After six years in Kirkwall, Cullen never thought he'd see the mighty Hero of Ferelden ever again until one night when she appeared unannounced in his room requesting him to help her track down a dangerous blood mage. Can he come to terms with his u...
In writing My Hope, I had a few extra memory scenes that never made the final cut. I didn't want to bog down the plot more by cutting back, or they expanded upon something I'd already touched on and seemed superfluous. But then I thought, eh why not share them.
They're not important to the overall story, but here are a few more scenes with Lana, Cullen, and Alistair.
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9:34 Denerim
"Lady Amell!"
Her rouged cheeks lifted in a forced smile, as Lana turned to find a familiar Bann and her husband rounding upon her from across the full to bursting hall. The name slipped past her grasp, though she suspected it was someone from the south. The Bann, an older lady with a ruddy complexion to match her exuberance, grabbed onto Lana's empty hand and pumped it up and down three times.
"I never imagined the Hero of Ferelden would grace us."
"Yes," Lana tried to remove her hand, but the woman had the vice-like grip of a constrictor. She'd need a plate of butter to loosen it free. "The Hero of Ferelden wasn't thinking she would either."
"Ha!" the Bann chuckled, still pumping her hand as if she expected water to dribble out of Lana's mouth. It was going to be a long night. Why did she even agree to this?
Nearly all of Ferelden's gentry was in attendance for the celebration, dressed in their own ruffled finery as they circled around each other trying to peck their lessers into place. It was going about how she suspected it would. Few paid much attention to the short woman slipping around the back and making eye contact with no one, not until the nameless Bann shouted hers across every marbled floor. A cacophony of curious onlookers flocked towards the unmistakable Hero of Ferelden who at least had her hand returned to her.
Voices perked up, mumblings curious about what would bring the reclusive Savior of the Blight out of her fortress. She'd damn near skipped almost every holiday the court held for the past year.
No, year and a half.
My stars.
Rather bold of an Arlessa to do such a thing.
But then again, she did have special recompense from his majesty, wherever in the blighted void he got off to.
Lana smiled and bobbed her head through it all, not hearing a lick of it. A few of her wardens had offered to come as backup but at the time she thought it silly. She was attending a party at the palace in Denerim, not storming a broodmother's lair. In retrospect, the broodmothers were less treacherous.
"My Lady," a voice oozed and she recognized this one, regretfully. It was the wife of Bann Loren, a pinched woman who reminded her of a belligerent and vengeful goose. She kept her grey hair short and slicked back the better to highlight her clifflike cheekbones. Rather than try to soften her icy exterior, this woman embraced it as one would a truncheon. "What an absolute pleasure to see you here in attendance. I assume you brought a gift."
