I had hoped to have gotten this out at the turn of the year, but RL and my muse had other plans. I certainly hope this was worth the wait for you all. A rather emotional chapter for me. Not quite what I had originally planned, though…
My thanks, as always, to those who continue to alert, favorite, read and review: Legionary Prime, csorciere, MemoriesoftheForgottenGuardi an, Kayle5, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Wyl, Shakespira, Moonstonez, Kawaiibentou
Halla Reborn
Chapter 76
Exhaustion permeated every fiber of her being; all she wanted to do was bury herself deeply under the heavy blankets upon her far too large bed and simply hibernate. Her eyes felt heavy and scratchy, and an ache had settled into her face.
The Blight be damned at this point; all she wanted was to sleep.
However, Natia had arrived at the townhouse, Gail in tow, with news of how the armies Adela had spent over a year collecting were now congregating outside of Denerim, ensconced within the surrounding forests, ready to answer her call. Tired as she was, she was heartened to hear how the Dalish, dwarves, former Werewolves and Chasind were, not only cohabitating peacefully, but working out strategy as well.
Strategy had never been her strong suit. She was rather pleased that the various groups found a way in which to pull their combined strengths and coordinate them.
"The Legion of the Dead is even coming up into the sun!" The Queen's Scout exclaimed, her excitement regarding the legendary division palpable as she bounced upon the balls of her feet, her pretty face flushed with pride. A small smile crossed Adela's lips as the former casteless continued to gush about the Legion. Most of the Legion's make up was from the casteless sect, those who give up their former lives to battle against the darkspawn in the deepest known parts of the Deep Roads. Gail grinned at her fellow elf as the dwarf's enthusiasm brought a rather needed air of energy into the room.
At least something was going right.
The ever enthusiastic Natia had wanted Adela to take her around Denerim, for the casteless dwarf was excited about being able to, not only enter the noble district without anyone calling her filthy names or forcing her to leave but to take the opportunity to tour the market place. Coin was burning a hole in her pocket and she wanted nothing more than to be able to browse the various stalls as a potential buyer worthy of spending her coin as she wished.
Gail, ever perceptive, had taken note of just how haggard Adela had appeared, and managed to coax the adorable little dwarf into allowing her to accompany her, rather than drag Adela from her own much needed preparations and rest.
Giving the red-headed elf a grateful look, Adela bid the pair a good day, and saw them out, back into the bustling streets of the city.
Once the pair vanished from the townhouse's front steps, she retired to her chambers, firmly locking the door behind her, Haftner her only company.
DA:O
The tattooed elves walked along the dirty paths of the Alienage, sharp eyes scanning the worn down buildings within the ghetto. Pol frowned as elves he had grown up with took a step back, eyes wary and, in most cased, filled with awe as the Dalish elves walked within their domain. The young former alienage elf had hoped someone would approach them. His dismay was tenfold as he took in just how rundown the alienage appeared now as compared to when he had left just over a year prior. The elves they passed appeared thinner, paler, and warier than ever. Wondering what had happened during his absence, the youngest of the trio led the others, knowing that there would be at least one or two other elves who would be able to answer their questions.
They entered the mouth into the alienage common, the Vhenadahl tree standing as majestically as ever. He paused to stare at the ancient tree with reverence, awaiting the awe to fill the eyes of his companions. He was, therefore, greatly disappointed as the pair barely glanced at the majestic Tree of the People, their eyes scanning the crowd within. With a sigh, he turned, adding his own sight, smiling widely as his blue eyes fixed upon a familiar head of bright red.
DA:O
"I am uncertain I wish to face her at this moment," Loghain muttered as Fergus showed him to the study.
His fellow Teyrn nodded his head, gaze moving toward the window, outwards to the neglected gardens, wherein the giant, the Sten, sparred with Ser Roland, the giant's marvelous greatsword smashing with ringing violence upon the knight's griffon emblazoned shield. Just at the perimeter of the gardens stood the blond elven assassin, conversing quietly with both male mages, the dark haired one standing closer to the elf than did the blond. Turning, he fixed his dark gaze upon the elder man, noting the lines of worry and concern that stood out prominently upon his sharp, haggard features.
"The sooner the two of you speak, Loghain…" Fergus had begun, cut off by a slightly raised hand and the barest of nods from his fellow.
Taking a breath, Fergus asked, "I can get her and bring her here for the two of you to speak?"
Shaking his head, Loghain turned toward the door. "Perhaps it would be best if I speak with her privately."
Fergus frowned. "You don't think that she deserves to be advised you wish to speak with her?" His voice was heavy with concern for the young elf he had come to admire and knew he could call a friend. "It just seems like she's being ambushed…again."
Loghain blinked at his companion's blunt words, but nodded in agreement. "Perhaps a little warning would be in order."
With a nod, Fergus turned to the door. "I will go up and tell her you are here. And let her decide if she wishes to speak with you."
