Reviewer Response:

N7HadroreX: I'm very sorry this took so long to continue: I hope you can forgive me :(

Colin9696: Duncan was picking up the archdemon blood: Will's title comes from his fire abilities, not being a Grey Warden.

The Templar do know about Connor, but right now the Tower's still such a mess (and there are Templar in Redcliffe,) that they're willing to let him stay at home until the Blight is settled.

Unfortunately, all who know about Fiona (IIRC) are dead or far away at this point, so Alistair will likely never find out.

Thanks for the reference.

Eventually, Will will make his own weapon, but he hasn't gotten the material yet (If you've played/watched Awakening, you'll have an idea of what he goes with.)

I'm okay with rambling: it tells me people care enough to write their thoughts.

Rusev: Sorry I made you be more patient than you were probably hoping…

Chaosservant: One of my main problems with Orzammar is there is no good choice. I mean, Harrowmont's less likely to stab everyone around him in the back, but he's also terrible at the job. That's part of the reason I saved Caridin: hopefully he can keep things together.

BL012689: And now I'm casting Animate Dead on it!

Disclaimer: Neither Dragon Age Origins, nor the characters therein, belong to me. I am in no way profiting from this story. I know it's been a while since I updated this story, but hopefully you haven't forgotten about it.

Chapter 28: March on Denerim

As he often had since leaving the oppressive caverns of Orzammar and the Deep Roads, Will paused for a moment to simply look at the sky. It had been nearly a week since the party had set off back towards Redcliffe, and there was still a part of him that could barely believe that they were back in fresh air. For the hundredth time, Will promised that he'd never take such things for granted again.

In the wake of Behlen's failed coup, Will had been worried that he'd have to stay even longer in Orzammar to help clean up the mess, but thank the gods King Harrowmont had told him that everything would be handled by the dwarves themselves. "You've done your more than your share, Warden," he'd said gravely. "Behlen's crimes are an internal affair, and it will be handled by the laws of Orzammar." The old dwarf had sighed. "At least his murdered brothers will finally have peace."

The king had also offered gifts and supplies to help Will and his friends on their way. All of their armor and weapons had been checked over by the best smiths in Orzammar, and anything that was too damaged to be repaired had been replaced. Even Will's own Arcane Warrior armor, which he had feared too old, had received some new sections from old suits that the dwarves had kept from the times of Arlathan, though sadly any records of the trades that might have led to them being acquired had been lost to the Memories.

Most importantly of all, though had been the renewed pledge that Orzammar's forces would be ready by the time the Landsmeet was over.

Of course, not all the news had been good. Shale was no longer with the group: the damage she'd taken fighting the Revenant that Behlen had unleashed had been too severe for her repair runes to handle, so much so that if Caridin had not still been around she would never have been able to move again. Thankfully, the Paragon Smith had assured Will that he'd have Shale ready to travel with the army, along with a few other golems that had volunteered to join her.

"I worry about it," Shale had said from her new position in an ancient smithy off the palace that Caridin had used himself before moving beyond Bownammar (it had taken two golems, six dwarves, Will's telekinesis, and a lot of cursing to carry her there.) "What will it do without me?"

"It'll do quite fine," Will said. "We've gotten all the treaties fulfilled; now all that's left is Loghain, and that'll be a political battle." He'd grinned "You'd have probably gotten bored anyways: sitting in a city without any heads to squish. And there'd have been birds."

"Dreadful," Shale said. A long silence fell before the golem continued. "I… guess that it… that you… have proven to be capable enough." She twitched an arm irritably, the only movement she was still able to make under her own power. "Now begone, it irks me." Will had left with a smirk.

"Gah, now there's more of it."

Bringing himself back to the present; Will looked down at Ogrhen, who was looking somewhat queasy again.

Will hadn't been all that surprised when the dwarven warrior had asked to accompany them back to Redcliffe: for all the accolades he'd received from his heroic rescue of the King, it was clear that they all rang hollow for him. He'd lost his wife, the one person he'd sought for two years; and no matter how they tried to hide it even Will could see the sneers of the nobles. There wasn't any place in Orzammar for Ogrhen anymore, and someone like him needed direction. Will was all too happy to provide that sense of direction: not only was Oghren a talented warrior, but underneath the… unorthodox behavior, he was also a good man.

Though the whining about the sky was getting to be a bit much. "Will you feel better in the castle?" Will asked.

"So long as I get away from this blasted sky, I'll be good," Oghren muttered, taking another swig from his flask. "Are we there yet? I don't want to look up too much."

"It's not far now," Leliana said, throwing Will an amused glance. "We're at Redcliffe, if you look down, and the castle's overlooking it."

Oghren muttered something about wanting to get further from the sky, not closer to it, but the idea that they were almost to a place with a solid roof seemed to please him, as he started trudging up the path, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him.

Smiling at Leliana, Will took a moment to see how everyone else was doing. Zelda and Fergus were walking together with the battered, exhausted horse that the elder Cousland must have ridden in on. Wynne had given Fergus the sharp side of her tongue for abusing the poor creature, but had finally admitted that, so long as it got plenty of rest and was not ridden, it would recover well enough. The Senior Enchanter herself was taking her turn riding in the back of Bodhan's wagon, talking with Jowan and Alistair as they walked alongside. Morrigan and Sten were having some sort of a debate, and from the queasy look on the witches face it wasn't something that she found pleasant. Will considered briefly listening it: it took a lot to make Morrigan nervous, but in the end he decided that he didn't want to know.

