Chapter Eighteen: So Do Those Who Owe Them a Debt

Previously: As the Crow Flies

 

The key was to use a very sharp dagger, preferably laced with a paralytic.

 

Bann Ceorlic coughed and gargled. If he was trying to speak, there was no point, as Zevran covered the nobleman's mouth with his free hand.

 

The shock of being stabbed, coupled with the poison, kept the old man from wriggling too much.

 

Contrary to the bard's songs, death was not immediate. But Zevran had time; it was a few hours until morning. The alley behind the brothel was empty, and it was a moonless night.

 

"Do not fear, signore," Zevran mused in his deep voice, his accent thick and rolling. "We have the place all to ourselves."

Chapter Seventeen: As the Crow Flies

Previously: World's End

 

Court was packed today, as the King prepared to announce the end of the Blight. Nobles that had hid in their castles were now in Denerim, proudly flaunting their finest velvets. Margeria listened to their excited gossip, about their plans for summer and if the King had already betrothed his eldest heir.

 

Margeria and Orlando exchanged looks. Zevran, as always, was like a statue.

 

"By my right as King," Alistair intoned, smiling broadly at Riordan, "I hereby name Warden Riordan the Hero of Ferelden, He Who slayed the Archdemon, and ended the Blight."

 

The nobles erupted into fervent applause. Margeria and her companions clapped slowly, smirking. The Fereldans by and large still didn't like the new King, nor cared at all for Grey Wardens. The Antivans knew what their newfound enthusiasm really meant. The nobles could get back to their lives now. Borders would open, and trade could resume across Thedas. The widowed could remarry and the survivors could finally inherit.

Chapter Sixteen: World's End

Previously: Blight

 

In the distance, Margeria could hear the drums of war.

 

The rapid beating pounded in time with her thudding heart. She was in her chambers with her servants, her assistant Orlando, and the fully armed elf Zevran. The mood was hushed, and tense.

Chapter Fifteen: Blight

Previously: Game of Heirs

 

There was a new mood at court between the soon-to-be royal couple. King Alistair Theirin and Elissa Cousland appeared to be their old selves, sitting on their thrones and smiling like they used to. It warmed Margeria's heart to see her niece so, and saddened her when she remembered Leonor wasn't here to see this.

 

I must protect the girl, the noblewoman told herself. By any means necessary. 

 

Fergus was absent from court, no doubt wooing the latest object of his affections. Though, "affections" were a bit of an exaggeration; Margeria doubted the young Teyrn would ever love again. 

 

The double doors opened, and there was brief silence in the throne room as the first guests arrived. They were Dalish elves, three of them, and they were led by a tall fierce woman with a scarred face and partially shaved head. She had long blond hair and her face was painted. She looked neither left nor right as she walked towards the throne, her confidence unflinching.

Chapter Fourteen: Game of Heirs

Previously: Blood

 

Fergus Cousland paced the royal sitting room in dismay. The King was thankfully absent, no doubt off drinking with Riordan to recover from the day's excitement. Elissa calmly sat by her fireplace, watching her brother explode.

 

"Our King has a sister," he said.

 

"Yes," Elissa replied coolly.

 

"The King has a sister," Fergus repeated, as he couldn't fathom the words coming out of his own mouth.

 

"Yes."

 

"The King of Ferelden has a blood sister, Elissa, and you failed to mention that for months!" the Teyrn finally roared.  

Chapter Thirteen: Blood

Previously: Anora

 

Fergus Cousland numbly walked the palace gardens. It was a chilly spring evening, and already getting dark. Behind him, he could hear servants lighting torches. In a distant courtyard, he could hear guards practicing their drills.

 

In his youth, he'd longed for this. He imagined that some day he'd be a very important man at the Royal Palace. He'd have a dutiful wife at home in the country, and a beautiful young mistress by his side at court.

 

But then fate handed him a wife he grew to love and respect, and a child he treasured more than his own life. And just easily as fate gifted him these people, it ripped them both away. Now he was without his wife, his son, and his youth, standing alone in the royal gardens.

