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“Cailan’s what?!”Teagan Guerrin was not sure how he expected to find out about the death of his nephew, the King of Ferelden. But, buried hilt-deep inside a busty pirate captain would’ve never crossed his mind as a possibility. Especially not when she continued to twirl her hips over his firmly-seated cock, carefully watching his reaction with an amused twinkle in her eyes, as if she hadn’t just shared realm-shattering news mid-coitus.Not that Teagan even entertained the thought of his nephew’s death, mind you, let alone where or when he would find out.Sure, Cailan was childish and immature, grew up coddled inside the walls of the palace and doted upon by an army of servants. Sure, he tended to wear rose-tinted glasses while seeking glory to live up to his father’s legacy. But dead? How! He had the entire army of Ferelden protecting him!And how did the pirate hear the news before him?The rational, duty-bound side of Teagan knew he should swiftly extract himself from his current…situation and find out more. The death of a monarch was no small matter. There were condolences to send, legal documents to draft, matters to settle.Sensing his attention drawing away, a well-timed whirl of Isabela’s expert hips drew his attention back to the present. His eyes fell back onto the particularly to the well-endowed Rivaini astride on top of him, still very much enjoying their engagement.Instead, his traitorous hands roamed of their own free will up the soft plush skin along the outside of her thighs, around the back to her well-toned ass, still twisting and twirling around him as if putting on a show. His eyes followed the movement, hypnotized, as the friction against his cock is drawing pleasure down his spine directly into his core.Surely duty can wait another hour…He was a weak, weak man.He allowed her to continue her ministrations as her fingers traced the lines of his muscles across his shoulders and chest, leaving a trail of pleasantly tingly flesh in their wake. His hands roamed up the planes of her well-toned abs, seeking their destination. He grabbed and groped at her beautiful tits, damp with sweat. His fingers carefully teased and circled her sensitive nipples until they stood at attention for him. Then he pinched the nub between his thumb and forefinger roughly and pulled with just enough pressure to hurt. This move was a particular favorite of the pirate’s, and he was not disappointed when she rewarded him with little moans of pleasure falling from her lips.He loved her tits. They’re what kept him coming back to her ship any time the captain visited Denerim.Propping himself up on an elbow, he continued the attention on her breasts, bringing his lips to her nipples licking, nibbling, and sucking at the nubs, earning him another moan and a lyrical chuckle.“Welcome back, sweet thing.” Isabela cooed, amused eyes still fixed on his face.His surprise at the news must have entertained her. Too distracted by his current task at hand, not to mention the ever-growing need for release at his core, he pushed all other thoughts to the back of his mind and bucked his hips to match her rhythm.Still, a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that she was just the kind of woman to purposefully drop a bomb while fucking. She wanted to gauge his reaction and entertain herself.He was in no mood to be entertainment.He growled, the sound somewhat dampened by the fact that his mouth was still fully enclosed around an excitedly erect nipple. His arms swung around, grabbing her firmly before flipping her onto her back.The smirk on her face spurred him on.He grabbed her wrists and locked them together above her head, holding them in place with a single hand. Not that she was struggling much, he noted absently to himself. His other hand found its resting place on her hips, firmly locking it in place before he pumped into her at a furious and brutal pace.Her legs wrapped around his waist eagerly, urging him on.Her hips matched his rhythm, thrusting rapidly to draw as much pleasure from him has he from her. Her soft moans grew louder, mirroring the growing tension inside his core and at the base of his cock. He was close, but he wanted her to be closer. Recognizing her peak was growing near, he brought his free hand down to stroke the sensitive nub between them.That earned him another loud moan as he felt her body wind and coil.A few more pumps before he felt the telltale signs of her climax as the walls around his cock tightened deliciously, then pulsed and twitched with each wave of her release. The tightness was enough to send him over the edge, his release pulsing out of him as he rode the waves of pleasure.He collapsed on top of Isabela, panting to catch his breath atop her soft pliant form as they both enjoyed their post climax haze. After a few minutes of mixed sweat and intersecting breath, Teagan noted Isabela’s fingers lazily trace lazy circles on his back.Then she broke the silence. “I didn’t realize you haven’t heard, sweet thing.”Teagan sighed and rolled off her, extracting himself in the process. With some satisfaction, he observed the comingled evidence of their love-making trickling down her thighs.Isabela’s cabin would be considered snug by any decent tavern’s standards, but it was generously sized for a ship. Most of the cabin’s space was taken up by the large, soft, velvet-covered four-poster bed that he’s currently lying on. Teagan has long suspected the bed is the most used piece of furniture on this ship, hence an essential if over-sized fixture.He stared at the low, wood paneled ceiling, lost in thought.“No, I didn’t.” He replied finally with a sigh.Now that he’s beyond a sex-fueled haze, the news and all its implications flooded to the forefront.His situation was a fitting metaphor, really. His body was naked as the day he was born, which was also how his soul felt at this moment. How could his nephew be dead? He gathered a powerful army, had support of Teryns, Arls, and Banns alike from across the nation. He had Highever lending manpower, the Grey Wardens lending their expertise on the blight, and the king’s own father-in-law leading battle strategy. No matter how cocky and over-confident Cailan may have been, surely there were sufficient arms to protect the bloody king!He rolled onto his side and gazed into Isabela’s eyes earnestly. “Tell me everything you know.”Isabela caressed his cheek tenderly before rolling off the bed to get dressed. “That kind of information doesn’t come cheap.”“Oh? Won’t the entire realm know of Cailan’s death soon?”