As they reached the gate, Will noticed there were quite a few banners flying at various points, and not just those of Redcliffe and Rainesfere. "The other nobles who have joined us here," Fergus said, following Will's gaze as he stepped up to stand next to him. head of the group. "Arl Eamon wants any of Loghain's spies to see how united we are."

"Warden?" Sir Perth called, stepping forward. "We had begun to fear the worst."

Will chuckled. "I'm not that easy to get rid of," he said. "There was just some trouble in Orzammar; we got it sorted out. How are things here?"

The knight gave Will a long look before nodding. "Well enough," he said. "Arl Eamon is eager to call for the Landsmeet to begin, as are the nobles. The longer we delay, the more time Loghain has to solidify his power. Come, this way,"

While most of the group scattered to rest themselves among the other groups of soldiers and retainers around the castle, Will, Fergus, Zelda, and Alistair followed Sir Perth up the stairs towards Arl Eamon's office. Bann Teagan was already there, and the two brothers seemed to be in the middle of a discussion when Sir Perth announced Will.

"Warden!" Bann Teagan said. "And Fergus! I'm glad to see you two didn't miss each other on the road."

Arl Eamon nodded. "Yes, the more united a front we can present to Loghain, the greater our chances will be. Has Orzammar agreed to honor its word?"

"Yes," Will said. "It took some arm twisting, but we did manage. When the Blight moves, the dwarves will be ready to fight them." He grimaced. "And not a moment too soon: the main horde is on its way."

The room seemed to chill despite the roaring fire. "You've seen it?" Teagan asked.

"Yes," Will said. "It won't have reached Ostagar yet, so we still have time, but they are coming, and the Archdemon is with them."

"Then it is as you say, there is no time to waste," Arl Eamon said. "Still, you must be tired. It would take us the rest of the day's light simply to prepare to leave, so we shall rest until tomorrow. Then, we will march on Denerim with all the nobles who have joined us. It's time to restore-"

"Are you sure that's wise?" Will asked. "If we're all together, then it would be easy for Loghain to silence us. He has an army, after all."

"He would be a fool to try," Fergus said. "Once the Landsmeet is called, by tradition all internal military conflicts are to be set aside: if he were to break that truce even his most fervent allies would be forced to abandon him." He must have seen the look on Will's face, as he continued. "I know that he is a king-killer and oath breaker, but we have no direct proof of those crimes: it's our word against his. A major battle on the path to Denerim? There is no way he could hide such a thing."

Will slowly nodded: he had to admit that Arl Eamon and Fergus were much more knowledgeable about such things. "Very well," he said. "We will be ready to ride with you tomorrow."

Arl Eamon nodded. "Now, we must plan," he said. "You have shown yourself to be adept in the field of battle, but the Landsmeet is a completely different challenge."

Will couldn't help but bristle. "We handled the dwarves well enough," he said.

"I do not doubt you, Warden," Arl Eamon said. "However, you had the advantage that the dwarves have a much higher respect for your Order than exists in Ferelden, which means any minor errors would have been overlooked." He raised a hand. "Please, do not take these words as insult, but understand that we will only have one chance at this. The Landsmeet is one of Ferelden's most important traditions; if the lords decide that Loghain is indeed the best chance Ferelden has, there will be no recourse. We must ensure that we show the Banns that only by uniting behind Meric's blood can the Blight be defeated."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "Am I the only one here who doesn't want me to be king?" he muttered.

Arl Eamon sighed. "Alistair, we discussed this. While I admit that this is less than ideal; you are Ferelden's only hope of a meaningful transition of power, and without that, the armies you and Warden Surana have gathered will have no support, and thus no chance of victory."

"Yeah," Alistair sighed. "Yeah, I know."

There was a moment of silence before Arl Eamon continued. "I have already sent other lords to begin laying the groundwork: as we travel more will flock to our side. Once we arrive, it will be several days before the Landsmeet itself begins, and in that time I'm afraid you'll have to be a very visible sign of our cause. While not as strong in Orzammar, there are still those in Ferelden who respect the history of the Grey Wardens." He turned to Alistair. "You, however, will need to remain in my home, no matter what. While Loghain would not be foolish enough to openly try to arrest us, he will not be above attempted assassinations. We must all be on our guard."

Will nodded. "How should we go about convincing the nobility?" he asked.

"I know what your instinct is, Warden, but it would be best if Ostagar was mentioned as little as possible. On that note, it is your word against Loghain's: survivors are few and far between, and many will see what he did as necessary." A strangled hiss from Alistair caused the Arl to sigh. "We know the truth, Alistair, but the sad fact is that not enough will see it that way to make engaging Loghain on that field worth it. No, we must challenge his decisions since then, bring to light the other crimes he has committed, and we must in some way tie those to the Queen. That will allow us to put Alistair forward as a better candidate."

"And what of Howe?" Fergus said, his voice grim. "How will we bring him to justice?"

"That is one of the crimes we will use to defeat Loghain," Arl Eamon said. "Howe is not a popular man, and your survival will throw his claim to Highever into question. You will have your justice, Fergus." He looked at Zelda. "Sir Zelda, if I might make a suggestion, you should allow your brother to carry your family's weapons. It will be a potent symbol that he is the true Teyrn of Highever." Zelda nodded with only a hint of unhappiness. "I believe that is the most pertinent points," Arl Eamon continued. "We shall go into more detail on the road, but for now, we all need our rest for what is to come."