Loghain watched as the younger noble left the room, and then turned back toward the window, eyes fixed upon the warriors sparring, but not truly watching. A few moments later, Fergus returned and Loghain turned from the window to face the younger lord.
Fergus nodded, meeting the other at the door, pushing it open and directing him to the stairs. "She agrees to meet with you. Her rooms are on the next level, third door to the left." He then reached out and placed a hand upon Loghain's forearm. The elder looked up, a question in his eyes. "She appears exhausted. Just…take care."
Nodding his thanks, the tall figure of the Teyrn of Gwaren made his way to the stairs, climbing them slowly, an air of sorrow swallowing his form as he climbed the stairs.
Frowning deeply, Fergus turned back to the study, stepping to the bar to pour himself a brandy. Eyes fixed upon the smoky liquid, he listened to the footsteps as the elder man climbed upwards, eyes closing as the sound of a fist upon wood resounded, echoing in his mind as he brought the glass to his lips.
DA:O
Riordan passed through the gathered camps of the dwarves, Dalish, Chasind and Wolves as he made his way back into Denerim. He kept his ears and eyes open, nodding as he passed by, offering greetings to those who called out to the Grey Warden. Just before leaving the perimeter of the gathered, he turned, his dark eyes taking in the numerous warriors that spanned the area, taking over and flanking deeply into the surrounding forest.
These armies that Adela Tabris had gathered to defeat the Blight.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Amazement still overtook the senior Grey Warden as he considered how two recruits – one only a Grey Warden for barely six months before Ostagar, the other a raw recruit just passed her Joining – had managed to gather not only upon the traditional treaties, but others who owed no allegiances to the Grey Wardens – or Ferelden, for that matter – whatsoever.
Now he wondered if his plans should not be altered as he pondered whether these armies would follow any other but Adela.
He wondered this, not from his own imaginings, but from the various gathered conversations he had happened by. Interspersed with strategy discussions, war room planning and general getting to know the diverse groups gathered within a relatively small space were praises for the young elven Warden who had gathered them there in the first place. The respect that rang out at the mention of Adela's name was obvious.
And not because she was a Grey Warden.
Whatever she had done to gain the loyalty of these groups surpassed any call to honor an ancient treaty.
Turning, he resumed his march back to Denerim.
His plans may have to be altered; however, he could not ignore the fact that Adela Tabris was no longer a Grey Warden.
DA:O
It was only the shifting of the bed that alerted her that someone stood beyond the closed door to her chamber. Haftner rose, a slight growl turning up the lips of his great maw, large, brown eyes fixed upon the entryway. With a slight whine, his head tilted slightly as footsteps beyond shifted slightly. Adela raised a hand to her mabari's head, watching as the great beast shifted towards the edge of the bed and jumped to the floor. Taking his cue from his mistress, the great war hound took his position at the doorway.
A tentative knock sounded upon the door's wood and, with a heavy sigh, Adela straightened her wrinkled clothes – breeches and tunic of green and brown – and stepped to the door.
She was grateful Fergus had come to her, asking if she wished to speak with Loghain. It had seemed as though so much had been taken out of her hands that this small gesture meant a great deal to her. She opened the door and opened her mouth to speak a greeting to the man who stood at the threshold.
Her voice caught as she blinked up into the weary and ragged features of her lifelong friend. The man she had had a crush on as a child; the man who had, in many ways – whether willing or not - shaped the events of her life.
"Adela," he spoke her name quietly, even more tentatively than his knock had been. Sapphire blue eyes scanned his features, watching as a multitude of emotions raced upon the hard planes of his face: sorrow, weariness, wariness, concern…fear.
With a deep breath, she reached out and took his hand, pulling him into her chambers. The great war hero glanced down upon her tiny hand, tightening his grasp upon it, and stepped uncertainly into her room and watched as she turned and closed the door behind them.
Silence reigned for many moments, both staring down at their clasped hands, uncertainty heavy within both hearts. Loghain knew that the young woman before him should be angry – angry at the current circumstance that had deprived her of her freedom, home, family and friends, and now, most recently, her husband. She should be livid at him for supporting Alistair's rise to the throne. He was surprised, then, when he felt her thumb move along his large, gnarled hand, rubbing circles along the side of his thumb. Looking carefully into her face, he watched as those large eyes filled with unshed tears as she blinked, staring down upon their hands.
"Adela," he tried again, his voice catching with his own sorrow. His sorrow at the loss of so many lives due to his weakness against the blood mage; his sorrow at the loss of his daughter, the loss of the innocence of the girl he had known since birth. The daughter of one of his dearest friends, someone he had…loved as much as he had loved Maric and Rowan.
Those devastated eyes rose, capturing his heart with the sheer volume of grief that flooded them. She blinked, and a single tear beaded and rolled from her eye, trailing down one tanned cheek, stopping at the slightly pointed chin.
