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Chapter 57 - Three Kings
The group relaxed at Redcliffe for the rest of the week, prepping for their journey to Orzammar. Serena spent much of the time working on a plan in the Arl's study. When not devouring books on previous Blights, the Old Gods, the Deep Roads, and anything she could find about the dwarves, she was with Fergus.
Watching them together, Alistair felt a slight envy he had never gotten to know Cailan better. He found himself wondering at the extent of the late king's knowledge of him. Surely he had known they shared a father, but the familiarity seemed to end there. Perhaps he had been little more than a reminder of a supposed momentary dalliance of his fathers? Alistair sighed, realizing he would never know now.
"Brother, surely it's time to shave that bloody thing off, isn't it?" Serena's voice drifted into the hallway and Alistair found himself drawn to it, as he always was in quieter moments. He paused outside the door to the study, unsure whether he wanted to interrupt.
"You don't think it makes me look all rugged and manly? I tell you, the village girls certainly swoon when they see me." Fergus chuckled. "Besides, it keeps my face warm in these cold Satinalia months..."
"You would think your ego alone would be enough to do that..."
"I apologize we can't all be as silky smooth as your darling young husband-"
"Shhhh!" Serena hissed. Alistair grinned as he heard the sound of a smack on fabric. "Nobody is supposed to know about that yet, you ponce!"
Another loud chortle. "Then perhaps you ought to stop looking so happy all the bloody time," Fergus replied. "The nerve of you two... honestly. Don't you know this is a Blight?"
"I hate you."
"No, you don't. You love me. Maybe not as much as Alistair, but surely I'm a close second?" Fergus's voice was teasing. "I'm happy for you, though, truly. It's heartening to see something good came of all of this... madness."
There was a long silence before Serena spoke again. "I miss Oren, Fergus."
"Yes..." The older man sighed, the long escape of air that came from a grief held barely in check. "I wanted to send a scout, for news of Highever, but the risk was just too great... The rumors we've caught are bad enough as it is. That wretch Howe... if I ever get my hands on him, I'll rip him limb-from-limb, Serena. I swear, not even the Maker Himself would be able to hold me back."
There was the sound of a chair scraping the stone and Alistair imagined Serena standing, wrapping her brother in a hug like she had done for him so many times. Fergus was handling the murder of his wife and son with remarkable grace, certainly better than Alistair had handled Duncan's death, and they hadn't even been related...
"He looks like Oren, you know," Fergus said softly. "The Arl's boy. When we first arrived, I thought... I thought I was seeing a ghost. I nearly started crying right there."
"I know. When I first saw him, he was... possessed, you know. All I could think of was what if it was Oren? What if this happened to Oren?" Serena sighed. "I still can't believe they're gone. That... that one day we'll return to Highever and Oriana won't be there, that Mother and Father won't-" Her voice broke and Alistair had to still his hand against the stones at his back, the urge to go to her... to comfort her was so strong.
"I was speaking to Eamon, he believes I should think of remarrying," Fergus said. "During the Landsmeet, he plans on decrying Howe as a violent usurper, and having Alistair reinstate me as teyrn." His voice was incredulous. "Can you imagine? Me? A teyrn? It sounds so bizarre."
"You sound just like Alistair," Serena said, her voice still sounding thick. "He doesn't think he'll be a good king..."
"Raised a bloody army, didn't he?" Fergus countered quickly, making Alistair smile. Listening to Serena's brother talk about him, he felt a warm glow inside. Despite only knowing the man for a few days, after hearing of his many ordeals, he respected Fergus Cousland a great deal. He wished he'd been able to meet their father, Bryce.
"You lot fought a damned high dragon for fun. That blighting archdemon can't be much different. Besides, he's got you, Serena. A Theirin and Cousland on the throne? Together, you could have Loghain and all those turncoats on their knees, I know it."
"Here's hoping Howe is right next to Loghain when we do it, then," Serena said fiercely. "Two birds, one sword..."
"Ah, my dear sister. Listening to you speaking of revenge... It's almost quaint," Fergus teased.
