"Not precisely," Henry didn't break out of his open stance, but he slid a hand around his father's arm to steady him.
"The darkspawn?"
"Were destroyed, father."
Teagan smiled at his son, the pair sharing the same never darkening eyes. "Good," he patted Henry on the cheek as if the boy recited all his letters right in one go. "Good, and you three..." The Arl turned his never-ending smile upon the three Theirin children all clustered together. "I'm gladdened to see you unharmed."
They all glanced at each other, uncertain just how unharmed they were after that, but none of them wanted to break Teagan's spirit with it either. Rosie moved to step forward to offer the official greetings of the crown, when her not-uncle smiled. "There's someone else here who's be far more excited to see you."
All three heads tipped back to follow the Arl's gaze through the doors. A few more of Teagan's retinue flocked out including his wife, all recognizable to Rosie but none she'd put as more important than the Arl. Suddenly a voice, despite its tendency to wobble through the octaves, rose above the crowds, "Let me see!"
Hands pried through advisor robes or shoulders and a face worn by three days or more of white stubble prodded through the gap. His always quick brown eyes darted past Henry right to the three children whose jaws all dropped at the sight.
"Dad?" Myra mouthed.
Their father smiled wider, his cheeks straining from the force when Rosie gathered her skirts and dashed up the stairs. She didn't care if every important member of the gentry was watching and clucking. She'd stared down death, could have gotten everyone in her care killed. She needed her father. Launching forward, Rosie wrapped her hands around him in a giant hug. Her father was quick to return it, his body bowing backwards from the force, but he supported her.
"Well, that's quite the welcome," he chuckled, patting into Rosie's back as she mashed her weary face into his chest. "Cailan?" Alistair extended a hand wider to his son, but the boy shook his head.
"I'm good, thanks," the aloof young man stated, even as his eyes refused to leave their father.
Myra stirred her foot in the dirt, seeming to want to launch forward but she followed her brother's stance as well. Only Rosie buried herself into her father, wishing he could erase all the faults, the memories, the pains of the last week. The deaths.
"Father," she yanked her face back to look up at him and the happy smile crumbled as he recognized tears in her eyes.
"What in the Maker's name happened?" Alistair gasped, staring from eldest to youngest, but neither wanted to speak.
Mercifully, it was Henry who stepped forward to fill in the gaps, "Darkspawn. They had struck the camp prior to our arrival."
"Andraste's blood," the man cursed. Forgetting his son's and younger daughter's stance, Alistair stumbled forward and wrapped his hands at least partially around both. Cailan gave up the most fuss, while Myra melted into it. "Are you hurt? You don't look hurt." His eyes darted past them to the caravan wandering behind. That was where the true damage lay. For the most part, the king's glance was brief, having to take in much, but he stopped at Gavin and honed in on the bandaged arm.
"She's gonna have my hide for that," their dad whistled a moment before turning to Rosie. "Where's Avery? That gloomy bastard should have..."
Turning deeper into herself, Rosie tried to bite through the wobble in her lips. Announcing deaths was another part of the future Queen's duties. People passed the veil all the time, and it was her job to be impartial, to show strength where others faltered. But Rosie wasn't the queen; she was barely a princess anymore. All she was, was a scared young woman who wanted anyone else to take this off of her.
"Spud?" her father whispered the childhood nickname, a hand rubbing up and down her shoulder.
"He's dead," Rosie gasped out through the tears.
"Dead?" Alistair tipped back his head and a breath whistled through his teeth. She could see a curse bobbing in his throat, which he was surprisingly good at containing. "Maker's sake, I mean, I thought he'd outlive me. The money pinching ones always make it to a hundred, but..."
"The darkspawn," Rosie mumbled, trying to wipe away the foolish tears. She staggered out of her father's grip and attempted to find the spine she let scatter to the ground. "They cut him down without thought while we watched. We didn't...there wasn't time to...save him."
"Rosie," he folded in on himself, the giant in her life -- in everyone's life -- humbling to an old man who'd stumbled in and out of more battles than she could remember. "It's not..." he began before shaking it off. The pair stared at each other in silence a moment, no words needed to be said. She knew it wasn't her fault, but it was. She was in charge and he died. That was how it worked.
