Chapter Text
"Thank you for seeing me."
Where else am I suppose to go? Edmund wanted to ask Bann Loren. He and his nephew Oren have been Loren's guest for more than a week, but this was only their second night at Caer Oswin. Most of their time in Loren's company had been spent on the road.
He told Edmund and Oren that they were his honored guests, and they've been treated with every courtesy since Loren and his men picked Edmund and Oren up at that inn so many days ago, but Edmund remained suspicious. He had to be, after what Howe did to his family. Howe too had been a guest of his family, and returned their hospitality with betrayal and death.
So here he was, standing in his host's study. Loren could be found behind his desk, sifting through piles of vellum. Across one wall on display was where Loren's family sigil hung proudly. Over the fireplace was a family portrait of Loren with his wife, Lady Landra and his son and heir, Dairren. They were just two of the many who perished that night.
A large table anchored the room with more than a dozen chairs tucked in. His estate wasn't as large as Cousland castle so his study also was his meeting room where he talked and met with the various freeholders and knights under him. Several maps were sprawled out on top of the table. Walking by the table to reach Loren, Edmund noticed some of the maps were local detailing of Loren's holdings and properties, while some of the other maps out were of the Bannorn, as well as the Coastlands, and a map of Ferelden.
Unsure how to respond, Edmund just nodded. The two hadn't spoken much outside of their meals. And even then their conversations were quick and casual. Edmund couldn't blame the Bann, he's sure every time Loren sees either Edmund or Oren he's reminded of the wife and son he lost.
The longest conversation the two men shared was their first one where Edmund retold his and Oren's escape from their home. Loren hadn't tried to hide his tears or his misery at the part where Edmund spoke of discovering the bodies of Lady Landra and Dairren in the guest chambers.
Edmund had silently respected Loren's unabashed display of grief for his lost loved ones. He was braver then Edmund, who hadn't dared show any sign of it in front of Oren in fear of upsetting or scaring his nephew.
At the time, Edmund had tried to persuade Loren to let him finish the story another time, but the Bann refused he wanted to hear all of it, and Edmund had reluctantly obliged.
"I must say I was surprised with you, Edmund." Loren was a short man, as well as plump around the middle, but the man's arms signaled that he still had strength in them and was more than capable of wielding the mace he carried. His red hair was kept short, and his brown eyes were watching Edmund closely for a reaction.
Confused, Edmund wasn't quite sure how to respond to the Bann's remarks, "Pardon, my lord?"
"When I showed up at the Inn, I was expecting a half crazed warrior," Loren explained. "Ready to fight and die, but instead you surrender without as much as a whimper."
"It was prudent to surrender," Edmund defended his actions.
"I was half expecting you to try to commandeer my men and lead us on a march to Highever to try to reclaim your family's home." The Bann's tone conveyed his approval of such an idea.
"That would have been unwise." He was tempted, so tempted, but there was more to his life than vengeance. He had Oren to think about.
"I suppose," Loren leaned back in his chair, "But I never thought you would surrender so willingly."
Edmund wasn't sure if the words were intended to be insulting or not. "If I thought our lives were in danger I wouldn't have."
"Ah," that seemed to amuse Loren. "So you do not see me as a threat?"
"I see all men as threats." It was the final curse Howe had put on Edmund that fateful night. His ability to trust had come easy but now he saw enemies everywhere, imaginary or real. His faith in people and his willingness to trust others had died alongside his parents that night.
"A wise perception," Loren agreed.
Was this what he wanted to talk about? Edmund mused, to speak his disappointment at their first encounter. To tell Edmund that he had been expecting a fierce warrior but instead all he got was a tired, broken man.
"I asked to see you because there is much we need to discuss," Loren must have sensed Edmund's waning patience.
"We?" He frowned. The only we for Edmund was him and Oren.
That got a smile out of Loren. "We are allies, Lord Cousland."
"Is that so?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"It is," Loren confirmed, standing up. "That night Howe unknowingly forced an alliance sealed by blood." He walked over to the fireplace. "It cannot be undone by promises or coin." He pointed to his family portrait. "The night he butchered our families Howe made us allies."