"Oh, pfft. I've killed worse, I'll have you know! Demons, werewolves... a bloody high dragon!" Serena scoffed. "Though, if anyone owes that snake a sword in the gut, it's you, Brother."
"A vow I may just hold you to, when we arrive in Denerim," Fergus replied. "Hmm, I should get going..." There were more sounds of chairs scraping the floor and Alistair glanced around the hallway, looking for something to occupy himself with quickly so he didn't look like he was so obviously eavesdropping. "That bloke Murdock wanted to discuss fortifications for the village before we march to Oswin tomorrow in case the darkspawn show their faces..."
"Alistair! I was just about to go find you-"
Alistair turned, sure his cheeks were burning, and waved awkwardly at the siblings. "I was just passing by..."
"You have the best timing then," Serena gushed, tucking her arm into his. She grinned up at him, and Alistair was happy to see his father's ring, which Serena had taken to calling 'emma', was gleaming brightly on her left hand. "Alban said he's making cookies!"
"I'll see you both at dinner," Fergus called, nodding to Alistair. "Assuming you don't eat us right out of the castle before then!" He strode off down the hall, humming gently to himself.
"So... cookies, you say?" Alistair prompted.
"Mmhmm. The most delicious you've ever tasted." Serena cast a quick look around before running a hand along his jaw. The kiss was quick and sweet, and she tasted a bit like the blueberries they'd had at breakfast. "You're lucky I'm already hopelessly in love, otherwise I might run away with that cook."
"And after all I've done for you..."
"It's true. Fergus tells me I'm a terrible tease." Serena grinned again, pulling him along to the kitchen where the large cook waved to them both. Surprising them both, they found Brother Genitivi sitting at the small table, eating a sandwich as he perused a book from the Arl's collection.
"Brother Genitivi! I thought you'd left for Denerim already." Serena smiled, taking the plate of cookies from Alban and sat down across from the chantry scholar.
"Ah, tomorrow, when your brother takes his men to Oswin, I'll be going with one of the merchant caravans heading to the capital." The man took one of the cookies Serena offered him and smiled. "And haven't I told you to call me Ferdinand?"
"Right, sorry," Serena blushed. She pulled up another chair for Alistair, who sat down gratefully. "How is your leg doing?"
"Oh, you wouldn't even know it was busted, that Wynne is a marvel." Genitivi blushed slightly, biting into another cookie. "How fares your own injury, my dear?"
"Healing, slowly. It barely pains me now." Alistair knew that was a lie; Serena often woke up in the middle of the night, shifting uneasily as a twinge of pain from the stitches, which had busted twice more on the trek to Wildomire, stole over her. Between that and the renewed nightmares, Serena was not sleeping well.
"Regardless, it has to be better, we leave for Orzammar in two days time," Serena finished.
"Ah, Orzammar," Genitivi sighed, nodding. "They allow so few topsiders within its hallowed halls nowadays, I wish you luck. I'd heard, from your friend Bodahn in fact, that old Endrin had finally passed away and the Assembly is in an uproar over a replacement."
"Who is Endrin?" Serena asked.
"Endrin Aeducan is... was the dwarven king, descended down from Paragon Aeducan, who led the dwarven armies against the darkspawn in the First Blight. He saved the city of Orzammar, when all other cities and thaigs fell to the fiends." Alistair wanted to laugh- Genitivi never answered a question simply. He was like a walking, talking textbook.
"So how is it the dwarves have a king? I thought they... voted on everything, or something like that?" Alistair chewed one of the cookies thoughtfully. Serena was right, they were delicious. "That's the Assembly, right? Seems a bit like overkill to me, having a king and a voting body."
"Well, it's more of a constitutional monarchy than anything else," Genitivi clarified. "Their kings are elected, like ours, instead of ascending to the throne by a royal line, like in Antiva or Orlais. So if you think about it, the Landsmeet isn't unlike the Assembly, in a lot of ways. All the noble houses and lords would be like our freeholders... only they meet much more frequently, of course. Nearly every decision or policy is voted upon, I believe."
"Do they shout as much, though?" Serena asked, grinning.