"Sir Zelda."

Zelda turned to face the man behind her. "Commander Greagoir," she said, crossing her wrists in a quick bow. "It's good to see you again, sir,"

The older Templar nodded, the ghost of a smile crossing his face despite the tiredness and tension she could still see in his stance. "And you as well," he said. "There were times when I feared the worst; I am glad that I was wrong. Tell me, how fares Senior Enchanter Wynne?"

Zelda paused for a moment: she still hadn't worked up the courage to ask Wynne about what exactly the story behind the spirit that now inhabited her body was; it had just never seemed the right time. "She is well enough," she said, "though I think her age is starting to catch up with her. Even a Spirit Healer can only delay the inevitable journey to the Maker's side for so long."

The Knight Commander nodded. "That is true," he rumbled. "It is good to hear that she still lives. And Surana? Is he well?"

Wasn't that an even thornier question? 'Oh, he's doing fine after he murdered a Templar in cold blood and tried to run off on us. Just dandy.' She couldn't say that, though: Greagoir would be forced to act, and Ferelden couldn't afford any more division than it already had. "The journey has worn on him," she said. "But I think… I think this wear is smoothing some of his rough edges, making a better mage of him. A better man."

From the look Greagoir gave her, Zelda could tell he knew she wasn't telling him the whole story, but also seemed to decide that digging for it would not be for the best. Or perhaps he was simply saving his energy for the last piece of this confrontation. "Good, good," he said. "However, some of the decisions I hear he's made… concern me. I spoke to Arl Eamon when I arrived. He mentioned that Jowan had been set to be returned to the Tower to face justice, only to be snatched away at the last minute by Surana. He was wondering if there was any way I could change that outcome."

Zelda's back tensed. "By law, the Right of Conscription is absolute," she said. "In a time of Blight, any Warden can call any man or woman to service, no matter their background. William invoked it, which meant that Jowan was beyond our power."

"As with many mortal laws, such things are limited by the powers that invoke them," Greagoir said, his voice flattening. "Arl Eamon had already made his opinion clear and simply needed a supporting voice to override-"

"I think you underestimate William's resolve," Zelda said, shocking herself as she interrupted her commander! However, she'd chosen to make her stand, and she had to stick by that. "He would not have simply bowed to Arl Eamon's will: he was determined to have his way." Commander Greagoir raised an eyebrow, but gestured for her to continue. "Whether we think he was right or wrong, he was convinced, and right now Ferelden needs him. Without him, the Dalish and Orzammar may not honor their promise to send aid: they have little love for humans. Only the Grey Wardens command such respect."

The pair stared at each other for a long minute before Commander Greagoir sighed. "Sir Zelda, I do hope you realize the position you've put me in. One the one hand, I let a blood mage go, one who has directly assaulted not only myself, but also the First Enchanter, and who then went on to cause untold devastation here in Redcliffe. To do this would be a betrayal of everything the Templar Order stands for. On the other, I retroactively override you, not only sowing dissent and ill will in the face of a Blight but also raising the wrath of a Grey Warden who already holds a very low opinion of the Templar Order and myself personally while simultaneously being extremely popular with those we shall need to work with to safeguard the people. Neither of these options appeal to me."

Zelda grimaced. "Commander…" she said. "I… I know that I have made choices that are not those that other Templar would have made, and I am sorry that I have caused you trouble, but I do believe they were the choices that will give Ferelden the best chance of surviving the coming Blight. I have fought the Darkspawn, seen what they are capable of... they are a plague, and they are coming for us all. Jowan is a threat, that is undeniable, but right now, he is a threat that has proven his ability to kill Darkspawn. Until this Blight is ended… perhaps that is enough."

Slowly, Commander Greagoir shook his head. "You were always a willful one, Sir Zelda," he said. "Brilliant, devoted, but willful. Perhaps that's why you survived, while all the others caught behind the Door fell. I thought it a sign from the Maker, that you were meant for greater things." His eyes softened. "You seem to understand the Warden way of thinking. There have been Templar who have joined the Wardens; it is one of the few honorable ways to rescind one's oath to the Maker."

Zelda's blood went cold. "Are you… going to expel me?" she whispered. She'd given so much to become a Templar, made so many sacrifices, she'd lost the chance to say goodbye to her family, she couldn't-

The Commander waved an armored hand. "No, Sir Zelda, no," he said. "You are correct that you were forced to make hard choices and chose to do what you thought would help the most people, and I respect that even if I do not agree with you. I was simply giving you the option: if you were to go through with it I would sign off on it."

A wry chuckle came from behind Zelda. "You obviously don't know my sister very well, Sir Templar," Fergus stepped up to stand next to her. "You're right that she's willful: she never quits anything once she's set her mind to it. If she leaves your Order, it's going to be when she's dragged out the door, kicking and screaming." Zelda suppressed the urge to punch her brother.

Commander Greagoir snorted, looking completely unsurprised. "Lord Cousland," he rumbled. "I suppose that even years of separation will never break the bond of siblings."

Zelda blinked: she'd never told anyone her heritage. "You knew?" she asked.

The older Templar nodded. "Of course I did. I make it my business to know the background of all those who serve under me, to make sure none of them can be compromised," he said. "It wasn't difficult: I knew you volunteered in Highever. A few quiet questions discovered that the young daughter of the Teyrn, who fit your description exactly and shared your name, had gone missing mere days before you volunteered."

