, managing to look both irritated and bored. With that intense scowl with those strange tattoos, he looked to be a dangerous sort. "How is it that this city still stands?"
"Sebastian may have been exiled by his own father, but he is still Starkhaven's son!" Samantha countered. "But by coming back like this, he has broken the law he so ardently claims to respect."
"Not you, too?" Flora bemoaned, and in that moment, she seemed utterly foreign to Samantha. Not a Havener at all. She didn't understand this city anymore. She couldn't.
Samantha glared at her friend. "There's a reason you're standing here in the guest quarters of the Royal Palace and not the dungeons, and it's not because you arrogantly think Goran pines for you as he once did."
"Are you telling me that I am a guest here? Because with the armed guards at the door and Sebastian in the dungeons, it feels more like I'm a prisoner." Flora shook her head in disbelief. "This is injustice."
Samantha felt her control slipping. What would Flora know about being a prisoner? What would she know of injustice? She had never seen Innley in that dungeon. She never wiped the tears from his eyes as he begged her for freedom that she couldn't give. Samantha knew these things. Flora did not.
She took a breath. "Goran helped you after what happened with your mother. He didn't have to do that—!"
"And I know why he did it," Flora said distastefully. "If he thought that helping my family would indebt me to him, then he was wrong. I don't owe him anything."
"You owe him some courtesy, at the very least," Samantha said icily. "I always knew you were stubborn, Flora, but I never thought you could be so thick."
Samantha turned to leave, but Flora rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. "Wait, Sammie. I... I don't want to fight with you. We were friends. We are friends."
Samantha considered her for a moment. "If we're truly friends, then you would never ask me to interfere in matters that could cause me harm. You would never ask me to choose between those that I love. Goran is the greatest of men. The kindest of souls. He has always deserved better than you, Flora. It just took him a little while to see it."
She yanked her arm free, and left her stunned friend—were they still friends?—in the doorway. Sophine was awkwardly waiting for her in the hall, having heard their entire exchange.
"Rylan came by earlier," Sophine said a little sheepishly. "Told me that Goran went to the dungeons to see Sebastian and Corbinian... it's just through there." She pointed down a hallway that ended in shadowblack darkness. Samantha recognized it, but had always assumed it was a service corridor, and therefore, had never ventured through.
Samantha placed a hand on Sophine's shoulder, the snags in her dress catching on Samantha's fingertips. "I'm sorry about that."
"I'm not," Sophine said. "Goran has told me about her. I think distance and time has given him perspective, but he painted a far rosier picture than that."
"He sees the best in people."
"He must have taken a really long look."
Had Samantha missed it, too? No, she felt strongly. She knew Flora to be stubborn and confident, qualities that make her a strong and determined woman, but maybe Samantha had just hoped for a change of heart, an extra bit of softness where there never could have been any.
It was dark and dusty and Samantha sneezed more than once as they descended the thick stone steps into a windowless basement. If there had been wine bottles lining the walls, Samantha would not have thought much of the place, because it looked fairly fine, but the absence of decoration or any stores gave the chamber an eerie quality. It was too clean for a dungeon, she thought. It was certainly nicer than the Circle Tower dungeons; there was no dripping water, no shackles chained to the wall, no rats scurrying from the corners and no moldy smell. No, the floors were made of smooth stone, much like the walls, and while the only color abounded seemed to be grey, it wasn't even that gloomy. But then again, everything in Starkhaven was remarkably clean.
"He is my cousin, ser," she heard Goran say in the distance. He sounded offended. "And a brother in the Chantry. If I should come to harm in his presence, then what good is left in the world?"
"Fine. But I'm not leaving your side," said a man. His voice sounded familiar.
"Of course," Goran sighed.
Elated at having reached her destination, Samantha hurried down the corridor, turning at the end, but ran straight into a wall of gold. Samantha's palms landed on smooth embroidered metal which offered no reflection. She looked up and, unable to help herself, broke into a joyous smile.