"More so, I'd imagine. Dwarves can be quite loud." Genitivi smiled. "I do hope you're careful, though, my lady. Dwarven politics are... well, they make our Landsmeet look like a picnic, at times."
"How do you mean?"
"Ah, it can... let's just say it can get bloody, quite literally. Their nobles tend to engage in a deadly political game of intrigue that... shames the goings on in our... simpler courts." The Brother looked uncomfortable for a moment before picking up his dirty dishes and handing them to the kitchen assistant. "If I don't see you all again before tomorrow, Maker be with you all." With a little wave, he left the room.
Serena watched the chantry scholar as he left, her expression pensive as she seemed to consider his words.
"One treaty left, and of course it won't be easy. It's never easy." Serena slammed her hand on the table. "We'll probably have to battle a demon-possessed werewolf darkspawn or something..."
"We don't know that," Alistair reasoned. He took her hand across the table, squeezing it gently. He felt guilty, complaining about being king when he'd basically left the majority of the tough decisions to her since... well, since he met her, really.
"I hate being leader," she said grumpily, echoing his thoughts.
"But you are good at it."
Serena scoffed, shaking her head. She glanced out the window, her eyes far away. "I get people hurt... Leliana, Sten... I even got myself hurt. Two of Kuno's men died..."
"More would have, if you hadn't woken us all up, insisted that we... Serena, look at me." Alistair watched as her blue eyes flicked back to him briefly before resting on the surface of the table. He wished nothing more than to be able to read her mind in that moment.
"You do the best you can, Serena, the best any of us can." Serena glanced up at that as if she wanted to protest, but Alistair held up a hand, cutting her off before she could begin. "No. If I have to be king and not spend all my bloody time moping about it, then neither can you. We're in this together, right?" He reached over, tapping the ring on her finger, and saw the corners of her mouth perk up.
"You're right. I'm being... thoughtless." She slipped her hand into his again, intertwining their fingers. "I'm sorry, love. I must sound like a spoiled brat, huh?"
"I'll forgive you this one time, I suppose," Alistair replied, arching an eyebrow mockingly. "But only because you agreed to my ridiculous demand of marriage."
Serena laughed. "Oh yes, what were you thinking with that?"
"Perhaps I was simply struck dumb by your beauty, my lady," Alistair teased.
"Pfft. Don't you know flattery will get you everywhere with me?"
"I can't deny that's what I was hoping..."
"Seems to me you're already getting the handle on political manipulation, then, hmm?" Serena stood, wrapping her arms around Alistair's shoulders. "I knew you'd grow to enjoy this king business."
It took a week to reach the gates of Orzammar. Buried deep in the foothills of the northern Frostback Mountains, Orzammar was surrounded by a large base camp, almost a miniature city in and of itself, where merchants has set up shop to deal with the dwarves directly.
"Most traders aren't allowed into Orzammar, so they just sort of... gather near the doors," Alistair murmured from beside Serena. His honey-colored eyes were taking in all the different stalls they passed, and Serena couldn't help but be reminded a tiny bit of the market in Highever. "There's no laws up here at all, or so I've been told."
"It's just strange, being this far north and not heading to Highever." Serena sighed as images and sensations of the city flooded her consciousness. The smell of the sea air, the hills that surrounded their castle... Serena could almost picture the grazing sheep on the horizon. "I shudder to think what it looks like now under that madman, Howe."
"My son and I were going to head over that way, my lady," Bodahn spoke up from the wagon. "If you'd like, we could bring back news."
"Oh yes! I mean... Fergus would want to know, too, I'm sure." Serena smiled up at the dwarf as he jockeyed the wagon into one of the empty merchant stalls. "Are you sure you don't want to come inside Orzammar though? It's been awhile since-"
"Oh, no, we're surfacers now," Bodahn replied quickly, shaking his head. "We... we wouldn't be welcome, I'm afraid. Strict rules and all that."
"I... I'm sorry, Bodahn, I didn't mean anything..."
