Old Roads: Pitiless Games Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen entertains some entirely unwelcome guests, and is called When Despair Speaks(and on AO3.) Chapter is SFW; story overall is rated M.
Title: Old Roads: Pitiless Games
Rating: M (for the sexytimez, and for occasional graphic violence)
PC: Amell
Word Count: ~118k, ~9k this chapter
Spoilers: At this point, it's not so much spoilers as it might not make any sense if you haven't played through Origins/Awakening...
Summary: Amaranthine is destroyed, and Warden Amell travels to Vigil’s Keep to take command. But one either must play the game of politics or be used as a pawn, and like it or not, every last one of Kathil’s demons are about to come home to roost... Amell/Zevran/Cullen, post-Awakening, multiple viewpoints, Part 5 of Old Roads.
Some things were as inevitable as winter, war, and chewed boots when there were puppies about.
One of those things was that, eventually, Eamon was going to find out that Anora was in Vigil's Keep. What Cullen hadn't expected was that Eamon would come to him about it.
"I don't know what you expect me to do," he said. "You really should speak with Kathil about it."
Eamon looked pained. He had come to find Cullen in the salle, timing his appearance for just after morning practice. Cullen was holding an armful of potmetal swords, still. "The Warden-Commander has apparently decided that I am not worth listening to," Eamon said. "I was hoping I might appeal to your reason. Anora is a dangerous woman. Maker knows I saw that up close too many times during her reign. Ferelden cannot afford another struggle over its leadership now."
Cullen shrugged and started racking the practice swords. "She's a guest here, the same as you." He dropped a sword into the rack with an unnecessary amount of force, eliciting a satisfyingly loud metallic rattle. "You haven't yet told me what you want us to do with her, or given me a good reason to try to intervene with Kathil. Not that I ever have much luck talking her out of anything." He racked another sword, frowning.
"You have more influence with her than I." Eamon took a ragged breath. "If you would turn Anora over to my guards, I can have her on her way back to her prison before sunset."
He slammed home the last sword and turned to face the old arl. "Her mother might object."
"Her mother?" Under the beard, Eamon's jaw hard gone hard. "Celia is dead."
There was a soft cough from the doorway of the salle. "I am afraid that is not quite the truth, is it?" Both of them turned to see Celia striding across the wooden floor of the salle, her footsteps silent but for the swish and rustle of skirts around her ankles. "And well you knew it, Eamon Guerrin."
"It is one of the oldest stories. A woman weds a hero, but it turns out that heroes often do not make good husbands."
Title: Old Roads: Pitiless Games
Rating: M (for the sexytimez, and for occasional graphic violence)
PC: Amell
Word Count: ~118k, ~9k this chapter
Spoilers: At this point, it's not so much spoilers as it might not make any sense if you haven't played through Origins/Awakening...
Summary: Amaranthine is destroyed, and Warden Amell travels to Vigil’s Keep to take command. But one either must play the game of politics or be used as a pawn, and like it or not, every last one of Kathil’s demons are about to come home to roost... Amell/Zevran/Cullen, post-Awakening, multiple viewpoints, Part 5 of Old Roads.
Some things were as inevitable as winter, war, and chewed boots when there were puppies about.
One of those things was that, eventually, Eamon was going to find out that Anora was in Vigil's Keep. What Cullen hadn't expected was that Eamon would come to him about it.
"I don't know what you expect me to do," he said. "You really should speak with Kathil about it."
Eamon looked pained. He had come to find Cullen in the salle, timing his appearance for just after morning practice. Cullen was holding an armful of potmetal swords, still. "The Warden-Commander has apparently decided that I am not worth listening to," Eamon said. "I was hoping I might appeal to your reason. Anora is a dangerous woman. Maker knows I saw that up close too many times during her reign. Ferelden cannot afford another struggle over its leadership now."
Cullen shrugged and started racking the practice swords. "She's a guest here, the same as you." He dropped a sword into the rack with an unnecessary amount of force, eliciting a satisfyingly loud metallic rattle. "You haven't yet told me what you want us to do with her, or given me a good reason to try to intervene with Kathil. Not that I ever have much luck talking her out of anything." He racked another sword, frowning.
"You have more influence with her than I." Eamon took a ragged breath. "If you would turn Anora over to my guards, I can have her on her way back to her prison before sunset."
He slammed home the last sword and turned to face the old arl. "Her mother might object."
"Her mother?" Under the beard, Eamon's jaw hard gone hard. "Celia is dead."
There was a soft cough from the doorway of the salle. "I am afraid that is not quite the truth, is it?" Both of them turned to see Celia striding across the wooden floor of the salle, her footsteps silent but for the swish and rustle of skirts around her ankles. "And well you knew it, Eamon Guerrin."
"It is one of the oldest stories. A woman weds a hero, but it turns out that heroes often do not make good husbands."