"Keis!"
"What?" Keis answered, somewhat confused. "I said I'd be back."
"Well, yes, but—aren't you glad to see me? I'm glad to see you!"
Keis gave Samantha a searching look. "You aren't going to cry are you?"
"I might." Samantha huffed. "It's more than I would expect of you."
"Warriors aren't supposed to cry, my lady. Not even when we're happy." She turned her steely gaze away, and Samantha wondered if there was anything in Thedas that could ever affect that woman. Was she surprised to see Corbinian? What was their reunion like? Did she smile? Ever?
Then Keis said, "They're at the end of the hall."
Samantha curtseyed and Keis resumed her watch – what was she watching for anyway? It ceased to matter as she got closer to the dungeon cells. She heard more voices.
"You are to stand before the Council, and tell us why you have returned," Goran said, but to whom, Samantha didn't know.
Once she reached the entryway to the dungeons, she was blocked by a guard. She looked up, and was somewhat surprised to see Marke, the Ferelden mage. His was the voice she heard speaking to Goran just a moment ago. Goran had allowed a mage to stand in his service?
"You must stay here while His Highness speaks to the prisoners. You will be allowed to see them after," Marke informed her.
Samantha bounced on heels impatiently, but Sophine relaxed, leaning against the wall.
"I'm supposed to believe that the outcome of this trial isn't already set?" Sebastian asked derisively.
"Believe what you like," Goran said. "Though I won't pretend your chances are any good. You are in exile, and had you written, had you asked to return, you may have received different... accommodations."
Sebastian snorted. He didn't sound like he believed a word of it.
"As for you," Goran said. "You will also face the Council and the people. You will answer for why you broke the Oath of Starkhaven. Yours is a far more serious crime."
Samantha glanced at Sophine who was pulling bits of leaves from her hair. They both shared a serious look before Samantha heard his voice.
"I will stand with honor," Corbinian said. "The Council and the people will see that I have not broken my Oath. That I have upheld it. Every word."
There was a pause before Goran said, "I will leave you now. But we will see you both soon."
They heard his footsteps and the slamming of a thick door, and when Goran rounded the corner Samantha jumped on him. "What are you doing?! Why have you sent him to the dungeons? You cannot allow him to be executed!"
He gave his traditional pause before his most common answer: "What?"
When had the old Goran returned, Samantha thought angrily? "It's Beenie! You can't let the Council—!"
"Sammie."Goran seemed aghast, taking her hands, but she yanked them away just as Sophine placed a hand on Samantha's shoulder.
"He's just come back, we have no idea where he's been and what has happened! You cannot execute him!" Samantha cried.
Sophine draped an arm over her shoulders. "You never told her, Goran. Remember?" She turned her attention to Samantha. "Goran received a letter from Lady Pentaghast a few months ago. Corbinian asked her to write it, as he had found his way to Nevarra City and took refuge in her care. He detailed his plan to return to Starkhaven, but asked Goran not tell a soul. He didn't want anyone to know until he made it back. He needed to regain his strength, for we all know that his journey has been perilous. He wanted the people to know that he was alive the moment of his return, and not before. Goran told me, of course, because... well, I don't really know why." She gave him a mischievous grin. "He shouldn't have."
"Oh!" Goran slapped a hand to his forehead, and Samantha could have screamed in her tearful frustration. "Sammie..." He gently took her hands. "Corbinian will face the Council; there's nothing that I can do about that. I have announced that the trial will be held in public, because I have a feeling that the people want him back as much as we do, and the Council cannot refuse popular opinion. We know where he's been. We know what he's done to return. I have my scouts and agents who have amassed a detailed account of his journey. With all of that, popular opinion, and his testimony, I don't think the Council can possibly invoke the execution. Besides... don't you have any faith that Beenie will win them over?"
He will... he has... what? She sniffled, pausing like Goran before she asked him, "What?"
"We must do this. For Starkhaven." He smiled convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that she actually relaxed a little.