Raising his free hand, Loghain wiped the tear away. "I am sorry," he finally voiced, finding the words insignificant and unworthy of what the girl had gone through this past year.
She nodded, pulling her hand free of his, and turned away. Haftner whined, moving to his mistress's side, and Loghain's attention slipped to the great war beast, watching as the dog bumped its massive head against the girl's hip, prompting a slender hand to rest upon its crown.
"That is a marvelous hound you have there," the Teyrn spoke, wanting to fill the silence that had risen, uncomfortable and stifling, within the chamber.
The elf nodded, continuing to pet the dog's head, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "He has been a loyal friend," she whispered, Haftner pushing harder against her hip in response to her words. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back to her old friend, eyes fixed once again upon his face.
"Loghain," she started, frowning slightly. "I…know that Ferelden needs a ruler. That…Alistair…" her voice faltered. When Loghain took a step nearer her, she took an equal step back, keeping the distance between them constant. The Teyrn frowned at the move, but stood still, understanding the girl's need at the moment.
"I am sorry for the way it came about," he murmured. "No one truly believes the allegations he spat…"
She shook her head, denying his words. "No, Loghain. I don't need for you to lie for me." Lids closed over those eyes, and she gave a slight shake of her head. "I'm not even really certain what his allegations are." Her head tilted downward slightly, not a show of defeat, but one more of thought. "I knew he was jealous of Roland when they were both…" she shrugged, "vying for my attention. But I thought I had made it clear that he was who I love." She turned away. "I just never suspected…" A shake cleared her thoughts and stopped her words, and Loghain frowned deeply as she gathered her emotions and thoughts.
Raising her head, eyes open, she gave a slight shrug. "I am sorry about Anora." Her voice cracked at the naming of her friend, tears anew filling her eyes. "I wish I had been more able to defend her…"
Loghain would hear none of it. He raised a hand, a silent plea for her to cease that direction of self-condemnation. "All that has happened, since Ostagar to the Landsmeet, can be placed firmly upon my shoulders," Loghain remarked, his voice heavy with grief and guilt.
"That's not true!" Adela spat, anger coloring her words, causing her eyes to narrow and dry the tears. "It was that blood mage…"
"A mage – a child of Maric - whose very existence I knew of," Loghain finished for her. "And kept hidden away."
Adela blinked, confusion crinkling her brow as she stepped back.
"You…knew?" she asked, frowning up at her friend, who nodded as he turned away to gather his own thoughts.
"Yes," he replied after a moment's silence, head bowed, shoulders slumped slightly in a manner Adela had never seen before in her friend.
"I knew of both of Maric's illegitimate sons." He turned back to Adela, noting the surprise that set fully upon her face. "The blood mage, Arawn, was the middle son," he sneered those words out, anger at his friend for his indiscretion against Rowan seeping into his body language and words. "Younger than Cailan by a few months." He shook his head. "The mage sought revenge, thinking that Maric had known of his existence and that it was he who had place him in the Circle when he and his mother had tried to meet with him." The anger quickly left the man's body, shoulders slumping once more as he continued to face the young elf.
"What happened?"
Sighing heavily, Loghain paced to the left, a hand at his brow. "I learned of their plans to try and get Maric to acknowledge the boy," the frown deepened. "I made certain Maric never learned of the boy's existence. It was I who sent the Templars after the pair. The boy's mother was killed in the exchange. When Arawn escaped the circle, he sought vengeance for her death and his imprisonment."
The man fell silent as Adela pondered his words. "You sought to protect Maric," she whispered.
"And Ferelden," Loghain finished. "Had word gotten out that Maric had another son, mere months younger than Cailan, those who were his enemy or the enemy of Ferelden would have sought to use the boy to their own purposes. And cause harm to our country."
Shaking her head, turning her back to her friend, Adela replied. "It would seem that harm had occurred regardless of your intentions."
The words spoken were not meant to be unkind or to inflict pain, spoken as they were in her soft voice. Yet they were honest in their assessment, and Loghain could not deny them. The honesty of the words penetrated his heart, the weight of it bowing his head.
Nodding, Loghain stepped toward the girl, who remained facing away from him. "My desire to protect Ferelden caused all of this."
Adela took a breath, deep and lung filling, letting it out slowly between her lips. With a quick nod of her head, she turned back to face her anguished friend. "You gave the mage a reason for what he had done. But, I think that someone like him would have found a reason – any reason – to try and gain the power he sought." Loghain moved to speak, but she held up a hand. "Yes, your actions brought all of this upon us. If that is what you want to think, so be it." Her voice was hard, and Loghain flinched, despite how he agreed with her opinion. "But it was Arawn who choose to act out of anger and malice, who turned to blood magic to seek vengeance. Not every mage who enters the Circle enters peacefully. Yet not every mage seeks harm upon those who had placed them there. And certainly not against any innocents, as Arawn had."