"Think nothing of it, my lady," the dwarf said, wiping the grim look off his face and replacing it with a cheery smile. "We'll meet you back at the Circle Tower in two weeks time, just as we discussed." The dwarf tipped his hat to Alistair. "M'lord." With another nod, he spun on his heel and headed for one of the nearby merchant tents.
"Awkward..." Alistair murmured softly. "Oof!" He smiled crookedly as Serena elbowed him in the stomach.
"Maker's breath, if there isn't one day where I could go about my business without coming off as a total ass..." Serena sighed.
"Well, good luck with that, love. I've been seeing your total ass since Ostagar."
"Are you complaining, my dear Alistair?" The elven assassin had come up beside them, his eyebrow arched curiously. "I could... take our deadly sex goddess off your hands if you're tired of her...?"
"As if I'm some commodity people deal in!" Serena kicked out at Zevran playfully. "Oh... I'll have two Serenas, I think, and three new horseshoes for my stallion here as well, if you please." Serena huffed, wrinkling her nose as she pushed at the two men. "I understand we're around dwarves and the urge to trade must be great, but honestly!"
"Oh, surely you know Alistair only cares the utmost for your hindquarters, sweet Warden," Zevran purred, evading Serena's smack just barely. "He certainly spends enough time appraising their quality, no?" The two men laughed heartily as Serena flushed again.
"I just want to make it clear that I hate you both. Very, very much."
"You love to hate us, my dear," Zevran teased. "Emphasis on the love, of course."
"If you're quite through, elf," Morrigan scoffed, "I believe we have a problem." The witch's golden eyes flicked meaningfully behind Serena and she turned around.
Two of the most immense metal doors Serena had ever seen loomed ahead. Scanning the area for what Morrigan could have been talking about, Serena immediately noticed a group of men shouting angrily at a stout dwarf, clad in heavy armor. To his credit, the dwarf appeared completely nonplussed.
"You insult all of Ferelden with your actions! King Loghain will not suffer the delay of his appointed messenger!"
"Oh dear, King Loghain, is it?" Wynne clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Even his couriers carry his arrogance now."
"Veata!" The dwarf replied, holding out his hand to stop the men from storming the doors. Behind him, two more dwarfs pulled enormous great swords in warning. "This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time."
"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr, or lords or... whatever you call them in your Assembly!" The man stomped his foot angrily. "I am his appointed messenger!"
"And strangely enough, the lad seems proud of that," Alistair muttered, rolling his eyes.
"I don't care if you're the king's wiper," the dwarf said. "Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled."
"Excuse me, ser..." Serena walked up to the dwarf, curtsying politely. "We've heard of King Endrin's passing, and we wish to extend our condolences to the people of Orzammar from the Ferelden Grey Wardens."
"I love it when she gets all... official," Alistair murmured to Wynne.
"You'd do best to take notes, young man," the mage replied, raising an eyebrow.
The dwarf bowed his head to Serena. "Thank you, it has been a trying time indeed for our people. King Endrin returned to the Stone not three weeks ago... sick over the loss of his sons. The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war."
"I apologize for my forwardness, ser, but the Blight is coming, ravaging the land, and the Grey Wardens have come to call on their traditional dwarven allies." Serena handed the treaty to the guard and curtsied again for good measure.
"The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden!" The messenger spoke up. "They're sworn enemies of King Loghain."
"There's that name again..." Zevran grumbled.
The dwarven man rolled his eyes at the other man's outburst and glanced over the treaty. "Well, that is the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it." He shot a smug look to Loghain's messenger, his beard twitching, before he spoke again. "Grey Wardens, you may pass."
"You're letting in a traitor? And a foreigner?" The stubbly-faced courier seemed beside himself. "In the name of King Loghain I demand that you execute this... this stain on the honor of Ferelden!"
"That's enough out of you!" Serena whirled on the man, pulling her dagger in one fluid motion. "Raise your blade to me yourself, if you're so outraged with my presence here."
"Eh, Imrek, maybe we ought to just... go..." The mage was looking about quickly, as if he'd prefer to be anywhere else.