“And yet, none of your noble friends have heard a peep, sweet thing. Don’t you find that suspicious?”That peaked Teagan’s interest. He lifted himself up on the bed and raised an eyebrow at the half-dressed captain. “Speak plainly. What do you mean?”Almost fully dressed with the exception of a belt and her boots, Isabela leaned over towards a still-naked Teagan, showing off her generous cleavage. She planted a slow, languid kiss on Teagan’s lips before withdrawing.“Since you’re such a dear about ensuring my ship docks in Denerim without trouble, I suppose I can share my secrets.” She winked suggestively. “Word from Ostagar is the Grey Wardens betrayed Cailan and misguided him. It led him to face the darkspawn horde under-prepared. Loghain and his men were forced into a retreat and barely survived.”Teagan frowned. “Why would the Wardens betray the king? I thought their purpose was to battle the blight?”Isabela laughed. “Always took you for a sharp one! The battle ended a week ago. By right, a raven should’ve delivered news in a day. Tell me, sweet thing, why do you think Denerim is still blissfully ignorant?”Absentmindly dressing himself, Teagan chewed on Isabela’s words. A quick glance up at her told him that he was being watched very carefully by sharp, intelligent eyes. He was being played. Yet, her words made sense. Something was terribly wrong. He hadn’t put together the pieces yet, but something about Isabela’s expression told him she had.“Someone doesn’t want Denerim to know.” He replied finally as a matter of fact.“Oh you clever thing! I wonder who that could be?” She played up an exaggerated pout while pretending to think, eyes still fixed on him in amusement. This woman was starting to give him a headache.“Spit it out, Isabela! You’re clearly walking me to a conclusion.” He roughly pulled on his boots, choosing to vent his frustration at the sturdy articles of clothing rather than the infuriating woman before him.She pouted again before waving her hands airily. “Oh, you’re no fun! Don’t you think it suspicious that your dear brother fell ill, then the Couslands died in a tragic attack on Highever, and now the King is dead with no apparent heir? The line of succession to the Ferelden throne is shrinking rapidly, sweet thing. You’re moving up that line at quite the alarming speed, I might add.”She walked closer as she was speaking until she stood before him, close enough that he could feel heat radiating off her body and the scent of sex still lingering on her skin. She brought up a hand and teasingly traced up and down his arm.She continued in a cooing voice before he could respond. “Who’s left in the line of succession, I wonder? Who has survived despite all the tragedies that have befallen Ferelden’s powerful leaders and advisors to the crown?”Teagan’s first thought jumped to Anora. Cailan was never much of a ruler, too entranced by his fanciful notions of battle and glory. Anora, however, was a steady hand at keeping the realm’s affairs in order. She was the natural successor without a clear Theirin heir, especially when any nobles with potentially distant bloodline claims recently found themselves out of commission or deceased. Anora would need support though. Her claim was tenuous at best, which naturally led to thoughts of her father, hero of the occupation and Teryn of Gwaren.Loghain, who conveniently survived the battle at Ostagar where others fell.“Can’t be...”Isabela’s smile widened. “Seems the pup has figured it out.”Teagan hastily gathered what remained of his items in the cabin. If what Isabela was hinting at was true, there would be a civil war. No, the evidence was too speculative. He needed to gather more information, to prove the case. Even if he believed the theory, he, a Bann of a minor bannorn, would never win a battle of credibility against a Teryn and the hero that freed Ferelden from the Orlesian occupation.He had much to do – scouts to deploy, missives to send, allies to gather. More importantly, he needed somewhere quiet and private to think. He should be mourning Cailan. But more pressingly, the landscape was shifting too fast and he needed to figure out what he wanted.Even with his mind racing, he was aware of Isabela proximity while she watched him closely. Fully dressed and with all his personal affects gathered, he turned to face the pirate captain. She was rooted in the same spot as before, hips leaning to one side sensually and arms crossed. He felt his eyes draw, seemingly of their own freewill, down towards her cleavage. The woman was infuriatingly aware of the effect this pose had on her body.Teagan allowed his eyes to rake over her body once more. “Pleasure as always, Isabela.”“Leaving so soon, Teagan?” She pouted, as if her words weren’t the catalyst that whipped him into action.“So much to do, so little time.” Teagan replied, chuckling.“Yes indeed,” Isabela replied, dropping her spurned lover act. “Word is Loghain will be back in Denerim in two days’ time.”“Two days…that’s not a lot of time.”“No. We sail out tomorrow first light. Won’t be back for another few months. Do come back and visit at my next return, my lord. I so enjoy each of our meetings. Oh, and don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”Isabela’s wink and mirthful laughter were the last things Teagan recalled as he hastily departed the Siren’s Call.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He was pacing.The carpet in his temporary quarters on the upper floor of the Gnawed Noble Tavern bear the telltale sign of a well-trodden path as Teagan paced like a caged panther, all his muscles coiled in stress and tension.Eamon should be dealing with this…this mess. Teagan wouldn’t even be in Denerim if not on another wild chase of Isolde’s to track down Redcliffe’s knights. This city, with all its power and machinations, wasn’t Teagan’s idea of a good time. The Maker had a great sense of irony.Under normal circumstances, he would’ve called on brother to handle the whole situation. Teagan was the less competent younger sibling with too much fondness for spirits, tourneys, and women; and he liked it that way. Eamon, on the other hand, was the stately older brother, close advisor to Cailan, brother of the beloved former-Queen Rowan, and lord over a powerful Arling. Eamon’s instincts were often spot-on, perspectives invaluable, and his word carried weight. Unfortunately, Eamon’s illness meant he could offer none of the assistance Teagan required.I’m the best of the realm? Teagan scoffed incredulously. What would Eamon do? Teagan knew the first step instinctively. He would confirm the veracity of the rumor before proceeding with any plan.Eager for something to do, Teagan spent the morning reaching out to