"Can I see him?" she pleaded.
"Of course you can," he said matter-of-factly, as though she didn't even need to ask.
Samantha dried her eyes as Goran took Sophine's hand, turning to lead them away from the dungeons, but Sophine paused and smiled at her. "Don't worry." She sounded like Goran's echo. "Everything will be fine."
Samantha relaxed a little. It was amazing how sure they were. As they left, she heard Goran say to Sophine, "And you guessed about Beenie! I didn't tell you."
"It was all over your face! And you really shouldn't let me guess." Sophine giggled.
"You were very persistent. And you had that little wrinkle above your nose..."
Maker. They were going to go through a cutesy phase, Samantha just knew it. She almost couldn't stand it, knowing that Corbinian was just a room away.
She turned the corner and one of the guards opened the thick door for her, but she hesitated in the doorway.
"I heard the rumors. I prayed they were true," she heard Sebastian say.
Corbinian snorted. "Your prayers made no difference, brother."
"You don't mean that."
"You know as well as I that He didn't bring me home."
"The Maker guides us in ways that we can't always see."
"Don't tell me you really believe that."
"I told you years ago; I'm not the same boy I was when I left."
"Neither am I," Corbinian said remorsefully.
She entered the dungeons then, and when she came into view, the two men turned to see who had come to visit. Sebastian was standing at the bars of his cell, and he paused at the sight of her, but didn't seem surprised. Only a moment passed before he turned away, retreating to the back of his chamber. Corbinian had been leaning against the bars between the cells, but his entire body straightened up when he saw Samantha. He moved to the front bars as quickly as she did, and when her fingers found his, the world dissolved away. The grey walls and the stone floor, Flora, Goran, Keis, and Sebastian, they all faded into nothingness for the only thing that existed in the world stood behind a set of freshly scraped cast-iron bars.
His tanned fingers wrapped around the bars, his face brought to the gaps. Samantha wrapped her hands over his. He was still so warm. Warmth from life.
Corbinian looked down to Samantha. She looked up to him. What was there to say that wasn't written all over them both?
She let out a small laugh, the tears skipping down her cheeks as she threaded her arms through the grate, placing her hands upon his face. She imagined the Maker had watched over him closely, because His light had clearly infused Corbinian's every feature. His skin was so dark and his hair was nearly blond. She reached up to touch it – it felt rough. More rough than she remembered. He had tiny scars across his forehead and chin, cuts that had clearly never felt the touch of a healer's hand. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth when he smiled. Lines like the Knight Commander's. They all pointed down.
Corbinian pulled their bodies tightly together, with only the bars crushed between them, lifting her from the ground. Absorbing the warmth of his living body, tangible, as real as her own, Samantha closed her eyes. How many nights had she spent awake in Corbinian's bed or by his wristplate, hoping for this exact thing? She heard him breathe deeply, and thought that, even with the bars, nothing in the world could be any more perfect than this moment.
Eventually he pulled back, but he didn't let go. He brought his other hand up to her cheek to brush away the tears, and his palm scratched the side of her face, dry and callused from who-knows-what. He said her name again and again. "Sammie..."
"Beenie," she whispered breathlessly. "Beenie."
He smelled of musk and dirt. The scruff on his chin scratched her face and felt funny underneath her fingers. He felt bigger somehow, more dense than before – or maybe it had just been too long since a man had held her. He was so warm, and tall, she had almost forgotten how much taller he was. Even with the bars, she could feel heat radiating through the fibers of his tunic.
She didn't know how many times she had repeated his name or how long they held each other, mashed up against the bars before he kissed her. And it was like the world suddenly turned right-side up. His lips were still soft, though his beard tickled a little. He kissed away the years of fear for his survival. He kissed away her loneliness. He kissed away the darkness and the terror of a night survived so long ago, but one that still haunted her dreams. He kissed away the pain of losing him, of losing her brother and her family and her friends. All of the nightmarish things that plagued the world simply faded into the ether; the seven years that had passed, the demons and the Harimann's, the slavers and the mountains, the Chantry and the Circle – it was all behind her. And when he finished kissing her, Samantha finally felt as spent as all the women in all those stories.