Shaking his head, Loghain moved to argue with her, but the elf would have none of it. Anger now fueled her words…anger at her friend, at the mage, at Alistair. All of the pain and sacrifice made during the more than thirteen months they had been fighting against Loghain, Arawn and the Blight was taking its toll.
"Take your share of the blame, Loghain," she remarked, staring up into his eyes. Then, her voice softened. "But only your share."
Loghain stared down at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Adela…"
"By your logic, Loghain," she said softly, "then the people truly to blame would be Maric and Arawn's mother. Had they not…ah…gotten together, Arawn would never have been born."
"That makes no sense, Adela," Loghain gently chided her.
A blonde brow quirked up, but there was no amusement in those eyes. "It makes just as much sense as you shouldering all of the blame." Came her quick retort.
Silence fell again, this time with Loghain searching the face of the girl he had thought he had known. There was a strength in her he had never noticed before, a determination that bordered upon hardness that seemed wrong, knowing how gentle a soul the girl truly was. "How did you become so wise?" He finally asked, watching as her eyes closed and head tipped forward.
"I'm not wise," she finally replied, giving a slight shrug of uncertainty, tipping her head so that he could not see her face nor look into her eyes. "I've just seen…a lot during this past year. Things I had never dreamed existed, things I wish I had never seen." There was a shudder, and Loghain had to wonder exactly what horrors the girl had been exposed to during her tenure as a Grey Warden. "There is enough pain, enough you will have to make up for, without your starting to second guess everything you do from this point on out."
"Like supporting Alistair's rise to the throne," Loghain's voice was even softer, concern for the girl evident.
The flinch that crossed her face told him he was right. Her whispered "Yes," confirmed it even more.
"I am sorry for that, Adela," he moved closer, wanting to put his arms around her slender form, somehow knowing that, at this time it would be unwelcome.
Her response was a mere nod and the turning away yet again.
"I take it the Landsmeet confirmed him as king?" she asked, her voice very small, fragile, and Loghain felt renewed anger flood him as he watched her.
"Yes."
She nodded, simply once, and said nothing for another moment. Taking a breath, finally, she turned around, the tension that held Loghain's body rigid easing as she met his eyes. "He will make a good king," she said.
Loghain stared at the girl, frowning. "Provided he does not allow Eamon to pull his strings," the Teyrn could not help but spit out. To his surprise, the elf nodded her agreement.
"I don't know what part Eamon played in this," Adela's voice regained that hard edge, and Loghain found himself frowning – again – at the uncharacteristic hardening of her eyes. "But I am certain he had something to do with Alistair's setting me aside as he did."
"If events still occurred as they did," Loghain's voice faltered, tears threatening from behind his eyes as his thoughts rested upon his daughter. He continued. "Would you have stepped aside for Alistair to ascend the throne?"
There was silence, heavy and uncertain. With a sigh, Adela shrugged her shoulders. "I want to say that yes, I would." She turned back to her friend, and he saw the uncertainly in her eyes. "But, I honestly don't know. I loved him…" she shook her head, clearing her throat. "I love that idiot. I had thought we would spend the rest of our lives together – for however long that would be. But, now…" her voice trailed off.
"If it means anything, I think you would have done the right thing," Loghain offered.
Blue eyes snapped up, anger and heat in them. "Really? The right thing, Loghain? Giving up the man I love would have been the 'right thing'?"
Ice blue eyes narrowed. "For Ferelden?" Loghain gritted back. "Yes."
"Always for Ferelden," it was almost a whisper. She had to reign in her anger. Ferelden was starting to mean less to her, and she knew that it was simply her hurt and anger making her feel this way. She was surprised by the resentment that flooded her very being, astonished at just how much she wanted to lash out at the man before her. It wasn't his fault. She truly believed that. But, right at this moment, he was presenting himself perfectly as a target for her ire.
It was unfair, however, and she turned away, going to her knees to hug Haftner close to her. She knew it was a vulnerable move, as a child seeking comfort in a well-loved doll or pet. But, she found she didn't care. She was vulnerable; hurt and angry; had no parent to turn to, her cousins each having to deal with their own sorrows and hurts; her friends…well, she did not feel comfortable in turning to them.
And, Loghain had lost as much as she had. He had been victim as well, more of a victim than any others in this convoluted mess. She could not – would not – turn to him for comfort, either. Not with that knowledge of his pain, or with the anger currently twisting her heart and emotions.
Some may say it was justice that Loghain had suffered as he had, having unleashed a blood mage's power and madness upon Ferelden. Adela chose not to see it that way.
Face buried in Haftner's shoulder, she asked in a voice muffled, "What did the Landsmeet decide regarding you?"
If he was surprised by the change of subject and the girl's demeanor, Loghain did an admirable job in hiding it. "I am to remain as general of Ferelden's armies."
There was another pause.