official contacts for news of Ostagar. They all came back empty, with some not even aware that the battle had occurred. His shadier, unofficial contacts, however, were abuzz with news of Cailan’s death. News of the Grey Wardens’ “betrayal” had already traveled far and wide across the seedy underbelly of Denerim, with many mercenary bands vying for the generous reward attached to each Warden’s head.When the third piece of unofficial word corroborated the same story, Teagan slouched back into his seat. It was true then. Cailan was truly dead.Teagan grunted in frustration. We should be planning a state funeral, organizing a Landsmeet, and discussing matters of succession with the full court present. Instead, without official word, I can’t even openly mourn my nephew and king. Loghain, just what game are you playing at here? Funny how since last night, he settled comfortably into Isabela’s theory that the Wardens’ betrayal was a lie to cover up a deeper and more sinister plot – a plot Loghain was at the center of somehow.The official course of action should be to reach out to other Banns and nobles to discuss the situation. But Teagan wondered how much any of them knew? More importantly, how would they react to him, a minor Bann not even present at Ostagar, delivering the news? He couldn’t risk shocking the nobility into guardedness and mistrust, especially with the situation being so tenuous. No, he needed allies. Fast.He had to give the pirate credit where credit was due. If she had outright told him her suspicions, he would’ve denied it and thrown up a wall. Instead, she slowly guided him towards the natural conclusion, allowing him time and space to arrive there himself.All while having sex, of course, in a way that only Isabela could pull off.And what was he supposed to do with the information? He was a minor Bann with a modicum of interest and talent in politics at best. If Isabela was placing a bet on him benefiting from the chaos, she was sorely mistaken.No, he needed to gather enough proof and allies to bring back to Redcliffe. And…he would figure out what comes after.Teagan chuckled mirthlessly when he pictured Eamon’s displeasure at learning of Cailan’s death and Loghain’s involvement. It was unclear to Teagan what role, if any, Anora played in the scheme. He had always liked the queen. She was beautiful, graceful, and competent, albeit cold and aloof. Why would the Queen want to conspire with her father to wrest power she already possessed?The hollow theorizing and wandering served no one. Glad for action to ground him, Teagan focused on the next step. Allies.He mentally considered through his contacts, reviewing who might be a good first point. Someone who could allow him to dip his toes into the waters without creating too big of a ripple or scalding himself.Bryce Cousland was the next other natural ally – one of two Terynirs in Ferelden, powerful enough to rival Loghain’s title and beloved by his people. Bryce had a sterling reputation and a childhood friend of Eamon’s to boot. Last Teagan heard, there were no survivors from the attack on Castle Highever, so they’re out. Nevertheless, he hastily jotted down a missive with orders to investigate the incident and confirm survivor status.Then there’s the Arl of Denerim, Urien Kendells, who traveled to Ostagar with Cailan. So, most likely dead. His dick of a son, Vaughn, was rumored to have been killed in an Alienage uprising. Good riddance – his death was kindness to Denerim and its citizens. It conveniently left Denerim without a leader.Arl Bryland was busy dealing with the blight in South Reach. Arl Wulff secluded himself in West Hills. Rendon Howe arrived in Denerim a month ago, but that man gave Teagan the creeps.
That’s all the Teryns and Arls out, which means the task falls to the Bannorn.
He penned a carefully worded letter only detailing the rumors from the “unofficial” contacts and requested news from the Waking Sea. He sealed the letter carefully with the official Rainesfere seal and called his most trusted runner to deliver the letter post-haste to Bann Alfstanna. She was a trusted ally with a strong will and good judgment, their past history and dalliances notwithstanding.Teagan then penned letters of inquiry to Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak and Bann Rodolf of Dragonmount.Finally, he penned a carefully worded letter to Bann Carric Mac Eanraig, expressing condolences for the death of Eleanor Cousland, Carric’s sister. Not knowing the Bann of Storm Coast well, Teagan opted to inquire after news of Highever and share just enough of his knowledge, hoping for a peaked interest and some reaction.The task complete, he rinsed the ink off his fingers, braided his hair, changed into some fineries, and set off to pay a visit to Bann Bronach of Winter’s Breath, who happened to be in Denerim on business.----Bann Bronach was an elderly man in his early 50s. Dark blue intelligent eyes were lined with wrinkles and laugh lines. His previously vibrant auburn hair braided in traditional Ferelden style now greying. A large bushy grey beard hid a strong, proud jaw.“My boy Teagan! How nice of you to visit.” His booming voice showed none of the dulling from age. What immediately followed was a tight bear hug that almost knocked the breath out of Teagan.“Still got it, old man.” Teagan sputtered weakly after he was released.“Ha! You’re never too old for a knife in the back. Don’t get lazy on your training, my boy. I can feel you getting soft in the middle.” A finger poked at his admittedly pudgier tummy.Teagan snorted. “Sage advice from a wise old man.”Bronach ignored the dig and moved to lounge casually on a cushioned chair in his sitting room, indicating for Teagan to sit as well. “You didn’t come all this way to call me old, did ya, boy? Tell me, what can I do you for?”Teagan shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room towards the servants and guards.Seeing Teagan’s discomfort, Bronach waved his attendants away despite his guardsman’s protest. “What can the boy to me! He’s all flab now.”Teagan rolled his eyes in exasperation as the last of Bronach’s attendants left the room, closing the door behind him.Bronach leaned forward, dropping all his previous air of jovial bravado. “You wanted them gone. This better be good. Talk to me, boy.”“Have you heard word from Ostagar?” Teagan leaned forward too, mirroring the older man’s posture, voice low.“Not officially. You?”“No, not officially. Unofficially though…”He trailed off, watching for any reaction or recognition. Bronach maintained the same serious façade, hiding any knowledge behind a solid mask.
The old man is still very good.