Trust no one, a small voice warned in the back of his head, but even Edmund's suspicions of Loren were fading. In fairness, they had never been strong to begin with. It was hard to suspect that a man would ever work for someone who was responsible for killing his wife and son.
Loren took Edmund's warring silence as permission to continue. "That night a pact was written by the blood of our families. It is our duty to punish those responsible."
"Retribution is a fragile foundation for trust."
He turned away from the portrait and towards Edmund. "Is it?" He scratched the graying stubble along his jaw line. "I cannot think of a stronger foundation."
"What if we view retribution differently?" Edmund challenged, he wasn't sure why he was, but his suspicious side was provoking him. He wanted to test Loren. He needed to know the Bann's goals for this proposed alliance. "Our vengeful hearts will turn on each other to seek what we believe to be our just acts of revenge."
"There is only one fate for Howe and that is death." Loren walked back over to his desk, "However that will be no small feat if the latest gossip out of Denerim is to be believed."
"Gossip?" Edmund repeated. Until he visited that inn, he had been actively shunning the rest of the world in an effort to shield Oren and himself from the dangers that were lurking and waiting for them. Part of the reason why he had decided to go to that village was on the hopes of getting some useful information especially any rumors from the south.
"Howe has claimed the Arling of Denerim."
Impossible, Edmund wanted to shout, but he was too surprised to speak. He was struck silent at the thought of Howe being allowed into the capital city of Ferelden without so much as a punishment for his actions against Edmund's family. Not only was Howe not punished, but now he had another title, collecting more land and power.
Surely, Anora would have done something. Her love for him may have dissipated, but her love for his mother, and father had always been strong. Yet, she did nothing to the man who murdered them. Edmund could feel the hot anger churning and seething within him.
No, he tried to stem his anger. He tried to see reason. He tried to see hope. He needed to see hope. He couldn't believe that Anora would willingly allow Howe to stay a free man. There has to be a reason. The words and rationality helped to temper his anger.
"This means that Howe now controls Northern Ferelden." This couldn't be happening.
"Yes, he does," Loren sighed. "He has formed a near impenetrable hold on the north to attack any of them would require feeling the brunt of Howe's terrible power."
Edmund moved to the table where the maps were sprawled out. Looking at the map of Ferelden, his eyes drifted over to the land that Howe now controlled. All of the territory east of Lake Calenhad and north of the North Road to the Waking Sea now belonged to Rendon Howe. Through Highever and Amaranthine he held the Coastlands in an iron grip. With the addition of Denerim, Edmund wasn't sure there was another man in the country stronger than Howe.
"Wait," Edmund's eyes traveled south to Ostagar. "What about the King? Teyrn Loghain." What about my brother and Highever's forces? He silently added.
"That was the other news I had received from Denerim."
Loren's tone made Edmund's stomach painfully clench. This cannot be good.
"Ostagar was a disastrous defeat." Loren's voice was flat as he continued, "The king is dead. Teyrn Loghain has sent word across the country of the defeat and his return to Denerim." He cleared his throat. "In the message he also reported your brother's death."
He felt his knees buckle and Edmund had to grab the edge of the table to stop himself from falling, instead he slid into one of the chairs. His hands were shaking.
You weren't supposed to die, Fergus, Edmund blinked back tears. You were suppose to come back to save Oren and me. He slid a hand over his eyes feeling the warm tears begin to trickle down his cheeks. Not recognizing the anguish cry that escaped his lips. He felt his shoulders shake, as the sobs wracked his body.
The death of Fergus undid him. His strength waned and his walls completely shattered. He found himself being swept up in all the emotions he had tried to bury since the attack. Witnessing his parents' deaths, watching his family home go up in flames, having his life ripped from him…
"I'm sorry, Edmund," Loren's voiced was thick with empathy.
"What am I to do?" Edmund found himself asking. He instantly regretted voicing the question out loud, feeling embarrassed at how clueless he sounded. He was supposed to be Oren's pillar, his strength.