"And me?"
The question was hesitant. Frowning heavily, Loghain reached down, grasping hold of Adela's upper arm and pulling her up. Turning her to face him, she raised her face to his. "You are the Warden Commander of Ferelden," he said, his voice strong. "You have gathered your allies and armies to assist in our fight against the Blight." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "As Grey Wardens always do."
Chuckling without humor, she shook her head. "You've never trusted the Grey Wardens."
Smirking slightly, Loghain responded, "No," he agreed, "However, I do trust you."
She blinked, and the tension she had felt eased from her. "So…" she didn't know how to phrase her question. For the most part, throughout the year, she had been relying upon the treaties to get those sworn to the Wardens to do their part. For other allies, she had run errands, performed quests or simply relied upon others within her sphere of friends for their own skills in garnering said allies. Now that she had them…
"You and I, with the commanders of each division, will coordinate the armies gathered," that smile widened more, and he placed a hand to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I am impressed, by the way, Adela." Her brow crinkled slightly at his words. "The armies you have gathered – the dwarves, Dalish, mages and Templars…Chasind and other warriors…" he smiled. "Rather reminds me of Maric when we fought the Orlesians."
The smile that crossed her face was genuine. "Really?" her voice was almost childlike at the praise.
Chuckling, Loghain gave in to his urge to hug the girl. "Yes," he said, his rumbling chest shaking the young elf in his arms. "Maric had a way of impressing people to do what was right, even when he, at times, seemed to forget that."
Shaking her head, she pulled away. "I don't recall Mother ever stating that Maric ever impressed her," she laughed, forcing the anger and sorrow down for a moment to just enjoy the memories of her mother and King Maric.
Loghain's features softened at the mention of Adaia. "Your mother," he paused, the smile on his face softening with memory. "Your mother may never have admitted it, but she did care about Maric. He just had a tendency to grate upon her nerves."
Adela sighed, stepping away from Loghain, but maintaining a comfortable nearness to him. "I wish Mother had told me more of her time during the Rebellion."
Eyes fixed upon the young elf, Loghain quietly agreed. "Your mother," Loghain's voice threatened to break with the sudden emotion that welled within him. "was always of a mind that each step in a person's life should be lived separately from the rest. She had been a warrior of the Dalish. When she chose to join the war against the Orlesians, she became a warrior of Ferelden. Once that goal had been accomplished, she made the decision to remain in Denerim to be with your father, as simply an elf."
He smirked as Adela's raised a brow. "Oh, she still retained her Dalish pride. There is no denying that. But she recognized each event as a different chapter in her life. I think that perhaps she kept silent of her time fighting at our sides because that time didn't help anything that she was dealing with. She was a champion for the elves in the Alienage," He paused, a smile upon his face, his rough voice soft. "and a better champion the elves could never have asked for."
"I know she knew Duncan," Adela offered, watching her friend as he slipped into memory, wondering what exactly he was thinking of as he considered her mother.
Loghain nodded. "Went on some fool adventure, helping the Grey Wardens mere months after your birth." He confirmed, his smile slipping somewhat, eyes dimming as his mind fell into memory. "She was changed when she returned," there was a hint of sorrow in his voice, "And never spoke of what happened during those weeks she was gone."
Loghain was startled from his reverie when Adela placed a small hand upon his forearm. "Thank you, Loghain," she whispered, her other hand upon Haftner's head. "I appreciate you coming here to speak with me."
"Honestly, I was uncertain what I could possibly say that would make any difference to you," the man admitted, his eyes fixed upon Adela's face.
A shrug answered his comment. "I didn't know how to feel when I saw you at the door," the elf said, eyes shifting to the side. "I just feel so…well," she scrubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes, "tired for the most part. Anger is in there, but mostly, I just want this all over." She tipped her head down. "I want Father back and safe, with the others. I want Anora here, telling us all what we need to hear, just as she always had. I want to hear Cailan's laugh again… I just…" she lifted her head, the sorrow once more heavy in those eyes, and Loghain found himself wishing for the brief moment of laughter the pair had found mere moments before. "want." She finished.
Head bowed, Loghain stepped forward and pulled the girl into another loose embrace. He felt her small hands at his back, and he nodded. "As do we all, kiddo."
The pair remained standing in their embrace for a few more moments, breaking apart at the knock that resounded at her door. Smiling softly up into Loghain's face, Adela moved away, opening the door to Wynne's kindly face.
"Ah, child," her eyes went to Loghain briefly before returning to rest upon Adela's face, concern quite clearly marking her matronly features. "There's a messenger from the alienage downstairs, asking to speak with you."
Glancing over at Loghain, Adela patted her hip, bringing her mabari to her side. "Thank you, Wynne," she said softly as Loghain stepped from her room, and followed the pair of women downstairs.