Brother and sister blinked at Commander Greagoir. "Why didn't you say anything?" Zelda finally asked.

"You'd made the choice to join us," Commander Greagoir said. "You are far from the first noble child to become a Templar, and if you didn't want to talk about it, it wasn't my place to compel you." He nodded to Fergus. "For the same reason, I did not contact your parents. I regret that now, knowing the treachery that befell them, but I did not want to force one of my Knights to choose between her oaths or her family against her will."

The three stood in silence for a while before Fergus sighed. "Sir Templar… thank you, for looking after my sister when I couldn't," he said. "If she'd stayed, she'd be dead too. As it is, we're both alive, and we can avenge our family's murder."

Commander Greagoir smirked. "Vengeance may not be the Templar way, but in this case, I'll make an exception."

Loghain nearly gagged on the swill that passed for wine these days, but he forced it down; the news he had just read from the letter on his desk more than warranted alcohol, no matter how vile.

The Darkspawn were growing bolder: raiding parties and even small shards of the army spreading further and further north. Several of the southern bannorns had fallen entirely, while others were hard pressed. He wanted to send aid to them, truly he did, but too many other nobles were still refusing to bow to his needs, and so his armies were needed to quell the ongoing rebellion.

However, over the last month, the rebels had started pulling back, seeming to consolidate their forces. He had been able to prosecute a few engagements, but for the most part they seemed to be waiting for something, something to do with the force the sadly-revived Arl Eamon seemed to be preparing. Howe had suggested that an expedition be sent to smash Redcliffe directly, but Loghain had overruled him: not only would it take too many men to fight their way through half of the rebellion's lands to siege the castle, but it would almost certainly drive some of his supporters out of his camp to attack a noble who had not openly declared against him. Politics were frustrating like that.

Still, he would have to do something. Perhaps Cathurian would be able to take a small force to help evacuate some of the outlying hamlets; she had less baggage attached to her name and face than Loghain himself…

Before he could ponder further, the sound of voices came from outside, and a moment later both Howe and Anora entered Loghain's office, the tension between them palpable. The regent bit back a sigh: the last thing he needed was his daughter and his most useful ally at each other's throats at this critical moment.

"What is it," he said, grimacing as he took another drink.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, sire," Howe said carefully. "We have just received news that Arl Eamon has left Redcliffe with his full retinue, backed by all of his banns. He also has the Grey Wardens with him." Howe took a breath, clearly forcing back his anger in order to finish his report. "He is calling for a Landsmeet."

Loghain slumped wearily in his chair. A Landsmeet. That's the last thing he needed, more yapping from nobles who didn't understand the sorts of sacrifices and hard choices it took to keep Ferelden free. He'd hoped this year's one would be postponed due to the fighting and the Darkspawn incursion, but it seemed that Arl Eamon was pushing the matter. Unfortunately, this was his right, and so Loghain could not stop him.

Although… perhaps this would be good. The Grey Wardens had lasted as long as they had by sticking to the shadows, infiltrating important organizations and manipulating events to make themselves seem more appealing, almost certainly on the instructions of whatever Bard was advising them on the underhanded schemes the Orlesians favored. Loghain, meanwhile, had become a convenient scapegoat for all those who wished to increase their own power or find someone to blame for their problems. Now, with a Landsmeet, he would be able to show the nobility just how dangerous the Wardens were… and then, when it was over, they would not be able to escape.

"Very well," he said. "Send orders to our troops to begin rallying near Denerim, but not to engage the rebels further. Let them come."

Howe blinked. "Sire, I know tradition calls for certain things," he said carefully. "However, there is an opportunity-"

"No," Anora snapped. "Father, do not listen to him. To break the truce of the Landsmeet would be to destroy your support among the nobility. Arl Eamon is no fool: he would not show the Wardens so openly if that were not the case." Howe glared at her, but Loghain raised a hand.

"She is right, Howe, and you know it," he said. "Besides, the Wardens have shown themselves to be too resistant to direct attack, at least on the scale we can bring to bear. How many assassins have you advised me to send?" He shook his head. "No, we will allow them to come, and then we will defeat them here, and then we will end their threat once and for all, and then Ferelden will finally be safe."

Howe's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Sire, my son-"

Loghain slammed his cup down on the desk in front of him, glaring at the nobleman, his already fraying temper snapping. "Do not think yourself indispensable, Howe," he growled. "You have been an asset to this war, but if you let your blind desire for revenge get in the way of continuing to be an asset, I will destroy you, like I have destroyed all who put Ferelden in danger."

The two men stared at each other for a several tense seconds before Howe finally bowed. "Very well, sire," he said before turning and stalking out of the room.

Loghain leaned back in his chair with a sigh: more and more, he was wishing he had someone else to rely on rather than Howe. Unfortunately, the man was in control of most of northern Ferelden, and with rumors that a pretender to the Cousland line was running around, he needed to be firm in his support for the man. At least in public. Glancing over at Anora, he had expected some sign of satisfaction that the man she'd never liked had been taken down a peg.

He was surprised, however, to see a frown on her face. Not a thoughtful frown, either, but a frown that told him she was in some form of distress. "Anora?" he asked.

"Father," she said slowly. "You said you would sacrifice anyone who put Ferelden in danger…" she took a breath before continuing. "Would that… have included Cailan?"

