Chapter 43: The Lady of Orlais

-o0o-

"Maker's breath!" Teagan cursed and he pointed down the hilly road that ran deep into the valleys. Sounds of padded footsteps brought everyone to attention and Hadrian let out an audible hiss at the sight of the familiar redhead, the one whose scent felt wrong.

"Lady Isolde!" The younger Eamon exclaimed in shock, his face paling and appearing as if he was going to be sick.

"Teagan! Thank the Maker you are alive!" The petite woman stopped within a few paces of the group and Hadrian's eyes narrowed as he noticed that there was only one guard with her. The man's eyes looked glazed over and there was an unnatural grace to his strides followed by the unusual stiffness in his postures. The Arlessa, on the other hand, appeared in full control of her mind and the sharp contrast between the two immediately put Hadrian on guard. Something was amiss here and his good friend, Teagan, was going to get in the mess of it.

"Careful, Teagan," Hadrian warned, stepping forward and prompting the other guard to pull out his sword. The action caused Alistair to do the same but Hadrian didn't say anything to stop him. Even if he did, it wouldn't help the situation. Alistair had become strangely protective of him as of late, more possessive as well.

"Who dares? Who is this man, Teagan?" Lady Isolde's scowl marred her pretty face, twisting that relieved smile into thin red lines.

"Hold your swords," Teagan replied calmly, hoping to defuse the already tense situation. He had no idea what would have happened with the presence of Isolde and her guard. It was particular more troublesome with Alistair present as well. He still remembered that day when she literally tossed Alistair out of the castle and dumped him, through his older brother, into the village's chantry. The younger Guerrin hadn't expected for Isolde to recognize the fully-grown man. Thus, when she gasped out Alistair's name in a horrified tone, Teagan knew that he had to calm everyone down and fast.

"My lady, what has happened to Eamon? Is he safe?" Nothing got her attention faster than the topic of her beloved husband and she raised her hand, to signal the guard to put away his greatsword, before turning her full attentions to her brother-in-law.

"Yes, for now. But, you must come with me, Teagan, alone." It was a gentle request but a trap as well. Hadrian had no intentions of letting his childhood friend go and he shook his head.

"No, it's a trap," Hadrian said firmly.

"You dare to speak out of your place! You are speaking in the presence of the Arlessa of Redcliffe!" She hissed out her malcontent at the younger man.

"Might I remind you, Lady Isolde," Hadrian replied caustically, tired of being brushed aside like a common peasant, "that I am Hadrian Cousland, son of the late Bryce and Eleanor Cousland."

"You?! Then, perhaps you should remember your manners in the presence of a lady! I am sure your mother taught you better!"

The mention of his mother, spoken of so casually by the bitter woman, made Hadrian clench his fists tightly, hanging onto his restraint with all the willpower of a man who bore everything unto his shoulders: the tragedy of his parents, his hopeless initiation into the Wardens, and this Blight that hung over his head like a dark cloud. He couldn't lose it in front of his companions; he couldn't scream out his frustrations at the Arlessa or pummel something into submission. Instead, he breathed in a steady rhythm, remembering his father's words-bear yourself away from the world, listen to the trees, the wind, to the heart beating deep inside you. Care not to immerse yourself in the outside world. Instead, look within and find serenity.

His father's words, while a constant reminder of what he lost, calmed him down enough for the rage to ebb inside of him.

"Milady, I will go with you but give me a moment to speak with Hadrian and his friends," Teagan's steady voice could be heard through the calmness of his meditations. Someone was gripping unto his shoulder and Hadrian realized, with a start, that he was swaying slightly. They all watched Isolde nod her head in agreement and Teagan approached them, albeit a little unsteadily.

"Listen, I haven't much time," Teagan began to say as he led them away from Isolde, to bring them out of earshot. "I will try to find out what truly is going on inside the castle. If Eamon is really as sick as Isolde claims him to be, then you must get him out of there. Leave me and anyone else behind. We are expendable!"

"Teagan, you can't!" Hadrian shook his head in refusal. Those words sounded horribly familiar and Hadrian could see his father's face lurking behind Teagan's own visage.

"I must. You should have no problems getting into the castle undetected. With my signet ring, the door will open. From there, go and find what is going on."

"I'll save you, Teagan," Hadrian sounded determined, a fire kindled in his blue eyes. "I'll save everyone."

Teagan nodded and gripped his friend's shoulder tightly before turning away and following after Lady Isolde and her guard.