“My contacts heard chattering,” Teagan continued. “A lot of chattering.”Bronach raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it’s bad news?”Teagan sighed. Might as well spit it out and end this little dance. The old man was clearly not going to show his cards until Teagan makes the first move.“Yes, very bad news. News of a defeat at Ostagar, the army overwhelmed by darkspawn, and…Cailan’s death.” Teagan watched Bronach very carefully.Now it’s Bronach’s turn to glance around his sitting room. Whatever he might have seen or not seen, he appeared satisfied before locking Teagan’s gaze in open earnestness. “Aye, I’ve heard the same thing. Troubling, is it not, that the King passed and bounties put on the Grey Wardens’ heads without a single official word of the battle.”Teagan nodded mutely, relieved at Bronach’s response. “Troubling indeed. What do you think of the Wardens’ betrayal?”Bronach paused to study Teagan without answering. The pause felt so long that Teagan felt himself actively fighting the urge to fidget and just spit out his theories. He mentally added “uncomfortable conversations” to his list of skills to improve upon, which already consisted of restarting sword practice and getting less “flabby”.When Bronach finally spoke again, it was quiet and deadly. “I think the Wardens are a convenient scapegoat.”Teagan sighed in relief, which prompted a bark of laughter out of the old man, who slapped him on the back none-too-gently.“Nervous, were ya boy? You’re right to be nervous. The information is dangerous, and our suspicions even more dangerous.” He stood up and poured two goblets of wine. Handing a drink over, he sat back down and leaned forward again. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know?”Teagan took a big drink of the wine for courage and related his theory. He spoke of Eamon’s illness, the Couslands’ deaths, the unrest in the Alienage, and how he himself was moving perilously quick up the chain of succession for a distant marriage relation. Bronach, to his credit, listened intently without interrupting, occasionally sipping his wine.Finally, Teagan finished with fully sharing his suspicion that Loghain may be involved, as all events appear to benefit a consolidation of power in Anora and Loghain’s hands.“What you uttered is tantamount to treason, boy.” Bronach responded carefully.Teagan sighed. “I know. Without official word, it’s difficult to discuss the events of Ostagar openly. I don’t know who knows and who to trust.”“Which further sows chaos and confusion.”“You…you think it’s intentional that we haven’t received word?”“Aye, knowledge is power after all.” Bronach allowed some mirth to glint in his gaze.“So…what now?”“I will speak to Loghain when he arrives tomorrow.” Bronach declared. “He cannot refuse an audience with an old war buddy, especially the one who fed and clothed him and his men while they fought and claimed all the glory. I need to hear his side of the story. I owe him that much.”“Are you sure this is wise?” Teagan felt nervous and startled on behalf of his old friend.“Yes. I see no other course of action.” Bronach sighed, looking his age for the first time since Teagan entered his abode. “I trust Loghain has Ferelden’s best interest at heart. Whatever happened at Ostagar, we need to know his side of the story before a Landsmeet can determine the rightful successor to the crown.”He put an arm on Teagan’s shoulder before continuing.“This conversation did not happen, boy. Loghain will know nothing of your suspicions. You’re a good man, Teagan. And Eamon is a good man. I pray to the Maker for a speedy recovery for his illness. But, if our theories prove true, Redcliffe needs you.”Teagan simply nodded in response. “Luck be with you, my friend.”------That evening, Teagan returned to the Gnawed Noble Tavern after sharing a pleasant supper and a bottle of Antivan wine with Bronach. He was quietly musing about how much he enjoyed the old man’s affable company when he spotted a courier outside his door. Startled, he unconsciously reached for a sword at his empty side.The courier spotted his movement and quickly reached out to deliver a letter. “I was instructed to hand-deliver to Bann Teagan Guerrin, my lord. Assume that’s you?”Seeing Teagan’s tentative nod, the courier hastily shoved the letter into Teagan’s hands and hurried away.Teagan entered his room, scanning the space carefully for any other surprises. Seeing none, he gently closed and locked his door for privacy and security. He grabbed his sword for good measure before sitting down at his desk to examine the letter.Fine parchment, sealed with the official crest of the crown. Teagan’s heart pounded so loudly he’s shocked it didn’t beat right out of his chest. He swallowed nervously as he opened the letter.It was a summon, on behalf of Queen Anora and Teryn Loghain, for his participation at an emergency Landsmeet.Tomorrow. Noon.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next morning, he received a hastily written letter back from Alfstanna, delivered by a weary courier who looked as though he rode through the night.
Teagan,
Your news is troubling, especially in light of the rushed summon to a Landsmeet. I cannot make it to Denerim in time to attend. Know that whatever your position may be, you have my full support, as well as the full support of the Waking Seas. Send word as soon as you’re able. Be safe.