Loghain felt he heart drop: for all that she had occasionally complained about Cailan's gung-ho nature, he knew that Anora had been at least somewhat fond of the boy. It had been one of the reasons he had hoped that he could convince the late king to abandon the path to ruin. However, Cailan had made his choices…

"Cailan's death was his own doing," he said tiredly.

Anora stared at him for a long moment before turning and walking out the door without a word, leaving Loghain alone with his brooding.

For the third time in what felt like as many months, Will found himself preparing to enter the city of his birth, the one he had honestly thought he would never see again after being torn from it as a child. Ironically, each of those entrances had been very different. Walking alongside Duncan, it had simply been a matter of a warrior and his follower walking through the gate on business. With Leliana, they had been forced to use stealth: with him pretending to be her servant so as to not attract Loghain's attention.

Now, riding (?!) alongside Arl Eamon, it seemed that the nobleman wanted to make absolutely sure that the entire city knew they were coming.

The column they marched in stretched on an on, though that was in part due to the number of nobles that had joined them as they paraded along the road to Denerim. Banners of every color and description flew, sometimes seeming to compete with each other for the best breezes. A small army of warriors, some mounted on massive horses barded and decorated to such a degree that Will was surprised the poor beasts weren't collapsing under the weight, marched with them, though whether they were to prevent trouble or simply to make a statement Will wasn't sure. Many of them would make camp outside the city: not only would there not be enough room for them all in Denerim itself they didn't want to look like an invading army, but since Will had spotted the banners of Loghain's army on a nearby hill, he couldn't bring himself to worry about that.

The final entrance to the city was even more choreographed. At the head of the line was Alistair, looking extremely uncomfortable. Gone was his well-worn, functional Templar armor; in its place he had been clad in a gilded suit similar to the one Cailan had worn at Ostagar. His hair had also been styled as much as its length would allow, causing him to strike a regal figure save for the nerves that Will could see in how stiffly he sat on his horse.

Slightly behind him were Arl Eamon and Fergus, accompanied by men carrying banners bearing the coats of arms of Redcliffe and Highever. Behind them was Will, escorted by a man flying the Grey Warden crest, with most of the party close behind him. Will couldn't help but smile faintly as he heard Morrigan muttering, though he couldn't help but agree with her either.

His smile faded as he wished Leliana could be near him: her presence would be a great comfort in this madness, but Arl Eamon had insisted on tucking her into some distant corner of the parade. "Loghain will be looking to tie us to Orlais in any way he can," the old noble had said. "We know the truth, but sadly she could be used to strength that tie. Until the Landsmeet is complete, she will need to stay out of the public eye." Arl Eamon hadn't even wanted her to come to Denerim at all, but Will had put his foot down: Leliana had done as much to get them here as anyone, she deserved to be there along with the rest.

Drawing his mind back to the present, Will watched as the crowd parted before the procession, a mix of awe, confusion, and fear on their collective faces. What worried him, however, were those that simply watched silently. How many of them were Loghain's men, just waiting for an opportunity? His eyes then started scanning the rooftops: Arl Eamon had promised that Alistair's armor was of the highest quality, but a good crossbow bolt could still get through, especially since the Arl had insisted that Alistair go without a helmet.

However, his fears seemed unwarranted and there was no trouble even as various nobles split off towards their own homes in the city. Arl Eamon led the way across the Drakon River towards the noble district where his own estate was. Fergus would also be staying there, since the Highever estate was closed to him, claimed by Howe. Will remembered Zelda's colorful language when she'd heard of that particular snare.

Finally, everyone was safely behind the wall of the Redcliffe estate, and Will allowed himself to relax. "How did it go?" he asked Arl Eamon, the pair standing in the entrance hall along with Alistair, Zelda and Fergus. "Can you tell how things stand?"

"Better than I feared, less than I hoped," the Arl said. "It was possible that Loghain's heavy hand would have driven the people to rally at our passing, or he could have swayed enough to form a small riot. Neither of these came to pass, so we can assume that the people are, for the moment, simply waiting to see which way the winds of the Landsmeet blow. It will be up to us to show them that restoring the Therin bloodline is for the best for Ferelden."

Will had a flashback to listening to Harrowmont and Bhelen's men in in Orzammar; less than an hour into this mess and he was already tired of it. Next to him, Alistair let out a groan. Sighing, Will patted him on the shoulder: as much as neither of them liked this, the stakes were too high to bow out. "So what do we do now?"

Arl Eamon must have seen something on Will's face as he gave a small smile. "For the moment, we simply rest. It is late in the day, and not all of the nobility had arrived yet. Tomorrow shall be the day when we begin swaying hearts and minds. Until then-"

Before he could continue, a servant hurried over. "My lord," he said, bowing. "The Regent has arrived and… requests, to speak with you." Somehow, Will suspected that Loghain had been far more forceful than that, but Arl Eamon nodded.

"As direct as ever, I see," he murmured. "Invite him in, please." The servant bowed again before hurrying back towards the entrance. "I know you have history with Loghain," the nobleman said, his eyes sweeping everyone present. "However, it would be best if you left me to do the talking: even without witnesses, words have power here."

Alistair nodded happily, followed by a more reluctant Zelda and Fergus. Will said nothing, but stepped back enough that Arl Eamon was clearly at the forefront just as the massive double doors opened, admitting two men and a woman.

In the center, of course, was Loghain. He looked much as Will remembered from Ostagar, though he looked almost as tired as Will felt. Deep shadows hung under his eyes, and his skin was even more pale. However, his gaze was still sharp as he studied them, pausing briefly on both Alistair and Will himself. The young Warden forced himself to meet Loghain's gaze steadily, causing a slight curl in the human's lips as he approached.