"They fought valiantly," Henry spoke, attempting to cover over the blanketing silence. "All of them proved to be brave and nearly had the horde subdued when we came upon the darkspawn. In particular, our dear Princess here."
She felt her cheeks burn at the compliment, Rosie attempting to wave it away. Her dad smiled, well aware that she had some combat training if not much to any experience. "Glad to see all those sword lessons paid off. Maybe we can finally talk your mom into okaying a war axe, or a mace."
"That's..." Rosie began to melt at the overbearing proudness leeching off him.
Tipping his chin up, he glanced over at Myra who despite being the tallest in the family seemed to have shrunk below them all. "I imagine you put on quite a show as well?"
Myra opened her mouth, but whatever snide comment she had faded and she simply nodded her head.
"Your mom would be proud."
"Is she here?" Myra inched up a bit taller, her head peering around at the assembly.
"No, she's back in Denerim. Some big todo involving that double murder case," their dad shared in a life with his second daughter the first two children knew almost nothing about.
Myra nodded in an instant understanding, then sighed in relief. "Good, cause after the week I had last thing I need is mom critiquing my technique with a flagpole."
"Flagpole?" their father was intrigued, sliding a step closer to Myra, before turning to his legitimate children. "Ah, your mom's not here either. Just me."
Neither Cailan nor Rosie expected anything different. While Myra's mother, Reiss, would often travel with their father for trips, their mom never thought it her place. She preferred the solitude of Denerim, or to holiday at her parent's old estate by the sea. The children would take the trip with while their father remained behind to work...or be with his other family.
"So," Alistair slapped his hands together, "after that ordeal I think we could all use some cake. There's cake, right Teagan?"
"There's always cake, your Majesty," their uncle chuckled.
"You better not be lying," Alistair said, dangling a finger near the Arl as if there was a threat hidden in there, but Teagan laughed it away. "Oh, Gavin my boy, get up here. Don't worry, I won't make you hug me."
The squire's eyes darted over to Rosamund a moment before he stepped away from the rest of his fellows. Rosie watched Ser Daryan staring straight ahead, not speaking a word of the young man under her charge being favored by a King that ignored her. Good.
"What happened to your arm?" Alistair shouted, reaching for Gavin's injured hand as if he could heal it.
"There was a fight..." the boy began, his eyes darting around out of fear.
"Okay, better than 'Late at night I was walking to the bushes and fell down a big hole.'" The King's eyes shined as he laughed with the stoic boy who dared to let himself smile a bit at the silliness. "But the down and gritty, come on, I can take it. Is it bad?"
"No, it's healing better than I..." he took in a deep breath, and for a long beat his eyes darted over to Myra, "Fire burned into it."
"Darkspawn are using fire attacks? Don't tell me they can breathe the stuff like dragons. Just what we'd need, dragon born darkspawn."
"No, Sire, they were simply on fire."
Alistair paused i
n his laugh, his eyes darting over to Myra who was turning brighter red at the scrutiny. "Ahh...say no more. Someone better take a look at that," their father stepped towards Gavin and he leaned closer. His voice didn't entirely dip to a whisper, but he added, "Someone very special."
Rosie had no idea what her dad meant, but Gavin's eyes opened wide and he began to whip his head through the palace windows as if he expected to see someone hiding amongst the bricks. Turning from Gavin, Alistair moved to ascend the stairs and make good on the offer of cake, when he paused and turned to a form standing just a bit behind the squire.
"Forgive me, I don't know if we've ever been introduced," her dad slipped down and...stuck his hand out right to Anjali. For a moment the woman stared at it in a laugh before shrugging from the inanity and gripping back. "Who are you, exactly?"
Rosie's eyes shot open wide, her throat trying to swallow down the panic, while her brain attempted to come up with an answer. She's a consultant. She's a hired hand. She's the woman that kept me alive.
Unfortunately, in the internal chaos, Cailan stepped in. With a shrug, he said, "She's the assassin."