DA:O
Alistair paced his chambers, scowling impotently at the door to his chambers. The Landsmeet had confirmed him as king. The coronation would have to wait until the Blight had been dealt with. Despite the lack of ceremony, he was now king.
And never before had he felt as lost and alone as he did at this moment.
The Landsmeet, as they faced down the blood mage, seemed a blur, remembered only as one could recall a distance past event. The events were unclear, barely tangible now. However, the hurt in Adela's eyes he could quite clearly see.
What had made him say such things to her…? Even those reasons seemed unclear to his still befuddled memory.
A soft knock resounded upon his chamber's door and the young king turned, calling out for whoever stood beyond to enter. He watched as the door swung open and Eamon stepped through, his gray hair combed back and held from his face in two small braids, his clear gray eyes fixed upon the younger man within. He seemed to take note of Alistair's frown and stepped nearer the young man.
"Is something on your mind, Alistair?" Eamon asked, his voice quiet as his eyes searched Alistair's face.
Scrubbing a large hand across his face, Alistair turned away from Eamon, breaking the connection of gray eyes to amber. He missed the frown that creased the elder man's features, but felt a hand upon his shoulder, urging him to turn about.
Giving in to the unspoken demand, Alistair turned, eyes fixing once more to the Arl's.
"I'm just…thinking…"
"And worrying," Eamon finished with a slight smile, his eyes holding Alistair's own in a powerful gaze.
"It's just…am I really ready to be king?" Alistair asked, his eyes remaining held by Eamon's gaze. "And, what I said to Adela…" he shook his head, yet seemed unable to break from the other man's gaze. "I just…"
"Easy, Alistair," Eamon's smile softened. "Perhaps you were a bit…harsh with Mistress Tabris," He conceded, causing Alistair to flinch visibly. "However, you are meant to be king. You have the ability and skills, Alistair," he said kindly, offering that smile as a grimace crossed the younger man's face. "You are simply in need of experience and proper guidance for you to truly lead our nation as you should."
The grimace deepened to a frown, and Alistair shook his head. "If how I handled Adela is any indication of my kingliness…" he began, but Eamon cut him short with a sharp shake of his graying head.
"Nonsense," he admonished, gripping Alistair about one shoulder. "The girl…ah…Adela is a strong young woman. And she understands politics better than most in her…position," Alistair's frown waivered. "She was, after all, a close friend with both Anora and Cailan. She knows her place. And, unfortunately, it cannot be at your side."
Amber eyes broke the penetrating stare of those gray eyes, and Alistair turned away, unaware of the frown that creased Eamon's face. "Still doesn't make me feel any better," the young man mumbled as he turned his stare unseeingly toward the window.
With a heavy sigh, a hand fell to his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Usually, a worthy goal does make one uneasy, especially when one has ascended to greatness in such a sudden manner."
Back and shoulders stiffening, a moment of rebelliousness overcame the former Warden. Turning only very slightly, eyes shifting to the peripheral, Alistair quipped out, "Especially when that 'one' has been told repeatedly how…unworthy he is of that position."
Eamon blinked, scowling slightly as the young king turned his back more fully to his former foster-father. Taking a breath, he gave a curt nod to the still turned back. "I'll return later, Alistair, and, with luck, you shall be in a clearer minded mood." He turned to the door, glancing back to take note that Alistair had not turned back toward him. "I shall see you for this evening's meal."
Without acknowledging him, Alistair stood, listening for the door to close firmly behind him. Only once Eamon had left did his mind clear once more and he blinked rapidly, and continued to stare out the window.
This time, not quite as unseeing as just a moment prior.
DA:O
Tips of fingers lightly brushed along her brow as she followed Wynne down the stairs, Haftner at her side, Loghain slightly behind. His presence was comforting, familiar. She realized that he and Alistair were about the same height, and she startled, realizing that having the familiar size behind her added to her feeling of comfort and, more importantly, safe. Tears prickled at her eyes again as she realized that it was an illusion; Alistair would no longer walk beside or slightly behind her again. He had believed whatever lies had been whispered in his ears. He no longer loved nor wanted her.
Suddenly, all she wanted to do was run headlong back into her chamber, messenger from the alienage or not. Again, she was being childish. And, yet again, she did not care. She wanted to be childish right now, to wallow in whatever self-pity she could. Her friends would allow her a moment of such, she was certain. Just the manner with which Wynne, even now, glanced over her shoulder to the younger woman told Adela that much. She could see how elder mage's hands would twitch slightly, as though she wanted to grasp hold of something; the slight twitter of her lips whenever she glanced toward the elf, concern and motherly affection shining brightly in those clear, blue eyes.
To feel those comforting arms about her shoulders, to allow her a place to lay her head and give out a good cry…those fingers stilled, moving down to rub at her eyes. She missed the concern with which Wynne watched her, moving blindly down the stairs and to the entryway where the elf from the alienage awaited.