Alfstanna
With no other correspondence to attend to, he freed some space in his chambers and pulled out his longsword. Recalling the training regiments once imprinted upon him as a boy, he forced himself through the exercise sequence, thankful that his muscle memory was reliable. Each thrust, slice, pierce, and lunge felt looser and more sluggish than he remembered. Bronach was right - Teagan was getting soft. He had a lot more work to do to get himself back in fighting shape.After a thoroughly exhausting sword practice routine, he washed and dressed himself. With the surprise of the courier at his door and Bronach’s warning still ringing in his mind, he donned his full armor and strapped his sword to his side, vowing to never go without again.He was taking a late breakfast in a quiet corner of the main tavern hall, eyeing the suspicious barkeep idly, when a figure plopped into the seat next to him. He turned to spot Bann Rodolf sipping an ale nonchalantly.“I thought you were in Dragonmount?” Teagan uttered in surprise by way of greeting, mouth still half full of porridge.“It’s poor manner to speak with your mouth full, my lord.” Rodolf drawled teasingly, though the smile creeping into his expression indicated that he meant no harm.Teagan swallowed his mouthful of food hastily and offered the man a lopsided grin. Rodolf was dressed in an embroidered tunic and breeches made from the finest silk. The yellow and red tones of the outfit contrasted poorly with the man’s salt-and-pepper hair and grey complexion. Nevertheless, he appeared to be ready to attend the Landsmeet.“Yes, where are my manners.” Gathering as much grace and charm as possible, Teagan offered a mocking bow from sitting. “Good morrow, my good lord of Dragonmount. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”Rodolf scoffed. “Playing coy ill suits someone of your stature. I wish to discuss a matter of great import to trade relationships between Rainesfere and Dragonmount.”Teagan offered a tight grin as he polished off the remaining porridge, noting the performative nature of the Bann’s voice. He stood up, offering a genuine half-bow this time, and matched the decibel and cadence of the conversation. “Yes, I’m heartened by progress of trade talks. Let us retire to my quarters to discuss further.”Rodolf nodded and followed Teagan upstairs. Scanning the hall and his room carefully, Teagan cleared the area of any suspicious eyes or listening ears. He gestured to the older man to step in after him before closing the door softly.“Trade relations? Really?” He couldn’t help but smirk at the cover.Rodolf, for his credit, smirked back with equal mirth. “Best I could do on short notice, my lord.”“This is hardly the time to lose focus. I assume you’re not here to talk trade relations?”The older man’s smirk fell from his face, laugh-lines smoothing over to a mirthless expression. “No, simply looking to share interesting news with a fellow Bann.”Teagan quirked an eyebrow, nodded, but otherwise said nothing.“You’ve heard of the trouble in the alienage, yes? By my best elven servant’s accounts, his daughter’s wedding gone wrong and Vaughn Kendall slaughtered. Can’t say I’ll miss the bastard. Kid had a mean streak.”“To put it mildly.” Teagan scoffed, unconsciously wincing at memories of the cruelty he witnessed during visits to Denerim. Vaughn tried, on multiple occasions, to bring Teagan on excursions that sounded akin to raping elves. Teagan might be many things, but all his dalliances were firmly consensual. “What of Arl Kendall?”“Marching with the king at Ostagar. With Loghain’s name on the Landsmeet summon…”Teagan winced again.Rodolf paused at Teagan’s reaction. He carefully turned over and considered his words when he finally spoke after a pregnant pause. “Your letter of inquiry, Teagan. What are you seeking?”Teagan fidgeted and twitched under the weight of the older man’s dark eyes burning into him. For the second time in less than 24 hours, he felt out-classed and out-played by the old political hands of Denerim. Returning to Redcliffe never sounded more appealing.“Simply curious, my lord.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant.“Of course,” Rodolf was unconvinced, but didn’t dig further. “Further news from the palace this morning. Arl Rendon Howe was appointed the new Teryn of Highever in addition to Amaranthine, by order of the Queen.”“What! Howe of all people?”“Indeed. His interests in Highever have been poorly masked, some family feud dating back generations. Even with the Cousland’s untimely death, this feels rushed. No official determination of succession rights, and we don’t have confirmation of Fergus’s fate.”Teagan tried to keep his expression smooth as he recalled his history lessons. Such an appointment should be subject to scrutiny of the Landsmeet before issuance by the King himself. “From my knowledge, Fergus was last sighted at Ostagar. His unit was deployed on a scouting mission to the Kocari Wilds.”“Indeed.” The older man sighed, turning to Teagan with steely eyes. “Bryce Cousland was a good man and a friend. Many have noted that Howe and Teryn Loghain are close. I expect the Landsmeet to shed more light, but I fear the worst. Dragonmount will not bow to snakes and usurpers. I have said too much. I should return to other matters. Good day.”The older man turned before Teagan could react and left the room.That was certainly an enlightening conversation. Checking the time, Teagan finished his preparation to head towards the palace, securing himself a spot front and center at the Landsmeet.---The Landsmeet did not go as planned.Teagan hurried towards Bronach’s estate, almost running in his haste. Ignoring the typical hustle and bustle of the Denerim Market, he hoped to blend into the crowd as just another guard running an errand.The sounds of the Palace and Market Districts were dominated by gossip of the Landsmeet. He tried to block out the words, not ready to process his own action yet, let alone how the Denerim rumor mill would judge him. Besides the occasional words of “king dead”, “regent”, and “bannorn” piercing through his defense, he remained mostly successful at ignoring the idle blather.The walk gave him ample time to reflect on the Landsmeet though.He assumed the nobles would discuss the matter of succession. He prepared a speech to advise caution and judiciousness. He did not expect Loghain to declare Anora Queen and himself Regent. Without official word of King Cailan’s death until the start of the Landsmeet, Loghain denied his detractors time to organize and deny his proclamation. With no powerful voices remaining and a lack of organization, Anora ascended to the throne unimpeded with Loghain as the puppet-master.
That clever old fox. He knew he would face resistance. This was his game all along.
Teagan felt like a cornered animal, furious at the righteously blatant Teryn before him, with no recourse to halt the proceedings. For the first time in his life, he wished he was a more strategic political actor.Instead, his anger took over. His words tasted uneasy on his tongue even now. His boldness came as a surprise to himself, and Loghain too judging by the tight expression he wore.
“Your withdrawal was most…fortuitous.”
“The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!”
“Did he also do what was best for your husband, your Majesty?”
