Chapter 100: Gone awry

Both Solona and I were on our feet in seconds, charging out the door to catch the servant, but he was gone. Alistair's door ripped open just as I hit the hallway, and wordlessly he held out his hand, which I clutched briefly. Solona didn't even slow as she silently raced down the hallway ahead of me. Alistair and I chased her, careening into the main hall a moment later.

There was a crowd of people gathered in the hall, and we had to practically climb over our companions to reach the front. One quick look confirmed that Anora was alone; there was no sign of my brother or any of the others he took with him. Eamon wasn't there, though Teagan stood glaring at the woman with his arms crossed on his chest. Theron, in his full helm, stood to one side. Duncan was nowhere to be seen; we had decided we'd wait and see if Anora knew about him before letting her see him.

Anora wore a poor-fitting guard uniform with what I assumed was the Arl of Denerim's coat of arms – green and white with a many-pointed star – on the front. She had a bit of hat hair, her braids rumpled with individual hairs sticking out, and she had apparently dropped her helm on the floor when no one offered to take it from her. Despite that, she looked somehow haughty and regal, her shoulders back, drawn up to her full height, her nose ever so slightly in the air as though she smelled something bad.

I didn't hear what was being said as I charged up; when Alistair and I reached her, everyone else seemed to stop and hold their breath. I thought Teagan might take charge, but he looked livid, and I doubted he'd be able to speak without breathing fire. No one else seemed to know exactly what to say either, and finally Alistair bowed slightly, the way Duncan often did, and cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty," his voice was remarkably calm, and I eyed him in surprise, "where is the Warden? Where are those who rescued you?"

Theron shifted as Anora's cheeks coloured slightly, whether in anger or embarrassment I couldn't tell.

"Still at Howe's estate, I imagine. But I doubt this is the appropriate place for this discussion, wouldn't you say?"

Alistair's jaw clenched, but he stayed calm. "Of course, your Majesty. Theron, Sierra, with me. Bann Teagan, could you get Arl Eamon and meet us in his study?" Teagan nodded, and slipped away. "This way, if you please," Alistair continued, and it was my turn to clench my teeth as he offered her his arm. "I'd appreciate you telling us what has happened before you go get cleaned up, if you don't mind, your Majesty."

She murmured something that must have been agreement, and Theron and I, in full armour, followed them to Eamon's study.

We'd decided that Alistair should try to appear confident and in-control around Anora, to see how she would respond to a competent-seeming rival for the throne. Aedan would step back and allow it to seem that Alistair was the one calling all the shots. I knew that, knew he had to act the statesman and host, but I wanted to slap those stupid buns right off her head when she placed her hand on Alistair's offered arm, never mind wanting to torture her until she told me what happened to my brother.

In the study, Alistair ushered Anora to a chair, pulled out a second for me, and then sat behind the big desk, trying not to blush while she studied him. Theron went to stand behind Alistair, helmet still securely in place.

"Introductions, then, while we wait for the Arl. I am-"

"Alistair Theirin, yes I can see that. My father mentioned you were a Grey Warden at Ostagar, and certainly the resemblance to my late husband makes it ... obvious that you are Maric's son."

"Yes. And this is Lady Sierra Cousland."

Anora raised her eyebrows daintily. "Cousland? Are you a cousin, then, perhaps?"

We'd worked out a cover story on our way to Denerim. "No, your Majesty." I consciously kept the rising anger out of my voice. "I am the daughter of the late Teyrn and Teyrna. I was raised away from Highever, and encountered my brother by accident after Ostagar."

Her expression was hard to read, but skeptical seemed likely. "Raised away from Highever? Where? The Couslands always opposed fostering their children. Why would they do that?"

"Somewhere remote and safe, your Majesty. I'd rather not say, as it would put those who raised me at risk. As for why – I don't know, and I'm afraid asking them now will be difficult."

She pressed her lips together, obviously not convinced but unable to continue questioning me without appearing rude. "I am sorry-"

She was interrupted in what I assumed was a platitude for the death of my parents by the entrance of Eamon and Teagan. Eamon bowed, Teagan glowered, and I almost laughed. Teagan went to stand by Theron, while Eamon pulled up another chair. I watched Anora's expression turn thoughtful as she noticed Alistair neither stand when Eamon entered, nor give up his seat behind the desk.

"I hope we didn't miss anything?"

"Just introductions, your Grace."

"Oh good, so you've met Lady Cousland, your Majesty." To his credit, Eamon managed to keep his usual irritated expression off his face when he looked at me.

Anora nodded. "Indeed. I would like to hear more about your upbringing sometime, Lady Cousland."