Oh Oren, the reminder of his nephew caused Edmund to slam his fist into the table. He now had to tell his nephew his father was dead. That he wouldn't be coming to save them the way they envisioned. It seemed a cruel joke for his nephew. Oren didn't need an uncle. He needed his father.
Loren had been silent, allowing Edmund to grieve uninterrupted. He didn't try to comfort him with empty words or gestures, he stayed silent.
After a few steady breaths, Edmund regained his composure. He wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve, scrubbing his cheeks to remove any remnants of his emotional distress.
It was over, he told himself. It's behind me. He now needed to move forward and do everything he could for Oren.
"We must spread the word," Edmund said. "Others must know that Oren and I live."
He thought about his Uncle Leonas, the Arl of South Reach. Surely, his Uncle would come to them once he found out what happened at Highever.
"It's not words you need," Loren countered, standing across from him. "If you want Ferelden to know that you live than you must fight!"
"Fight?" Edmund wanted to scoff, but he didn't. "How? I have no men."
"But I do," Loren corrected. "I do not have the strength to directly challenge Howe." He tapped his finger on a particular portion of the Bannorn just east of Loren's lands. "But I may have an opportunity for you."
"What?"
"A scouting party of Howe supporters looking for you," Loren explained, "If you were to engage them, if you were to beat them. The news would spread through the Bannorn of your survival, of your victory. And soon all of Ferelden will know that you live and you mean to reclaim Highever."
"It would only be a small battle," Edmund pointed out, "what good could that do us?"
"All it takes is a spark to start a blaze." Loren rebutted. "If word spread of not just you living, but of your victory, much of the Bannorn and the freeholders within the Coastlands would flock to your banner."
The plan had merits, Edmund had to agree. The rewards were great and the risks seemed low. He had no doubt that if a battle took place in the Bannorn between his forces and Howe that the news would spread quickly. The Bannorn was notorious for its capability of carrying news especially gossip across its breadth very quickly.
"We still need an army," Edmund observed. The skirmish may gain them some support, but it would also draw Howe's attention to them. They didn't have the strength to repel his numbers if he chose to bring his full might down upon them.
"We may have one," Loren pointed to the eastern portion of Ferelden. "Your brother supposedly died in an ambush, but the Highever forces are relatively unscathed. In fact they are marching right now under Teyrn Loghain back to Denerim, and if your Uncle joins with the strength of South Reach behind him..."
"We'd have our army." Edmund finished, a rare smile came to his lips. The forces of Highever would march for Edmund not Howe if they knew he still lived. The Couslands had earned fierce loyalty from their subjects throughout their reign.
"Exactly," Loren matched his smile.
The smile didn't last, as Edmund thought of the snag in the plan. "I can't lead forces." He shook his head. How could he be so selfish? How could he be so forgetful?
"What about Oren?"
"Your nephew can stay with me," Loren assured him.
"I…I don't know," Edmund wasn't sure about leaving his nephew behind even in Loren's care.
"If you do not fight then Howe has already won," Loren argued. "If you want your life back then you must fight for it!"
"I need time," Edmund pushed himself out his seat. "I need to think about this."
This was happening all too fast. This morning he and Oren were talking about when they would leave Caer Oswin. Now he and Loren were talking about Edmund leading a rebellion in his nephew's name. The King was dead. His brother was dead and the darkspawn were still a threat in the south.
There was also Teyrn Loghain. He survived Ostagar, maybe, with the strength of his army he would be able to punish Howe where Anora could not. Then there would be no need for any battles to be fought.
How could Edmund have been so dumb in forgetting about the Hero of River Dane? Surely, Loghain would see justice is done and that Howe was rightfully punished for his crimes. Then Edmund and Oren could return to Highever.
"Very well," Loren acquiesced, "but time is against you, and soon this opportunity will be beyond our reach."
"I understand," Edmund made his way to the door, "But for now you must excuse me, I need to tell my nephew that his father now too is dead."