Will's attention, however, was distracted by a hiss from his left. Turning his head as little as he could, he glanced at Zelda and Fergus, who were both glaring with dagger-focus at the man on Loghain's left. It took him only a moment to put the pieces together: that had to be Howe, Loghain's chief enforcer and the man who had betrayed and murdered their family. Will knew from experience the rage and frustration that was boiling through their veins.

The woman was not someone Will knew, but she was clearly some sort of knight or bodyguard. Carrying a massive greatsword that hummed slightly with magical energy, she marched with the precision of a lifelong soldier, her gaze sharp and hard, clearly ready for a fight if anyone were willing to start one.

"Loghain," Arl Eamon said smoothly as the trio reached them. "It is an honor that the regent would find time to greet me personally."

Loghain's face split with a sarcastic smile. "How could I not welcome the man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" he said.

"You mean the Blight you denied existing?" Will couldn't help but say even as Arl Eamon started to open his mouth. The older noble shot Will a warning look, but the armed woman at Loghain's side spoke first.

"Don't interrupt, churl, your betters are talking," she snapped.

Loghain waved a hand. "Enough, Sir Cauthrian," he said before turning back to Will. "I suppose it was inevitable that we would meet here, Warden. My condolences on your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden."

Before Will (or Alistair, if the growling from his direction was any indication,) Arl Eamon reclaimed the conversation. "The Blight is why we are all here," he said firmly. "With Cailan dead, Ferelden must follow the line of succession, so that it has a king to lead it against the Darkspawn."

Loghain's eyes flashed as he glared at Arl Eamon. "Ferelden has a strong ruler," he growled. "It's queen! And I lead her armies!"

Again, Will's tongue moved almost without his consent, finally being able to strike at the man who had caused so much damage, had nearly destroyed his home (for all its flaws) was cathartic beyond imagining. "I'd have more faith in a general who hadn't turned tail and run in the face of the Darkspawn despite his own plan being in motion," he said. "Or maybe that was your plan."

Arl Eamon sighed, but Loghain didn't seem to notice, his rage refocusing on Will. "You should curb your tongue!" he snarled, stepping forward to loom over Will. "This is my city, and no safe place to speak treason! For anyone!"

Will didn't allow himself to be intimidated: Flemeth had caused more fear with a slight smile than this despot ever could. "Going to send more assassins? I think we're up to five attempts on my life now?" he said with a slight smirk.

"I don't think the guy at Orzammar counts," Alistair said. "He was just in the area."

Loghain growled. "You will pay for all the good Ferelden men and women you have killed, Warden," he said. "I guarantee it!"

"Enough!" Arl Eamon said. "This is a Landsmeet: we are all under the banner of truce. What is treason and what is loyalty will be decided in council, not by crossed blades or shouted words!"

Will and Loghain glared at each other for a few seconds longer before Loghain stepped back, visibly forcing his temper back under control. "I had worried that your illness had left you feeble, Eamon," he said.

"Poison, you mean," Will said.

Loghain ignored him. "Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."

Arl Eamon raised an eyebrow. "I see that you have made an interesting choice of advisor," he said, jerking his chin towards Howe. "A man who murdered his lord after being invited into his home and falsely claimed his lands? Surely that is not the sort of man to be making decisions for our kingdom?"

Howe smirked. "I see that you are behind the times, Eamon," he said silkily. "I had indisputable proof that the late Teyrn was in league with the Orlesians, and it is the right of the queen to redistribute land and titles-"

"You liar!" Zelda cried, her hands clenching at his sides. "Father would never betray Ferelden!"

For an instant, Howe looked surprised, but then his smirk returned. "Ah, the little lost lady," he said. "You've grown up."

"That she has," Fergus said, his hand gripping Zelda's shoulder firmly. "Hide behind your master and your false words all you want, Howe, the Maker's truth will shine upon you, and you will be judged for your crimes. Your time will end soon enough." Howe's smirk simply widened.

Loghain, meanwhile, sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon," he said, almost sounding honest. "Our people are frightened, our king is dead, our land is under siege. We cannot afford to fight among ourselves: we must unite as people of Ferelden if we are to endure this crisis. What would Rowan say if she could see the division you are fomenting now for a chance at the throne!"

"You are the one who has divided us, Loghain," Will said. "The Grey Wardens are the only chance Ferelden has against the Blight, not even the Tevinter Imperium at the height of its power could stop the darkspawn without us!"

"I was not talking to you!"

"But he is right, Loghain," Arl Eamon said, sounding equally tired. "And even if he was not… you put a viper into my home, causing many of my people to die while I lay on my deathbed, unable to guide them. I cannot forgive what you have done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but I cannot." He gestured for Alistair to step forward. "Alistair is Cailan's brother. Maric's son. He is of the Therin bloodline, and by the grace of Andraste, he will be the one to lead us to victory against the Blight."

"Is that all?" Alistair muttered, so quiet that Will was pretty sure nobody else heard him. "No pressure." Will telekinetically squeezed his shoulder, and his brother-Warden smiled faintly.

Loghain once again stepped forward, using his impressive size and ornate armor to fill Arl Eamon's personal space. "The Emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down," he said. "Expect no more mercy than I showed him! There is nothing I would not do for my homeland!" Then, without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and walked away. Sir Cauthrian followed immediately, while Howe paused only to throw one last arrogant look at Zelda and Fergus before turning to follow.