"If you like, your Majesty." Bowing my head in assent, trying to look agreeable, took significant willpower.

Alistair saved me from having to say more. "I hope you don't mind if we wait for those sorts of pleasantries, your Majesty. Please, tell us what happened when Warden Aedan rescued you?"

"I don't know what happened before they reached my door, though they were covered in blood. We tried to leave, but we were ambushed. I slipped out during the fighting – no one stopped me in this disguise – and came straight here, as Aedan had informed me where he was staying. I don't know much else. I had to sneak here – I left there probably two hours ago now."

I felt my heart drop; it had been expected, but I had hoped they could have avoided it. "Who were they fighting? Your Majesty," I added the honorific as a second thought when she turned a frosty gaze my way.

"I do not know. No one I recognised."

"Ser Cauthrien wasn't there?"

"As I said, no one I recognised. I imagine Ser Cauthrien is at the palace with my father."

I tried to hide my sigh of relief; Alistair and I shared a relieved look. Alistair was opening his mouth to ask more questions when a servant rushed into the room.

"Your Grace, your Majesty," the servant practically stuttered, his movements jerky as he appeared to be trying to choose between bowing and kneeling, "the Warden has returned. They are in the main hall." His face was pale, and I'd have thought it was just nerves, but he caught my eye with a barely perceptible grimace.

I didn't wait; I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hallway, back the way we'd come.

The first person I saw was Anders, alive, but looking ... grey. He had a bulky bandage around one arm, and it was soaked through with blood. He was slumped against the wall, clinging to his staff like it was a walking stick, and I thought he might vomit if anyone jiggled him. Solona seemed to have no such concern as she barrelled into him from a side passage, tossing her arms around his neck. I saw surprise on his face, followed by relief; then he buried his face in her pale hair, releasing his staff to pull her closer. He slid down the wall, still holding her, and she followed him down.

A jumble of people obscured my view of the rest of the room, but Alistair cleared a path like an arctic icebreaker, pulling me behind in his wake. I reached the front of the crowd just in time to see my brother, evidently unconscious, being lowered to the floor. I glanced at the others who had accompanied him, to see Leliana looking tired, dried blood streaked from a new barely-healed scar on her forehead; Zevran held Aedan's head in his lap, and an unfamiliar raven-haired man with his back to me was helping to lower my brother to the floor. The man had greasy hair tied back with a leather thong, and his clothes were dirty and unkempt, one step from the rag bag. He had scruffy facial hair, not long, but not well-kempt either. Wulf was glowering in the back with another newcomer – an absolutely filthy female elf, wearing mismatched armour and gripping the former werewolf's arm tightly.

The dark-haired man looked up at the commotion, and I gasped, windmilling my arms as I screeched to a halt; I'd have fallen, if not for Alistair catching me and setting me back on my feet.

"Nathaniel? Nathaniel Howe?" I couldn't have mistaken that face no matter how much facial hair it hid behind.

He glanced at me, face drawn in confusion; I didn't have time to dwell on it when I noticed a steady trickle of blood coming out of my brother's mouth. I shouted for Wynne and heard a soft reply; while the healer worked her way through the crowd, I threw myself to the ground beside him, grabbing one limp hand and putting my other hand on Zev's shoulder. I looked over at Anders.

"What happened? Why didn't you heal him?"

"Magebane," the mage croaked, gesturing to his bandaged shoulder. He looked completely spent. "One of them got me, and must have coated his blade with it. I don't even have a scrap of mana." Solona swore and started pulling at the bandages, her aura flaring as she prepared to pour healing into him. "I'm fine, love. And you're not much of a healer. I never thought I'd say this, but it's lucky I spent so long in solitary on magebane, otherwise I probably would have had to be carried back too."

Wynne reached us and sank to her knees beside me, her blue diagnostic scan already running over Aedan's battered body. She clucked in disapproval. "I'm going to try to stabilise him, but then I'm going to need," she glanced at Anders and shook her head, "Jowan, and Morrigan, and a lot of Lyrium. And somewhere to work."

All three dwarves rushed off to find the necessary people, and Sten stepped forward. "I will carry him once he's stabilised." He nodded to Wynne, who was already weaving healing spells and laying them across Aedan's comatose body. When she drew back, the big man took Aedan into his arms bridal style, far more gently than I'd have thought him capable of, and he headed to Aedan's room.

Zevran helped Wynne up, and I stood.

Alistair clapped his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. "Everyone please, we will meet in the library in two hours to update you. For now, please take care of yourselves, get cleaned up, while we get Aedan healed."