"I need to inform Loren of this; perhaps he will have an idea of what's behind these dark events," Hadrian said, his hand fingering his chin in thought. Before anyone could protest, he walked away from the group, his shoulders heavily slumped as if a great weight was put on them. Everyone was quite confused as to what was going on. Their leader's reactions to Lady Isolde, her reactions to the both of them and then Teagan's sudden departure, leaving behind only a signet ring that granted them access to the Redcliffe Castle. However, nothing topped that except for the the piece of news that their leader's parents were dead. Everyone heard the words mouthed angrily by their leader. I am the son of the late Bryce and Eleanor Cousland...

"Go to him, Alistair," someone suggested and the blonde warrior was stunned to find that it was the elven assassin who spoke the words. He thought to find a hint of mockery in those sharp, brown eyes but there was an understanding of sorts simmering in those brown orbs. An understanding of sorrow and grief. How would Zevran know of that as an assassin? Alistair knew it wasn't the time to bring up old grudges and petty jealousy. "He doesn't need to go alone."

Alistair wordlessly agreed with the blonde elf and he silently walked after Hadrian, fully aware of everyone staring after them.

-o0o-

Go son, leave us here...tell Fergus...that we love you both...

Hadrian's chest heaved as he tried to forget that horrible night. His memory of fire and blood, of betrayal, was too strong to be erased. It stood indelibly in his mind, like a beacon of his shame and of his weakness. He should have stayed behind! Stayed with his parents and defend their name of Cousland. Now he was a Grey Warden and tasked with defending a nation, much less his home. How could he defend Ferelden when he couldn't even stave off Howe's assault on the castle?

He sobbed quietly by the bridge, feeling overwhelmed by the events. He was fine up until he saw Fergus and seeing his older brother alive and whole brought everything hard to port. While he was relieved that he was no longer the sole heir of their family name, seeing Fergus and then Isolde didn't bring him any comfort. He cried out his anguish with Fergus, sharing his loss with his brother, until their inner wolves were silenced, too bound by their sorrow to voice out their grief within their hosts' bodies.

Hadrian was so lost in thought, he failed to pick up the quiet footsteps behind him and jumped when a hand gently clasped on his shoulders. The scent of sandalwood and oiled armor drifted into his nose and the smell relaxed him, knowing who it was at his back. The hand then brought him closer to a cold breastplate and strong arms wrapped themselves around his shaking form. He didn't fight the tight but comforting embrace. He didn't protest when a soft kiss was placed gently on top of his head nor the gentle pressure of dry chapped lips placed on top of his.

Then his tears were smoothed away by those same lips and there were whispers of comfort, of love, in his ear.

The two warriors spent several moments in silent repose; one grieving while the other one supported him.

"Better?" The taller one spoke in a tender whisper, his lips brushing against the silken silver locks. A gauntled hand stroked down his back and while Hadrian couldn't feel it with his heavy chainmail armor, he appreciated the gesture.

Hadrian nodded in answer and he drew back from Alistair's strong embrace only to have the blonde warrior lift his chin up. Alistair's eyes were soft in compassion and understanding and Hadrian realized, up close, that he bore light freckles across his nose, something he didn't notice until now. He didn't realize he was touching them until his hand was caught in one of Alistair's and brought to his lips instead.

One finger was almost drawn into his mouth and Hadrian flushed at the heated gaze of his lover. Maker, this certainly wasn't the time but the way Alistair stared at him made him want to submit himself to him-on his stomach and his ass up in the air.

Alistair somehow guessed what he was thinking when there was that knowing smirk on his handsome, tanned face. "You are definitely better now." His voice, usually light and carefree, was deeper and had an edge of a growl to it. It heightened Hadrian's arousal and Hadrian was just about to say something when a voice shouted at them from afar, "Alistair, just storm his castle already!"

Hadrian groaned, mentally cursing the lithe elf who shouldn't have been watching them. Then he let out a small laugh and covered his eyes, too embarrassed by the shoutout. Another female voice admonished Zevran loudly and she yelled out, "Alistair, Hadrian! We're not watching anymore. Keep doing what you're going to do!"

Leliana's Orlesian accent gave her away and Alistair chuckled, nodding his head at how closely their friends were watching them. The two separated even further, prompting further groans of frustration and disappointment from their friends.

"Come on," Alistair started to head out, still hanging onto his lover's hand. "We best be on our way to Loren and Cullen. Otherwise, we'll probably hear enough catcalls and whistles to last us the night."

Another sharp whistle cut through the air, thus supporting Alistair's theory, and the two men just laughed as they both walked down the bridge, a little closer together than normal. For once, Hadrian didn't mind and the silver-haired Cousland wondered if perhaps that Alistair's affection for him was genuine and not borne out of the High Lord's influence. Only time would tell.

-TBC-

AN: Hey everyone! I am starting to update more often, mostly because I started playing DA again and this time with a mod that allows Alistair to see the male playable character as a woman! Yay! The next chappie is coming up soon! I promise! As always, I look forward to some feedback!