As the last echoes of the closing door faded, Arl Eamon turned to face the others. "Well, that was bracing," he said. "I wish you had left me to speak, however I suppose you have the right: Loghain has also done you much damage." He sighed. "I had hoped that, could I speak to him, I would be able to turn him from his course, but it seems he has gone mad. And to think I thought it more likely that pigs would fly than Loghain Mac Tir would turn against his King."

Will shrugged. "People change," he said. "So what do we do now?"

"As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, we rest. I have already dispatched agents to begin testing the waters as well as try to find the roots of Loghain's many schemes. Until we know where to begin, we wait. I know it is not glamorous, but it is important."

Will sighed and nodded. It would be good to talk to Leliana again, it had been too long. "By your leave?" he said. Arl Eamon nodded, and finally Will was able to turn and leave. Alistair quickly followed after him, letting out a sigh of his own.

"Well isn't this fun," he said. "And to think that if I'm lucky enough to be king, I'll get to do this all the time. How thrilling."

Will laughed gently as he reached out to pat Alistair's shoulder. "Look on the bright side, you'll get all the cheese you could ever want." When Alistair didn't respond to the quip, Will softened his tone. "I know it's hard, but for what it's worth I think you'll be a good king. The skills, you can learn, but you have something Loghain lacks: a desire to help others and a willingness to listen. Nobody knows everything on their own."

After a moment, Alistair finally smiled. "Thank you, Will," he said. "Besides, this is how I'll get justice for Duncan and the others: as well as for Zelda's family, and all the others who've been hurt." He grabbed Will's hand. "We'll do this together, you and me."

"You and me, Alistair," Will said.

A melodious laugh filled the corridor. "Should I be worried you're trying to steal my love, Alistair?" Leliana giggled.

Alistair flushed. "No, no," he said, waving a hand. "Don't get me wrong, he's great, but I have a few preferences that he can't fulfill." Will rolled his eyes as Leliana kept laughing, wrapping her arms around Will.

"That's wonderful. More for me, then," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "I heard an argument in the hall, did one of Loghain's men try to cause trouble?"

"The big man himself, actually," Will said. "Along with a few of his flunkies. Zelda'll be in a sour mood: Howe was there."

Leliana frowned. "It must have been awful, to see the man who killed your family and not be able to do anything about it," she said.

"Yeah," Alistair said. "But we'll get them. We'll get them all."

…

Will was on edge that night; even though he was near the center of a small fortress with veteran guards constantly on watch, he couldn't shake the feeling that by giving up the advantage of stealth, it was only a matter of time before Loghain made some underhanded move. Leliana, bless her, was patient, gently soothing him in the room they shared. "He won't try anything," she whispered, gently rubbing his back as he lay awake. "He's not stupid; nor is Arl Eamon. They both know that it's not worth the risk." Finally, she was able to sooth Will to sleep.

The calm even spread into the next day. The food was certainly better than what was available on the road, and it was nice to have an actual chair rather than whatever stump or rock looked the most comfortable. Will was still worried, but things seemed to be looking up.

This thought, of course, was the cue for everything to go to the Abyss.

Will's head snapped up as he heard a distant cry, coming from the gate area. "Warden?" Arl Eamon asked in confusion while everyone else immediately tensed.

"Something's happening at the gate," Will said, rising and hurrying towards the door, thanking the fact that he had not relaxed enough to dispense with his armor and Spellweaver even in a secure area. "I'll go check it out, everyone else get ready."

"Really, Warden, that's not necessary," Arl Eamon, trying to keep up as everyone else scattered to either grab anything they needed or follow Will if they were ready. "There are many disturbances in the city that will not require your attention, you need to be ready to focus-" Will tuned him out as he pushed through the door: the shouting was growing louder, and there was an undercurrent of other voices as well. Pushing through the front door, Will took a moment to study the situation.

The first thing that drew his attention was the knot of Arl Eamon's guards standing in the gate; their leader face-to-face with an armored knight while the others hung back, some with their spears uncomfortably lowered. Behind them, in the streets of Denerim, a crowd was beginning to gather, chatting animatedly to each other, thought thankfully Will didn't get the feeling that this was any kind of a building riot. Instead, the people seemed amused. He glanced at Leliana, who was standing next to him, but she only shrugged.

"Wait here," he said softly as he made his way down the steps, around the fancy fountain that dominated the courtyard, and made his way over to the guards.

The knight noticed him as he reached the rearmost line of guards, and a moment later he physically pushed the guard to the side and stormed forward. The spears on the remaining guards were immediately set in place, but Will waved them down: he could handle this himself. "Hail," he said.

The knight didn't immediately speak as he reached Will, glaring at the Warden silently. However, just as Will was about to ask what he wanted, the knight yanked one of his gauntlets off of his hand and threw it at Will's feet. The crowd drew in a collective breath, and several of the guards cursed.

The Warden blinked. "What the-"

"Craven cur!" the knight snarled. "Honorless dog! Are you so great a coward that you will deny me my satisfaction!"

Will glanced around at the crowd that was gathering, both ordinary citizens outside the gates and Arl Eamon's staff inside. They all seemed far too excited for the Warden's comfort. "I have no idea what you want," he said. "What-"

"I am Sir Landry!" the knight called, his eyes blazing. "You killed my friend! And good King Cailan! I demand satisfaction!"