He vaguely recalled Rodolf’s side-eye as he paced back and forth – the old man ‘s expression a mixture of surprise and…respect? To the old man’s credit, Rodolf clasped Teagan’s shoulder after the Landsmeet concluded, and pledged his support for the Bannorn’s rebellion.Is that what happened? Teagan thought vaguely. His head felt as if shrouded in a cloud. Loghain’s claim on the throne was tenuous at best, his methods ruthless, and Teagan firmly believed his rule would ignore the bigger threat of the darkspawn. Was a rebellion the next logical step? How did the situation get so out of control?He was out of his depth, and he needed help.Rapping on Bronach’s door, he was greeted by the estate’s steward, who informed him that Bronach departed early morning and had not returned yet. Teagan was assured that Bronach intended to make some social visits in the morning, attend the Landsmeet, then return for supper.Feeling restless, Teagan declined the supper invite in favor of returning to his room instead. He couldn’t shake a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach the entire walk back to the Gnawed Noble Tavern.The bartender waved him down, interrupting his desire to beeline to his room. Begrudgingly, he took a short detour to the bar and shot the dark-haired man a tired annoyed look. The bartender paused his scrub of the bartop and emerged with a large stack of letters from back.“All recently arrived, my lord. Looks like you caused a stir.” Thankfully the bartender understood discretion. His voice was low despite an intrigued eyebrow-raise crossing his face.Teagan simply grunted as he took the letters. He dropped the man a sovereign to encourage continued discretion and returned to his room.The letters felt heavy in his hands and his armor felt even heavier. Suddenly feeling warm and pressure in his chest all at once, he removed his sword and stripped out of his armor, rolling his shoulders to try to shake the tension building in his body. With shaking hands, he broke the seals on each letter and read them, one by one.Word traveled fast. Each letter was short, curt, and appeared hastily written. They arrived from Banns and knights across the realm, some inquiring for more information, some decrying his move against the Queen, and some pledging support to the rebellion.His rebellion.He sank deep into his chair when he finished reading the last letter, having separated the letters into three piles. He felt the inquiries were expected, practical even. He would have questions after all hearing of all the turmoil third-hand. The denouncements, he disagreed with but also understood. The Queen had a rightful claim if one ignored the circumstances of her ascent.Teagan eyed the “support” pile of letters, which stood as thick as the “inquiries” and “denouncement” piles combined. He could not comprehend the support letters. He was no great general, rally-er of hearts, leader of men. He was the son of a war hero and the youngest sibling of prominent leads, constantly seeking to avoid responsibility so he didn’t have to measure up to the family greatness. Why was it his rebellion? Why did the Bannorn support him?His breath quickened at the thought, his chest tight. It felt as if he could not inhale enough air to fully expand his lungs. He clawed at the tunic offensively wrapped around his chest, the pressure of the light material feeling too heavy, like the sudden crushing weight of the responsibility that befell him. He tossed the article of clothes haphazardly to the floor before cradling his head between his legs, fighting an overwhelming urge to vomit and scream at the same time.Teagan felt so very alone.He missed Rowan. Even though she passed over 20 years ago, he thought of her often. Their large age gap meant that she was more of a second mother to him than an older sister. He missed her warmth and kindness, her strength in battle and ruling, her easy grace as she navigated the court. She would know what to do, and she loved Cailan deeply. Teagan prayed Cailan reunited with his mother at the Maker’s side.He missed Eamon’s steady hand guided Redcliffe and brought Rainesfere along, allowing Teagan his leisure to pursue tourneys and women. Eamon had a natural talent for strategy and navigating court intrigue. Eamon easily commanded the respect, love, and loyalty of those around him, even the King himself. More than the skills, Teagan missed Eamon’s companionship and support.Teagan wished, for the first time in his 32 years of life, that he had a partner. Not just convenient dalliances to satisfy a temporary need for physical relief and surface companionship, but a partner in thought who could be a listening ear and guiding hand.It was indeed an amusing thought for a perpetual bachelor.Finally having regulated his breathing, Teagan felt a sharp need for a strong drink, or several. He stuffed the letters into his desk drawers under lock and key. He shifted over to the teak dresser adorning the corner of the room, which held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey and two copper cups. Ignoring the cups, Teagan uncorked the whiskey and turned to his desk.Staring blankly into the empty room, he drank the night away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A hammer was pounding on his head, repeatedly. His head hurt with each rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk knocking against his skull. The hammer, no hammers, was everywhere, pounding at every angle around his cranium with the same cadence. Where would one get so many hammers? And quite the feat to orchestrate such synchronized hammering. Surely this can’t be the most efficient way to construct, or build, or whatever Maker-forsaken reason there is to hammer so very loudly in the morning.It only dawned on Teagan that no real hammers were involved as the world slowly shifted into focus. He was in bed, in his room, in the Gnawed Noble Tavern, in Denerim. He blinked his eyes open lazily, startled by the bright light assaulting his iris. No, definitely not early in the morning anymore, judging by the brightness fighting past flimsy curtains to protrude into the room. It took several seconds for the room to shift into focus, his hands rising to rub at the ache on his forehead. He groaned and blinked his eyes rapidly, hoping the movement would accelerate his return to the waking world.Somehow, the thunk thunk thunk persisted.He groaned again and shifted lazily, slowly raising his body without wanting any rushed movement to exasperate the headache. He glanced about his room, noting an empty whiskey bottle on his bedside table, his clothes littered about the floor. He glanced around the bed searching for trouble and sighed in relief when greeted with nothing but twisted bedsheets and thrown-about pillows. Aside from his stark nakedness, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.The hammering noise continued at his door. Reality dawned on him as he recognized the noise to be a non-too-gentle knock.He dressed quickly to make himself decent, tugging on his smallclothes and yesterday’s breeches. He decided finding and orienting his shirt properly was simply too much effort while the banging persisted at the door. Smoothing his hair, he flung open the door to face the source of his headache and premature awakening.