The nearly crippling self-pity dissipated at the sight of the young elven man that stood, leaning against the wall, dark red hair shining starkly against the clean white of the walls. A smirk crossed his handsome, pale features as he straightened and moved toward the other.
"Adela," Soris pulled the girl forward and into his arms, long, slender hands brushing into her hair as she buried her face into his shoulder. Wynne gave a look to Loghain and steered him toward the study, where Fergus remained.
"What are you doing here?" Adela's muffled voice asked, her face remaining buried in her cousin's shoulder as he continued to pat at her head.
The bluest of eyes closed slightly as the elder cousin took in the sorrow and defeat he heard in his cousin's voice. "We've visitors to the alienage," he replied before kissing Adela upon one exposed temple. She pulled back, looking up into her cousin's still far-too-pale face, smiling slightly as he smiled down at her.
"Visitors?" She asked, voice small and strained. "But, why would they send you…? You're still recovering."
Chuckling, he pulled her in for a quick hug before releasing her, grasping her hand to pull her toward the door. "I needed air," he offered simply. When Adela did not move with him, he turned, sighing deeply. "I am feeling better, Cousin," he offered simply. "Shianni is busy entertaining our guests, and I just really wanted to be the one to drag you home."
Adela blinked up at him, unable to prevent her smile from widening at him. 'Home' certainly did sound good at this moment.
Soris's smile faltered slightly, his dark blue eyes turning serious for a moment. "We heard about…well, that we have a new king," he started, his speech uncertain, especially as he watched his cousin's pretty smile fall. Stepping nearer her, he gave her a kiss on the forehead, rubbing a thumb along the lines that formed there. "I'm sorry," he whispered, understanding her sorrow.
Nodding, she looked up. "You said something about taking me home and visitors?" She prompted, wanting to just give up this feeling of helplessness and deal with something that seemed far more enjoyable.
A dark brow twitched slightly, the corner of his mouth turning up in a familiar lopsided grin. "Yup. So, grab your cloak, and let's get goin'. Shianni's very excited about this!"
Sparing a glance over her shoulder, Adela turned back to her cousin. "C'mon," she said, this time being the one pulling on the other cousin. "I don't need a cloak. Let's just go."
Smirking at her sudden impatience, Soris quickstepped around her, opened the door and, with an exaggerated bow to his now famous cousin, led her out into the streets and back to the alienage.
DA:O
Shianni's bright red hair gleamed in the sun, catching the attention of one of the alienage's Dalish visitors. Theron smiled over at the younger elf, watching as she chatted animatedly with Pol.
"I just can't believe you actually found them!" the girl exclaimed, hands flailing about as she spoke to a much quieter Pol. "Your brother…"
"How is Taeodor?" the young blond asked as Shianni paused, her complexion paling slightly at how she had referenced Pol's elder brother.
Theron had noticed the change in the girl's demeanor, and stepped forward, concern marring his heavily tattooed features.
"Shianni?" Pol insisted, gripping the now still girl's arm, "Where is Taeodor?"
Sniffling slightly, Shianni lifted pain ridden eyes to Pol's bright blues. "I'm so sorry, Pol. Slavers took Taeodor."
"Slavers…" Pol question, brows twisting in confusion. "How…?"
Taking a breath, Shianni's gaze slipped toward the alienage's gates, trying to wish the appearance of her brother and cousin. She had not meant to bring up Taeodor or any of what had happened recently in the alienage to Pol. Not now, not when there had been such a small thing to celebrate: Pol's return and Dalish visiting their alienage, fighting alongside Adela against the Blight.
But neither Soris nor Adela magically appeared before them, and she turned back toward the other elf.
"There has been a great deal that has happened since you left, Pol," Shianni began, stumbling over her words. She knew she was not the person to be speaking to Pol – or anyone – about this. She hadn't the words, the mannerism nor patience to do so. Either Soris or Adela were far more suited to this.
But neither of them was present. And she did not feel it right to leave Pol with questions.
And, so, she relayed how Bann Kendall's son, Vaughn, had interrupted Soris and Adela's wedding day; how the young noble had kidnapped several of the women, including Adela, for his own amusement. She skipped over how both she and Adela had been raped, how Nola had been killed how Nelaros had been captured.
She spoke of how Adela had become a Grey Warden, and watched with amusement as Pol's eyes widened in disbelief. She chuckled at that, admitting that she, too, had felt that Adela was possibly the worst person to choose to fight.
Then she told of how rumors had begun that a plague had hit the alienage, and that the gates were henceforth shuttered against the rest of Denerim. The Tevinters arrived, claiming a cure, but, in truth, they turned out to be slavers, sanctioned by the Regent and his minions.
Theron and Junar listened, anger tightening their throats, watching as Pol's tanned complexion paled and fists tightened at his sides. Only when Shianni advised how Adela and others had survived the massacre at Ostagar and then returned, to rid the alienage of the slavers' influence did the Dalish elves relax their stance – if only slightly.