Their dad's eyebrows crumpled, confusion dampening his sunny exterior to one of dark rainclouds. He whipped his head from Cailan, back to Anjali -- who still held his hand -- before landing on Rosie trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart.
"You know..." Cailan continued to their dad before he too glared at his sister. "The assassin that we found. Well, he found," he tipped his head at Gavin, "the one that Rosie supposedly told you about."
Dropping Anjali's hand, Alistair turned away to glare at his first born. "You let an assassin travel with you?!"
"Father, it's..."
"You didn't blighted tell him?!" Myra shrieked as she interrupted. "Of course, I knew it was weird he didn't come out. Send us back. Shit, scoop you up on horseback and make you return to Denerim. I mean, we catch some strange woman who belongs to the Scarlet Ribbons..."
"For the love of the Maker, she's a Ribbon?" Alistair jabbed a hand back at Anjali who wisely hadn't moved an inch. Realizing he turned his back on a woman known for stabbing them, the king suddenly flipped and kept one eye on her while trying to turn the other upon his errant daughter. "Do you have any idea how dangerous they are? They're assassins. They murder people. Murder, death, all that killing stuff. What...what in the Maker's vast oceans were you thinking?"
"She saved my life, multiple times..." Rosie insisted, now waving her hand to Anjali as if the woman was a cursed vase or something.
"That's what they do. Wily little assassins, first they show up and try to kill you, then they say they'll watch you, then they try to kill you again. Need I remind you how damn many assassins I've had after me!" he was shrieking almost incoherently now, tears springing from his eyes. "She could have killed you!"
"She didn't! She never intended to kill me. She's with us to stop the real assassin..." Rosie clamped her mouth shut, her eyes opening wide at the slip. Sadly, despite playing the fool, her father wasn't.
"The real assassin?" he honed in on her like a shark trying to sniff out the ribbon of blood in the water. "What real assassin? You knew, you were told assassins...blighted Rivaini assassins were coming for you, and you didn't tell me a Maker damn thing?! What in the void were you thinking?"
"That you'd overreact! That you'd drag me back to Denerim kicking and screaming because you think I can't handle it. I can. I have. I am!"
He took a deep breath, his soft brown eyes with all the easy-going smile lines furrowed down into frowns focusing on her trembling shoulders. "You got Avery killed."
The blow struck hard, Rosie scattering back from his verbal reminder of her failure. But she was stubborn, maybe not the same as Myra. There was a spirit in Rosie that wasn't about to back down to her father's whims. "That was darkspawn, a darkspawn attack you didn't think it worthy of mentioning to me either. All your messages have been nothing but platitudes. You never tell me anything important, never let me know that...!"
A hand landed upon Alistair's shoulder, Teagan's eyes catching Rosie's bluster as the Arl hissed, "This is hardly the place for the two of you to be having this private of a conversation."
Both father and daughter, king and princess, glanced around at the gathered people who fell deadly quite. The miniature flags they'd been waving at the joy of seeing their royals all drooped from having to suffer their row. Alistair swallowed hard and pinched into his forehead, "Teagan's right. Just...get inside. Get cleaned up. We'll talk about this later. Maker, how much more do I have to deal with today?" he aimed the latter part at one of the red robed advisors standing beside the door.
The woman glanced up at her king and grimaced.
"That's what I feared. Come on," Alistair groaned then lifted his voice, "All of you. I bet you're hoping for some of that thedas famous Redcliffe hospitality Arl Teagan's known for." He rubbed his hands together greedily, then shot a glance at Teagan who was rolling his eyes and sighing.
"Please, step this way so we can find lodgings for the weary travelers."
Henry fell into step with Cailan, both men looking over quickly at Rosamund who was still fuming so hard she felt as if her feet were on fire. Behind them dashed Myra who grimaced and whispered, "Sorry, Rosie."
When Gavin rose up the stairs, Alistair grabbed onto his hand and whispered, "Second story, third door on the left." The boy turned in confusion but the king had already moved on to greet others, a smile plastered on his face. Rosie knew it was the fake one by the way his jaw kept twitching. He intended to browbeat her into heading home, to giving up on her duties, to return to being the meek mouse that had fancy tea parties and never touched politics.