“Andraste’s flaming tits, will you please quiet down!” He all but growled the last couple of words.The culprit was a boy no more than 15 or 16 in age, mousy brown hair and grey eyes affixed on a long skinny face with a pointed chin. The sudden movement in the door and Teagan’s disheveled yelling must have surprised the boy, as he jumped back to the opposite wall of an empty hall.“Uhh…m…’pologies m’lord.” The boy stammered, righting himself without making eye contact. He appeared to be studying a particular interesting panel of wood between the two pairs of feet. “You’s got a visitor, m’lord. You didn answer when I knocked first, but yer visitor insisted I keep trying. I…uh…didn wanna offend any nobles m’lord. Can I send ‘im up?”Teagan concentrated on the boy’s slurred speech, willing himself to focus the sounds into comprehension. Visitor? For him? Why? Very few knew of his landing spot in Denerim – most would assume he was staying at the Guerrin family estate.“Who’s it?” He croaked, throat dry as a cheap whore after a long night of entertaining. He silently pushed water to the top of his to-do list.“Name’s Timothy, m’lord.” The boy fumbled quickly, daring to glance up at the Bann’s face. Seeing Teagan’s eyes narrowing, unimpressed, he quickly cleared this throat and continued. “Yer visitor, ser. He didn say his name, but overheard barkeep callin’ ‘im Arl Howe.”Teagan groaned, rubbing his forehead and eyes. His headache returned with a vengeance. He glanced down, noting his state of undress with wrinkled smelly breeches and a lack of shirt. He was in no state to host any visitor of stature, let along Arl Rendon fucking Howe of all people. If Rowan or Eamon saw him in this sorry state, they would’ve given him an earful about responsibility, over-indulgence, and propriety.“This can’t be happening now.” He muttered to himself. Once again Teagan wished it was all a bad dream, and he’d wake up soon. He squinted his eyes closed and massaging his temples painfully, as if the simple action of shutting out sight of the world would shut out reality. After a long minute of breathing and easing his headache, he linked his eyes back open. He was still there standing at the door, and the boy was still eyeing him, with no small amount of amusement curiosity.Wishing reality away didn’t work. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and worked on forcing his brain to formulate a plan.“Timothy, is it?” The boy nodded. “You seem like a smart lad. Buy me some time. Keep Arl Howe busy for a few minutes and send someone up with water, will you? A lot of water.” Teagan felt his throat loosening from the dry sandpaper itch with every word uttered. Swallowing to further ease the discomfort, he flicked the boy five silver pieces for good measure.Pocketing the coins carefully, Timothy stood at attention. “Aye, m’lord.” With a slight bow, he ran down the hallway towards the stairs.Teagan slammed the door shut, instantly regretting it when the noise triggered another wave of intense headaches. He stumbled over to the washbasin to splash ice-old wash water on his face. He warily eyed his own reflection in the pooled water of the washbasin. Maker, he was a mess. Disheveled hair sticking up in all directions, dark puffy circles bordered dull-looking blue eyes, uneven hairs of his goatee and beard left too-long from lack of care, dried lips showing signs of flaking and splitting. He splashed his face again for good measure before drying off his visage with a washcloth. The only quick solution to address his appearance was the hair, so he hastily combed through the shoulder-length brown locks and made quick work of weaving his customary braid into the left side to frame his face.While putting the finishing touches on his hair, a young girl with a remarkable resemblance to Timothy brought water and a pain-relief poultice to his room. Silently thanking the Maker and his Bride that the boy was as clever as he hoped, Teagan murmured a quick thank you to the girl as she shuffled away from the room, then drained the liquids.The effect was almost instant. His head started to clear up, his throat less parched. Feeling more human, he turned his attention to the rest of his body. He removed his old breeches and wiped himself down with a cloth, hoping it was sufficient to remove the intense smell of whiskey and sweat that clung to his skin. He threw his old smelly clothes haphazardly into a corner and pulled on fresh linen breeches and a shirt. He donned his armor, strapping his sword and shield to his back. Glancing about the room, he was silently grateful he had the foresight to lock away any letters and correspondences. He smoothed down his armor for one more good measure before taking a deep breath to prepare for the encounter.No sooner had he exhaled, Teagan heard a firm knock at his door, followed by an unmistakably grating and drawling voice.“Bann Teagan, it is poor manners to keep guests waiting so long. Open up!”Fighting the urge to curse, Teagan smoothed over a scowl and opened the door.“To what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning visit, my Lord. Or your Lordship, I should say.” Teagan presented his best bow, stepping aside to gesture for the visitor to enter his room.It had been a few years since their last meeting. The years had not been kind to Rendon Howe’s visage. The man’s previously dark hair, combed carefully to either side of his head in a center part, was greying rapidly. His greying eyebrows appeared to be permanently raised in suspicion, dark eyes squinting as they took in his surroundings, pausing briefly on the empty whiskey bottle. Thin lips curled down in distaste while his hooked nose that is far too large for his face wrinkled and flared in disgust.Howe was dressed in full armor, his sword and dagger tucked behind his back. His pushiness at the door, his mannerism, his dress, everything screamed this visit is meant to intimidate. Teagan was silently thankful the boy bought him enough time to don his armor and arm himself.“This room does not befit a man of your…stature, Teagan. The Guerrin Estate is down the road. Surely Eamon permits you use of your family lodging.” Howe’s nasally drawl sent unpleasant shivers down Teagan’s spine.Teagan fought hard to keep his tone light and even. “A tavern room is simpler for a quick visit, your Lordship. No need to mobilize a whole estate’s servants for one man’s whims.”