None of them noticed as a pair of blue eyed elves made their way to where their small huddle stood, beneath the Tree of the People. Shianni paused in her story telling, frowning as she contemplated what more needed to be said.
"It should be clarified that the Regent was under the influence of a blood mage," Adela called from the side, smiling at her cousin's slight flush as she looked up at her brother and cousin. With a side glance to Soris, Adela stepped forward, bowing her head slightly to the pair of Dalish warriors who watched her closely, then stepping to stand directly in front of Pol.
Her blue eyes searched the other elf's face, smiling at the slight changes she could see. He had matured, and even sported a scar along the side of his face. He was no longer pale, and seemed to have grown in the year he had been gone, his form now lithe with muscleture and maturity.
"It's good to see you again, Pol," Adela said warmly, and then turned toward the Dalish standing at their backs. "I am Adela Th…" She stopped there, frowning, "I am Adela Mahariel Tabris," she began again, her smile weaker than before, but still present. She missed Soris and Shianni's exchange of concerned glances over her head. "Warden Commander of Ferelden."
Smiling warmly, Theron stepped forward, bending an arm across his chest as he bowed deeply to the female elf. "This," he gestured toward Junar, "is Junar," the elf copied Theron's movements, adding a slight smile to the pretty blonde elven woman. "And I am Theron Mahariel. Both of Clan Sabrae."
Adela's eyes widened as Theron introduced himself. "Mahariel?" She asked, her voice small with awe.
Smirking, Theron nodded. "I understand your mother was once of our clan."
"Yes," Adela replied, "My mother was Adaia Mahariel."
The smile upon Theron's face widened. "I believe I met her when I was a babe," he said, stepping nearer to the girl. "My foster mother, Ashalle, told me that I met my aunt when I was just a fledgling."
"Aunt?" Adela's smile widened. "So, that means you and I are cousins?"
"Truly," Theron glanced around the alienage, trying hard not to show the disapproval upon his face at the rundown appearance of the place. He did not wish to insult his cousin and her kin. "I had hoped to meet Aunt Adaia's child when I came to Denerim. I had no idea she was the very same Grey Warden Commander that had gathered the People to battle the Blight."
The young Warden flushed with pleasure at the praise. "I am certain my mother would be more than pleased that her people were present when the Archdemon is defeated."
At those words, Theron threw his head back, his dark, curly hair tickling along his shoulders as he let out a great laugh. Junar and Pol exchanged wide grins as the other elves merely looked at the strange elf as it he had lost his mind.
"You should be a Keeper, Adela!" Theron praised the girl when his merriment eased. "For certainly your words could lead even the most xenophobic of our people to battle beside the humans."
Feeling completely at ease with her wild cousin, Adela stepped back, hip back as she crossed her arms before her chest. "What?" she asked, a teasing quality to her voice that had both Shianni and Sori smiling. "Don't you believe that the People would battle the Blight regardless of whom they fight beside?"
Meeting her gaze with his own dark stare, Theron's smile remained. "In all honesty, I believe that, had the Grey Wardens not secured a treaty, many of my people would simply pick up camp and move beyond Ferelden's borders."
Beside him, Junar nodded his head sagely, while Pol simply stared at the man who had become, in many ways, his idol. A thoughtful frown crossed Adela's face at her Dalish cousin's words, but she found that she could not dispute his statement. The Dalish, on the whole, felt they owed nothing to humans. And, they would view Ferelden as a human land. The clans had no place they could call their own. Why would they willingly give up their lives for a land that, not only was not theirs but made them as unwelcome as possible?
She said as much to her cousin, who merely nodded his head in reply. After a moment, she raised her head, eyes scanning, taking in the alienage that had been her home for most of her life. She found herself feeling a little nostalgic, missing the closeness she had grown up with. Turning back to her cousin, childhood friend and their companion, she gave them a wide smile.
"How about we three," she pointed toward Shianni and Soris, and back to herself, "give you a tour of the alienage?"
Pol smirked over at the girl. "I doubt it's changed that much in the year I've been gone," he replied.
"True," Adela nodded. "But, you are now Dalish, Pol. It would be rude not to show you around and invite you for an evening meal."
Pol's smirk widened into a smile as the elven Warden confirmed his Dalish state. Glancing at his companions, who were nodding their approval, Pol fell in by Theron's side as the other three elves began their tour of his childhood home.
DA:O
After leaving Alistair's chambers, the Arl of Redcliffe had made his way to his own set of rooms, just down the hall from the new king. A dark frown had formed upon his face, smoky gray eyes turning once to glare down the hall as he opened the door to his chambers.
DA:O
I seldom put an author's note at the end, but I felt the need to at this time. I had meant for this chapter to be longer and filled with war time preparations. However, everyone got speaking at me, and this is what happened instead. *cheeky grin*