"I... I will not... I'm the king's messenger! I am-"
"So you've said fifty sodding times already," the dwarf replied harshly. "If you've got issue with the Wardens, take it off my sodding doorstep, you blighting fool!"
"Do yourself a favor and back away," Alistair said, pulling his long sword from it's sheath. He stepped forward to stand beside Serena, smiling cruelly as he towered over the messenger's slighter form. "Loghain is the traitor, who quit the field at Ostagar. Your armor tells me you were in his retinue, so you know what really happened there, don't you?"
"What? I... those are n-nothing but lies and... and s-slander! King Loghain will not suffer it-"
"I'm quite sick of hearing what King Loghain will and will not suffer," Serena called. "Either fight us, or shut that bloody hole you call a mouth."
"Ha! Well said, Warden." The dwarf turned to his fellows, grinning. "Girl has a bit of spunk, eh? Reminds me of my sister."
The messenger looked to his two fellows, an apostate mage and a city guard, by the looks of his armor. "If you wish to duel, then... then I shall be forced to show you the full might of the Crown!"
"Three-on-three, then," Serena said. "Alistair, Zevran, let's show these fools what working for a king killer will get them."
"This is better than the Provings," one of the guards said happily. "Care to make a wager, Barok?"
"You're on!" the bearded dwarf called back. "A sovereign on Spunky to gut the loudmouth cloudhead first." Their bet decided, the dwarves backed up from the group, giving them a wide berth.
The messenger awkwardly pulled his own long sword and shield, which gleamed brightly with nary a scratch; Serena guessed the man had never even used the thing for defense previous to this. Hesitantly, he moved forward to engage her, as if he had only watched people fight in a ring and had never actually done it himself. His two bodyguards wisely backed away from him.
He thrust clumsily, and Serena almost felt bad as she easily parried the blow and swept his legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground. Quick as a whip, Serena was on him, pressing her dagger to his throat.
"Here's the part where I give you one more chance to yield and admit you're just a giant prat," Serena said softly. "I suggest you come quietly."
The messenger spat at her. "Traitors! Scum!" Serena punched him hard in the gut, and the man coughed harshly before panting out, "Wardens... will pay!"
"I could have sworn I said quietly," Serena muttered, grabbing the man's head by the hair and slamming it on the ground. There was a loud crack and the messenger's eyes rolled around in his head as he moved his mouth, looking a bit like a fish out of water. Taking pity, Serena slided her dagger across his throat, ending it quick. There was a gurgling sound and then nothing as the man thrashed briefly beneath her before lying still. "Looks like you're going back to King Loghain in a body bag."
"I'll take care of the mage, if neither of you mind," Alistair said. Serena felt the push of his templar magic as he disabled the apostate's abilities before the man even knew what had hit him.
"You're a bloody templar?" the mage cried, backing away frantically. "I didn't sign up to die for that nutter Loghain! I was just earning a bit of coin, that's all."
"You'll do your damn duty to the Crown, coin or not!" the guardsmen bellowed, grabbing the mage by the back of his robes and shoving him roughly to the ground beside him. "Cowardly damn knife-ear." He turned towards Serena as she stood up from the body of the dead messenger, pulling his own sword.
"Really?" Serena asked the guard, incredulous. Her hand was on her hip as she flipped her bloody dagger in her other hand. "I just killed your friend there in three seconds. Surely you aren't that stupid."
"Bloody bitches and knife-ears, this country really has gone to the dogs..." The guard moved to lunge at Serena, but Zevran moved faster; his blades were a flash of silver and then the bodyguard was on the ground, a pool of crimson blood spreading out beneath him.
"I would prefer if you did not refer to my people by such derogatory terminology," the assassin said, pulling his long dagger from the body as it fell to the ground in a heap at his feet. "Nor my beautiful lady companions."
"Don't kill the mage, Alistair," Serena commanded, her eyes narrowed at the dead guardsmen as she sidestepped his corpse. "He's the only one of these three with any sense." Turning to the elf, she wiped her blades clean, making sure he saw them. "What's your name?"