“Ha! That’s what servants are for.” Howe barked a laugh while shaking his head. “The young and their notions. Perhaps it is simpler to lodge above a tavern to keep one’s indulgences discrete. Servants simply can’t help themselves but gossip about their betters.” His eyes settled on the empty whiskey bottle none-too-discretely.Teagan ignored the dig at him and his family’s servants. Eager to end the encounter as quickly as possible, he pushed Howe toward matters of business. “I guess congratulations are in order. Your assumption of the Terynir of Highever seems most convenient.”Howe paced leisurely in the room, turning over the odd object here and there to regard it curiously, acting for all intents and purposes like he owned the room. “The Cousland’s slaughter was a tragedy. Bryce was an old friend. We fought together under King Maric, when Maric drove the Orlesians out of Ferelden. He and his family were well-loved by their people. Shame too, my daughter, Delilah, and the younger Cousland boy were intended for each other in marriage. No matter, I intend to rule Highever well in their stead.”“Fergus Cousland could still yet live.” Teagan exclaimed, unable to hold his tongue.“Nonsense. Fergus was lost at Ostagar. His entire unit disappeared into the Kocari Wilds, lost to the darkspawn.” Howe scoffed dismissively while continuing his inspection of Teagan’s room, lapsing into silence.Teagan got the distinct impression that Howe fancied himself a predator, stalking his prey. Teagan certainly felt like prey, as he fought the instinct to wince any time Howe stopped before an object for further study. He mentally thanked the Maker again that his correspondences were locked away and not strewn across the desk for Howe’s beady eyes to rake over.The silence stretched on, Howe seeming to have all the time in the world to simply study Teagan’s temporary abode. As the seconds ticked by, Teagan felt a dull throb slowly slithering up the base of the back of his head, heralding the unmistakable threat of another headache. Urged on by frustration and fraying patience, Teagan broke the silence. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit then, Howe? Why are you here?”
“Tsk tsk. Such brutish way of speaking. Did her Majesty late-Queen Rowan not teach you court manners?”“My late sister taught me to respect others’ time, a lesson in which you, my Lord, clearly still require tutelage.”“That’s your Lordship and you’d do well to remember your place, boy.” Howe snarled, pausing his perusal of Teagan’s personal affects. He walked back to the center of the room, facing Teagan squarely, shoulders back and hands clasped behind his back. Chin tilted up haughtily, he glanced down his oversized down to meet Teagan’s gaze.“You seem eager to get to business. I’m here to personally deliver a message from King-Regent Loghain. He is displeased with your outburst at the Landsmeet and your public show of resistance. Her Majesty, Queen Anora, is the rightful ruler to lead Ferelden against threats within and outside of our border under his Lordship’s guidance. Your childish antics and propagation of rebellion will not be viewed kindly by the King-Regent or his royal army. King-Regent Loghain is committed to the unity of Ferelden and the fight against the darkspawn. He commands that you publicly pledge your support.”Teagan fought to keep his expression passive and even, a rising anger coiling and burning in his core. He could feel his face redden and his nose flare despite his best efforts. How dared Loghain make demands of him when he’s the usurper? And how dared Howe barge into his room for a traitorous message? What he wouldn’t give to punch the snaky man in his smug face.It took a few seconds before he manages to force out between gritted teeth, “And what if I refuse?”Howe feigned a serious expression, though the giddiness in his eyes told Teagan he anticipated the refusal with sick glee. “I hear a murderer targeting nobles is loose in the city. Poor Bann Bronach fell to the murderer’s hand yesterday after the Landsmeet. Some poor servant girl found his body in a back alley with a dozen arrows in his torso. It would be a shame to lose someone as important as you, Bann Teagan, to such crude and painful means. Though would certainly justify need to overhaul Denerim’s guard forces. For security, you understand.”Teagan’s heart sank. Bronach’s…dead? The old man was like an uncle to him, a lifeline in this uncertain time. Their last conversation had Bronach indicating that he would visit Loghain for old time’s sake…oh no.Keenly aware of Howe watching his every reaction, Teagan fought to swallow back his pain and anguish. After a few beats too many and eager to end the conversation, he finally managed to respond cooly. “Your concern is noted, your Lordship. Please inform Loghain that his message is received. Will that be all?”“The King-Regent expects your pledge tomorrow at noon in the palace. I trust you will reach right decision.”Rather than replying, Teagan moved to open his door hoping to hurry Howe’s departure.The Arl looked between Teagan and the door before moving slowly towards the exit, only pausing to add - “Playing at hero will not serve you, Bann Teagan. I advise that you comply with the request. King-Regent Loghain takes care of his friends and knows his enemies.” With that, he marched out of the room.Teagan slammed his door shut as soon as Howe safety passed the threshold of his room, then sank into his bed. This must be a terrible nightmare. If he laid on his bed long enough, he would wake up in Redcliffe before Eamon fell ill and Bronach would still be alive, right?
RIGHT?
Tears threatened to swell out of his eyes as he slammed his fist into the pillows over and over. He was too inexperienced, too weak, too stupid. He squandered the privilege afforded to his birth, choosing to hide under the shadows of his older siblings. He shied away from his responsibilities because they were hard, and his hobbies were easier and more enjoyable. He made a choice to flee from the responsibilities paired with his station, and that choice led to permitting an old friend to walk to his death.Teagan should’ve known better, known sooner. He shouldn’t have let Bronach go alone into the viper’s den. He should’ve accompanied Bronach. Better yet, he should’ve dragged the old man to Redcliffe with him the night of their visit, when their suspicions matched.One thing became abundantly clear after the conversation with Howe – Denerim was no longer safe for Teagan.Teagan needed to leave, and quickly. Pledging support for a man suspected of betraying the king, usurping the throne, and ordering Bronach’s murder was out entirely of the question. The ruthless usurper was not the same war hero Teagan grew up revering. He didn’t know who this Loghain is, other than dangerous and unpredictable.Noting the time as close to noon, he quickly packed up what little mattered in the tavern room haphazardly into a knapsack. All letters and correspondences were securely tucked in a satchel hidden on his person for discretion and safekeeping. With one last glance around the room, empty whiskey bottle still laying proudly on the bedside table, he rushed out of the door.