She intended to fight him every step of the way. Falling in beside the doors, Rosie too began to wave to her people and offer them greetings as if she hadn't seen them before. For a breath, her father glanced back and she thought she caught a shared moment. Out of everyone in Ferelden, only Rosie could know how exhausting the life of answering to every citizen before yourself could be. They wouldn't be able to begin their proper fight until they'd secured sleeping quarters for everyone, arranged food, eaten it, met with the castle's top staff, and made a show of solidarity. It was certain to be after sundown before the real gaatlock could explode.
"Rosie," Alistair said, his head lolling back towards her, "gather up your assassin, please. She seems lost." Anjali turned away from the king staring daggers at her, before tipping down her head and rushing towards the door.
Maker have mercy on them all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tea Kettle
Even suspecting he knew what to find, Gavin's heart gave a small leap when he opened the door the King told him of to discover a dark skinned woman sitting on the bed. "Mom?" he gasped out, surprised to find his legs melting under him.
His mother turned from staring out the window to smile wide. She opened her arms and he fell into them as if he was a child scared of the thunderstorms rattling the roof. "Whoa," Lana rocked from the force of her much larger son all but barreling her over.
"Sorry," he tried to ease back, all the scoldings about how fragile his mother was snapping into his mind, but she laughed and wrapped her hands tighter around his back.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I just didn't expect that warm of a welcome." She patted into him, making Gavin feel more self conscious for coming so undone so quickly.
"Is dad here, too?" he leaned back from her, allowing his mother to place her hands in her lap.
She tipped her head to the side and laughed, "Do you really think I could get more than a few steps outside the abbey without him?"
It was as much a reference to her legs as the fact her husband would never leave her side. It seemed like something that would chafe Gavin but somehow she never minded. Placing an elbow into her palm she sighed, "He's out somewhere, probably got stopped by one of the Arl's men who wished to talk shop."
"Mom..." Gavin ran his fingers over the back of
his hair, savoring the scrubbing feel of it buffing away the dead skin. "Why are you here? Are you..." The pit of his stomach opened and he gulped hard, "are you following me?"
"Maker's sake. Can't I catch up with an old friend?"
Gavin glared, his eyes narrowed to pinpricks of amber. While most anyone else would squirm his mother merely sighed.
"Put that away, young man. It hardly works on me. And take a seat, I feel like my head's going to fall off if I keep staring up at you."
Unable to escape the tongue lashing from his mother, Gavin slunk down a bit and turned to find a chair. Dragging it over the old floor, he sat rigidly in it while waiting for an explanation. Lana was taking her time smoothing out the wrinkles in her lap before glancing up.
"Better. Now what were we talking about?"
"Mother..."
"Very well," she rolled her eyes, "I swear to the Maker, you're worse than your father when clamping your teeth down into a problem and worrying it to death. No, we are not here trying to follow you, or check up on you. We didn't even realize you'd be here, especially so soon."
Gavin twisted his hands around, his eyes darting to the bandage on his arm. She had to have noticed. She was always the first to spot cuts and bruises on his body as he grew up, quick to heal them away with a kiss to the forehead.
Falling quiet, his mother prodded a finger into her lap and sighed, "I was helping to track the darkspawn."
His head sat up fast, Gavin gasping, "Can you sense them again?"
"No," she held up her hands, already cutting off his line of questions. No doubt his father asked the same, probably a few dozen times. "No, I can't. But I do know how to fight them. How to track them. Teagan's boy's turning into quite the warrior. Rather surprising considering how I first met his father."
Gavin turned a question at her, but Lana sidestepped it. She did that often on matters the Hero considered beyond him. "What of you?" Now she very clearly eyed up the bandage and waited.
With a sigh, he began to unravel the knot of fabric, slowly revealing the blistering skin below. To her credit, Lana didn't gasp at the sight. She'd seen far worse in her days, Gavin knew, because he'd had to help on occasion, but she did blink her eyes rapidly. "A burn?"
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