"Alim! Alim Surana," the elf gasped, running a nervous hand over his spiky black hair. Quickly smoothing it back, he scrambled to his feet, dusting off his robes.
"I'm Serena. I apologize we met under such bloody circumstances." She glanced at the nearby bodies. "We're not big fans of Loghain's."
"Who is?" Alim replied, shrugging. "You... aren't going to kill me, are you?"
"No, I'm not going to kill you." Serena sheathed her daggers, nodding to Alistair and Zevran to do the same. "You said you were earning a bit of coin? How did you go about that, exactly?"
"I was hiding out in Denerim, and when Kin- err, Loghain found out me and my fellow were mages, he set us to work for him, in exchange for... things." The elf glanced at his boots, his tan skin burning a deep red. "My friend was caught doing blood magic, you see, and I was an unwitting accomplice, so we ran from the Tower, otherwise, I'd still be there..."
"Blood magic?" Alistair exchanged significant glances with Serena, but she shook her head.
Alim looked panicked at that. "I wasn't doing blood magic, though! It was Jowan, I just-"
"Jowan? Your friend is Jowan?" Serena pursed her lips. Ferelden seemed to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.
"You... know him?"
"Oh yes, Jowan and I go way back," Serena quipped. "He was caught at Redcliffe Castle, trying to poison Arl Eamon."
"Oh, bloody..." The elf rolled two vibrantly green eyes. "The man has no sense at all. He's lucky Gregoir didn't skin him alive back at the Tower. Is he... still alive?"
"I had him spared," Serena said. "He's back at the Tower by now, I'd imagine. In exchange for the arl's mercy, Jowan agreed to help us battle the Blight when we march."
"Well, I'll do that, too! You said you're Grey Wardens, right? Well, I'll help you battle, uh, darkspawn, I guess."
Alistair snorted. "He's certainly eager, isn't he?"
"Eager to get out of a swift death, more like." Morrigan stepped forward, scowling. "We aren't seriously thinking of taking this elf with us, are we?"
"He's a mage, Morrigan," Serena said, as if that should settle it. She turned back to the elven man. "Can you heal at all?"
"Yes, but I'm really more of a entropic mage..."
"Perfect." Serena grinned at Morrigan, who had crossed her arms over chest, looking haughty. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds great."
"He can cast spells like paralyze," Wynne clarified. "By drawing entropic energy to him, he can control a target's energy, even causing them to miss opposing targets completely." She smiled at the elven man. "Surana... I believe you were in one of my lectures, weren't you?"
"Yes, senior enchanter," the man said with a nod.
"Since it seems like we'll be traveling together now, you can call me Wynne if I can call you Alim-"
"And where should he sleep, I wonder?" Morrigan interrupted. "We cannot dally everywhere we go, Serena, picking up stray dogs and the like."
"I was thinking he'd share your tent, in fact," Serena snapped, her humor evaporating at the witch's use of words. The man had just been insulted by the guard, he didn't need to be called a dog by a complete stranger. "Maker's breath, Morrigan. He's a fellow mage! How can you be so obtuse as to not see his usefulness to us?"
"I... I simply worry of our dwindling supplies, 'tis all," the dark haired witch replied, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.
"I'm pretty well stocked anyway," Alim added, glancing nervously between the two women. "I have my own tent and everything, so... I can just go grab my pack from our tent and we can be off..."
"Yeah, uh, you go do that," Alistair said, eyeing Serena and Morrigan warily. "Actually... I'll help you..." He rushed off with the mage, glancing over his shoulder.
"He's coming with us," Serena repeated firmly. She glanced at the others, her eyebrow raised in question, but nobody else appeared to have any objections to the mage. Alim and Alistair returned quickly enough, and they headed back up the steps to where the gates to Orzammar loomed above.
"Nice show there, Warden," the lead guard said, his beard twitching into a smile. "You've done us a great service. That fool Imrek was up here barking for a week... Are all humans so touched?"
"Not all, but most," Serena replied, smirking.
The dwarf nodded, still smiling faintly as he motioned the group by. "You are free to enter Orzammar... though I don't know what help you will find."