When she opened her eyes, she almost felt surprise that they were standing in a jail, separated by thick iron bars. The world's chill had finally left her. She was home now.
It took effort to speak after that, but she managed to ask him, "Where have you been?"
"Oh," He laughed. "Here and there." Still the same Beenie. "My aunt says hello."
"Yes. Goran said you saw your aunt before me." She shook her head in mock irritation.
"If you could call it that," he mused. "I saw her healers more than her. And her butterflies. They were attached to a very large hat with little strings."
Samantha thought that sounded absurd. "Why on Thedas would she do that?"
He shrugged. "You know of her fondness for bugs."
"How long were you there?"
"Months," he said, his gaze drifting to her hair. "What has happened to you?"
"What?"
"Your hair," he said, pulling a twig from her fallen braid. "And your dress. You look a mess."
"Oh!" Samantha had forgotten that she and Sophine had climbed down that tree behind the Chantry just an hour ago. "I was...Wait a minute!" She slapped a palm to his chest and glanced at Sebastian, who was sulking in the far corner of his cell. She lowered her voice. "You could have told me that you were coming back."
"No," he whispered. "It wouldn't have been fair."
"Why not?"
"Because I wanted to see the look in your eyes when I returned." He raised both of his hands to her cheeks. "To make sure you remember nothing of the night that I left."
She held a breath inside. "I tried. I even asked for help from the First Enchanter, but... I remember nothing."
He searched her eyes as he was looking for a lie, but Samantha couldn't lie. Not to him. And they both knew it. Eventually, he smiled, beautiful and true, letting his hands fall away from her face.
"Also," he said, apparently satisfied with her answer. "You're a dreadful liar. If anyone asked, you would have been put in a precarious position." He pulled a twig from the ribbon around her waist. "What is all this? Have you taken a job in the stables or something? Because your employers are going to be really upset at what you've done to their uniform."
"Taken a job?" She laughed truly. "Beenie, you've been gone a while, so I'll forgive your ignorance in fashion trends."
"Fashion?" He chuckled. "Who are you trying to impress? The horses?"
"Horses are quite intelligent." She ran a hand over the bodice, and though the dress was completely ruined, she decided then and there that she would keep it forever. Just as it was. To be a reminder of this moment. "As I recall, you almost named one in my honor."
"Right... And I recall your general elation about that." He sighed in mock acceptance. "But I suppose you had to find some way to pass the time while waiting for my triumphant and heroic return."
"What makes you think I waited?" she teased. "You were gone an awfully long time..."
He reached out to her hand to touch her engagement ring, the wheel of decadence that still twinkled in the dim light. "Don't think you can back out of our engagement now! What is it that they say? The longer the engagement, the happier the marriage? You have to marry me. For the sake of probabilities."
Samantha couldn't stop laughing.
"Besides I had a few things to take care of," he said jovially, and his gaze drifted down to her locket, his grandmother Meghan's locket. "There was that demon – couldn't let her roam free. And those slavers – they had to be taken care of—"
"What, no Qunari? No dragons?" she added to the joke.
"Just one, but it barely touched me." Corbinian pulled her closer to the bars and she sucked in a breath. "So after all of that was taken care of, I headed here straight away! I mean, I did make you a promise. And," he added, "I never break my promises."
"I don't know..." she teased. "Seven years is a long time..."
He straightened up, cracking his knuckles. "All right, then. Just tell me who I have to duel."
"Another duel, Beenie? Think you're up for it?"
"However many it takes." He smiled that Vael smile.
The iron bars melted away and the darkness receded, brightened by the Maker's Light for surely He was looking upon them now. In fact, for one everlasting moment, Samantha felt so special that she was certain she had His full attention.
Like she was the center of everything.