Chapter Twelve: Anora

Previously: Playing Our Parts

 

Fergus Cousland couldn't believe his eyes when Orlando of Bastion walked into his study.

 

"Brother," Fergus gasped, eyes wide and threatening to water. He immediately rounded his desk to embrace his brother-in-law. "How can this be?"

 

Orlando granted him a lukewarm smile. "Your aunt, Margeria, is the new Antivan Ambassador. I volunteered to accompany her." Like his late sister, Orlando had a very thick accent.

 

"Where are you staying?" Fergus asked. "If you like, you can board with me. The King has granted me this suite of rooms."

 

"I would like nothing more," came the weary reply, "but my duties require that I remain by the Ambassador's side." His eyes narrowed slightly as his tone darkened. "Can't have anymore of our noblewomen dying."

Chapter Eleven: Playing Our Parts

Previously: I Can Do Blood

"You look ridiculous."

Elissa Cousland tugged at her collar. It was high and tight around her neck. Her gown was black and flowing, the bodice taut with long sleeves.

 

She grumbled, "These are Antivan mourning clothes. What's your excuse? You look like a goblet."

 

Alistair glanced down at his robes. For some reason, Isolde insisted in dressing him primarily in gold. Coupled with burgundy accents, the ensembled echoed his brother's armor. And despite understanding the homage, he still felt ridiculous.

Chapter Ten: I Can Do Blood

Previously: Landsmeet

 

They circled each other for several moments, their footsteps immaculately balanced. Fergus's stomach was in knots, but Elissa? Elissa was perfectly calm.

 

When Loghain struck first, swinging his giant sword, she dodged nimbly, almost like a dancer. In fact, she dodged the first several strikes with ease, not bothering to parry or thrust. Fergus thought he might be imagining things, but it seemed as though...

 

"She's toying with him," Alistair said grimly, as if he were reading Fergus's thoughts.

 

Indeed, she was toying with the older warrior, like a cat with prey. She ducked and weaved and spun on her heels, circling Loghain over and over until he became visibly frustrated.

 

She's a Grey Warden. Fergus didn't understand why it had taken him so long to understand this. It suddenly occurred to him he'd never truly seen a Warden in action. He'd never even seen a darkspawn, and yet on her first hunt, Elissa killed three of them on her own.

 

Fergus's eyes widened. The old man never stood a chance.

Chapter Nine: Landsmeet

Previously: Once and Future King

 

10th of Drakonis, 9:31 Dragon

 

My dearest brother Teagann,

 

We have arrived in Denerim safe and sound, hard as that is to believe. I was certain Loghain would send assassins, but moving in secret worked to our advantage.

 

I called the Landsmeet before we left, and other nobles have begun arriving in the capital. Loghain pretended to be unimpressed and even amused by our claim, but I can tell he's uneasy. Rumor has it he's even gone so far as to lock up his own daughter when she challenged his regency.

 

And speaking of Anora, I can already tell she's going to be a problem. She wants the throne, same as her father. She has openly boasted of having successfully run the country for years. When an arl from the south suggested she marry Alistair for the sake of unity, she shot the idea down immediately.

Chapter Eight: Once and Future King

Previously: Matters of the Heart

 

Elissa Cousland blinked, waking. She'd been at Redcliffe Castle for a few days now and was still struggling to get used to the warmth of her bedroom, the cozy softness of her bed. She'd been sleeping on grass, rocks, and hard beds for so long that comfort now seemed unnatural.

 

Her brother had to remind her to call the maids for a bath each morning, and to brush her hair. She drew the line at wearing gowns or even perfume, however. The ever vigilant Warden insisted that gowns were less practical for fighting, and that perfume made her easier to track.

 

Elissa hated the quiet. It forced her to think about all the things she'd rather forget -- trekking for endless hours in the wild, riding in a smelly caravan, traveling for weeks without a proper bath or a satisfying meal. And death... she was tired of death. Tired of losing fellow Wardens, and even tired of watching the light fade from her enemies' eyes.