Will sighed, shaking his head. "Loghain's charges against the Wardens are false," he said. "All will be revealed at the Landsmeet-"

"No! I have waited too long to avenge all the good men and women who are dead because of your treason! I will not hear your slander of the noble Teyrn!" He drew his mace and shield. "Now, take up the gauntlet so that I may do what I wish I had been able to do the very day my sovereign lord died because of your crimes! Draw your blade, Warden, and die like a man!"

"Control yourself!" Arl Eamon's voice boomed as he pushed his own way through his men. "The Warden is under my protection!"

"That is your right, my lord," the knight ground out. "However, I also have rights: the right to challenge this… man… to a duel before the Maker and Andraste." He sneered at Will. "He can, of course, hide behind the Arl's protection, should he wish to disgrace himself before all Ferelden."

Will's eyes narrowed: as much as he didn't want to fight this strange man, it was true that it would look bad, and there were more than enough witnesses. Arl Eamon seemed to agree if his sigh meant anything. "Very well," he said, stepping back behind his guards. "Warden, if you are willing, I will not stop you."

Will nodded. "Very well," he said, drawing Spellweaver. "I'll try not to hurt you too badly."

Sir Landry growled. "Arrogant filth!" he hissed, then swung.

Will quickly realized he was a decent warrior, but his weapon was ill-suited for this fight. It was designed to cause harm through heavier defenses than the Arcane Warrior armor Will wore, but it was slow, his training causing him to put more weight behind it than was strictly needed. Will easily wove out of the way of the first strike, Spellweaver lashing out. Sir Landry's shield deflected the blow, but Will's foot lashed out, unbalancing the knight enough that a telekinetic shove toppled him. "Do you yield?" Will asked mildly over the roaring crowd, stepping back.

Sir Landry growled as he clambered to his feet. "So, not only are you honorless, but you use foul sorcery! No wonder you fell to such treachery!"

Will's eyes narrowed. "Be careful with your words, knight," he hissed. "My magic is a part of me, as much as your arm is a part of you. I am still willing to overlook your attack if you stand down."

Sir Landry didn't answer with words, simply charging forward. His swings were smoother now, he must have realized that hurting Will would not be as hard as his usual foes. However, the Warden was a veteran of countless battles more desperate than this, and as he dodged again Spellweaver flashed up, pushing the mace further on. Sir Landry tried to use his shield to knock Will down, but Will slipped past it and, after wrapping a magical shield around his face, slammed it into Sir Landry's since neither of them had put helmets on. With a cry, Sir Landry once again fell back, but this time he kept the presence of mind to drag Will with him.

"For the king!" the knight hissed, trying to bring his shield into the side of Will's head.

"For my king," Will shot back, blocking the strike with one arm (a jolt of pain shot through him, but he ignored it) drawing a fist back and punching Sir Landry once, twice, three times, before pushing himself up. The knight was stunned, groaning as he clutched his bloodied face. Before he could recover, Will slashed with Spellweaver, knocking his mace from his hand and sending it skittering towards the crowd. "Do. You. Yield?"

Sir Landry tried to force himself to his feet, but Will had had enough. His boot came down on Sir Landry's chest, forcing him back onto the ground as Spellweaver's crackling blade hovered between his eyes. "No! Ferelden has seen enough people die for nothing! The Blight is coming, everyone accepts that now, and we need every warrior we can get! If you want to honor King Cailan's memory, you'll admit defeat, pick yourself up, go see a healer, and get ready to protect his kingdom from the Darkspawn! If you're too stubborn to do that, then so help me you can explain to him in the next life why you forsook your duty!"

Silence hung over the courtyard as even the chattering crowd quieted, waiting for Sir Landry's response. Finally, however, he sighed. "Very well, Warden. For His Majesty, I will yield."

"Good," Will said, stepping off of him and offering a hand. The knight simply glowered at him as he stood up himself, pulling a cloth from somewhere to stem the bleeding of his broken nose. "Go."

Sir Landry huffed, but he did turn and walk away, pausing only to scoop his mace up from where it had fallen. Meanwhile, the crowd was chattering excitedly, some trading coins as they started to disperse.

"That was very well played, Warden," Arl Eamon said. "The rumor mill will turn this into an even more grand victory within the hour. Invoking Cailan's name was an excellent touch."

Will sighed, running a wave of healing magic down his arm. "And how long before the next proud madman comes beating at the gate?"

"Hopefully, no others will. However, it would be best if you avoided any more opportunities for challenges: while I have confidence in your ability to prove victories, best not to tempt fate."

"Besides," Leliana called casually from across the courtyard. "I think this was just a distraction."

"What do you mean?" Will asked, turning to the redhead, only to blink.

It seemed that, sometime during the duel, somebody had slipped past the distracted guards and had been making their way to the mansion, only for Leliana to intercept her and pull her off to the side, out of sight from the street. It was an elven woman, wearing a fancy red dress and enough makeup for an acting troupe.

"No…" Arl Eamon said, hurrying over surprisingly fast. Blinking, Will followed him

"My lord!" the elf said as they arrived, her Orlesian accent so thick that Will almost couldn't understand her. "It is so good to see you! Please, I need your help! The queen, she is in danger!"

Will blinked once. Then twice. Then, finally…

"Son of a-"

AN: Once again, I am so sorry that this took so long. I kind of fell away from fantasy for a while, becoming more interested in sci-fi, and have only recently come back to Dragon Age thanks to some friends inviting me to join their D&D group.