When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Howe

It had been a long time since she had been to the Arl of Redcliffe's Denerim estate, and she was glad of Leliana's guidance as they hurried through the hallways.

Una recognized the voice that was speaking as she approached the parlor. Leliana squeezed her hand, but she barely felt it as she pushed the door open.

"Call off your Landsmeet, Eamon, before it goes badly for you." Teyrn Loghain stood in the middle of the room, facing Arl Eamon. Both men were bristling visibly, neither willing to back down.

Alistair stood behind Eamon, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Loghain, who seemed completely oblivious to the younger man's presence. Behind Loghain stood his second, Ser Cauthrien, a warrior Una had always looked up to and hoped to learn from one day ... and Rendon Howe, a smarmy smile on his features.

She cleared her throat. It mattered little to her that she was wearing travel-stained pants and a dark, hooded jerkin, or that her hair was no doubt tangled and messy and her face dirty from a hasty rub of earth to keep her fair skin from shining in the moonlight. She was here representing the Couslands, and they were a line that had never shrunk from getting their hands dirty in the service of their country.

Loghain glanced at her, his gaze sweeping her up and down with little interest before he turned back to Eamon. Cauthrien's eyes were dark and unreadable. Rendon Howe's smile widened—of course, he would have expected her to be here. No doubt he'd known the identity of the second Grey Warden for some time.

Still, the fact that her presence didn't make the impact she had hoped for didn't change anything. She was here, and her family would be remembered, their deaths avenged.

Eamon waited until all attention was on him again before speaking. "Surely the Regent himself didn't need to come all the way over here just to let me know his nose was out of joint. Such an honor to have you sneering in my very own parlor."

"Your sarcasm does you little credit, Eamon. You know as well as I that you are playing a divisive game with our country. It has to stop."

"You're the one who has divided us! What are you playing at, Loghain? With Cailan dead, Ferelden needs a strong leader. It doesn't need civil war!" Eamon was quickly losing his temper.

"Ferelden has a strong leader—her queen. And I lead her armies."

Una couldn't keep silent any longer. "Considering Ostagar, perhaps it's a better general we need."

Loghain glanced her over one more time. She wondered if he recognized her, if he thought about what had been done to her family. "Who is this, Eamon, some stray from the road? Here I thought it was only royal bastards you played nursemaid to."

"At least you're admitting the royal part," Alistair drawled insolently. "It's a start."

He wouldn't have claimed his heritage for anyone else, Una thought. In the face of the man who had killed all those Alistair thought of as his real family, he would claim the one that had rejected him in order to gain the leverage his bloodline provided him. She hated that he was brought to that, but Eamon wasn't wrong—Ferelden needed a strong king, someone like Alistair could become, with the right tutelage and support.

Loghain was still staring at Una, and she drew herself up to her full height, looking him in the eye. "Surely you remember me. We've met many times in my father's house. I am Una Cousland." She took a deep breath before claiming her family's title for the first time. "Teyrna of Highever." Her eyes met those of Rendon Howe, and he gave her a pitying smile that made her blood boil. She did her best not to show it, but it took every ounce of control she had.