Garryn wasn’t sure he remembered where he’d once imagined his life to be at this point, but having taken the throne at the tender age of twenty-one because Orzammar had fallen and his father had died protecting their people, wasn’t on the list of things he’d considered. He wasn’t alone, he had his brother and Moira, but it was still a big burden, so when the King of Antiva had reached out offering support Garryn was grateful.
Garryn didn’t entirely understand the situation in Antiva, but he knew that Bhelen had supported King Frankie and Garryn wished to continue the relations between the two kingdoms, not that there was much left of the Dwarven kingdom.
One thing that was becoming a clear, the situation with the blight was only getting worse, despite the best efforts of the Grey Wardens. Garryn wasn’t sure what they were going to do, they were still rebuilding and trying to make a home out of the ruins of Ostagar and most of their warriors had died so that the majority of the Dwarven people could flee Orzammar.
Garryn was looking forward to the visit fro m Frankie, ordinarily most of their interaction was via correspondence, but today he was getting an actual visit. He tried to make the place look as presentable as possible, despite their lack of resources. Garryn was outside the tower where they conducted the assembly hall and where Garryn took care of the day to day duties. That was when he wasn’t out around Ostagar helping the people, getting his hands dirty along with everyone else, trying to make Ostagar a home and constantly reassuring people that they would be all right on the surface. He laned up against some stones and closed his eyes for a moment. Not opening them until he heard a rider coming close.
Extending the hand of friendship was one way to ensure that Frankie kept his Kingdom running smoothly. There was nothing worse than a dip in the economy to have the Crow’s and Merchant Princes fueling ideas of rebellion and the dwarves offered a steady supply of goods and craftsmanship that many relied upon, even in their dire state. Bhelen had been a character, one the Antivan King had warmed to. There was something about the stout, gruff folk that he found endearing, even if he did cause some of their more traditional citizens to groan and grumble under their breath.
Ordinarily he’d have discussed things with Garryn via messenger, but fortune would have it that the King was in the area. Attending the wedding of his daughter, he made a point of sending the younger King word of his whereabouts, arranging for the two to meet despite the King’s condition.
He was incredibly hungover. And atop a beast that he had great reservations about.
His stomach lurched dangerously as he and his bodyguards rode their way into the estate's courtyard. Body pitching forward, Frankie would swear luridly in Antivan, hair askew and attire somewhat ruffled as if he’d been roused from his bed and dressed hurriedly. With some trepidation, he’d guide his uncooperative stead in Garryn’s direction.
[color=#c14700]“You know, I did remember we were doing this, but in the haze of a good red wine, I admit it slipped my mind. Much grumbling was had. How dare they let me drink, knowing I was to come see you today.” [/color]
Garryn was glad to see Frankie, between the fact that Bhelen had trusted the King of Antiva, and the fact that Frankie had been such a help since Bhelen’s death, it comforted Garryn to have the king actually there. The look on Garryn’s face spoke volumes about how he felt, as he’d always been an expressive sort, it was hard for him to ever really hide how he was really feeling about something.
Well, you know what they say about Hangovers, hair of the dog is the best cure for that. Though I never really understood that saying, the principle is there. I do believe I have a bottle of whiskey in my study if you’d like to head there. The tower in Ostagar had been purposed for the assembly hall and Garryn’s rooms and office, as well as the other members of the assembly. It towered above the other structures and ruins, the dwarves had been slowly making the place look less like ruins and more like home. Though it was taking time, and Garryn wasn’t a patient sort. The faster the place felt more like home, looked more like home, the easier it would be on the dwarves to feel comfortable up on the surface. Though he imagined there would be some that would never feel truly at home there.
I hope the journey was all right. There’s a fireplace in my study, I know it’s colder down here than what you’re used to up in Antiva. The cold didn’t really bother Garryn that much, but he loved a good fire just the same. Something about the crackling and embers that made him feel soothed when he was having bad anxiety.
Hesitantly, Frankie dismounted, appearing far more relaxed as he planted himself firmly back onto stable footing. Maker,he hated horses.
[color=#c14700]“...This is why you are going to be a fine King, Garryn.” [/color]It may have sounded cheap, but the taller man meant it. [color=#c14700]“Wise, beyond your years,” [/color]he’d add, fingers pressing and then massaging small circles at the temples. [color=#c14700]“Trust me, behind, so rudely awakened in misery. Even worse when hungover. They are only lucky my wife had already risen early, otherwise I’d be later for having to bathe to rid myself of their innards.”[/color] Frankie chuckled heartily. The force of nature that was his other half had been his anchor these years. [color=#c14700]“Trust me on another matter. Find not just a partner of the heart, but a partner of the everyday. It makes the days far smoother when you have someone alongside you who can help you shoulder the burden.”[/color] Suddenly, he made a face. [color=#c14700]“I’m going to need that whisky. I’m entirely too emotional from the trauma of this morning.” [/color]
He followed in step with the young King, eyes adjusting, blinking at the light while taking in the surroundings. His eyes would occasionally linger over some of the dwarf’s repairs, appreciating the craftsmanship. Even in dire circumstances they still held their heads up with pride, their work a prime example of their resilience.
[color=#c14700]“Oh as long as I don’t have to ride horseback much, it’s been divine.” [/color]He’d return. Some sarcasm filled the tone, but there was no malice. [color=#c14700]“My oldest is due to be married. I suppose I should try to get used to this frigid air, but you’re right. A fireside would be preferred.”[/color]
Perhaps in a way, without consciously realising it, Garryn looked up to Frankie a bit like he had his father. He wasn’t just the King of Antiva, but a friend and someone he could be openly honest with, putting the games of politics aside and always just getting straight to the heart of matters. Garryn appreciated that, as playing the game of politics had never been something he enjoyed. He nodded at Frankie’s words about a partner.
Some of the Assembly is on me to find a wife, I keep reminding them we’re still dealing with a blight, now seems like a bad time to worry about finding a wife and producing an heir to solidify my line, we’re not even sure if we’re safe here. How do we rebuild while a threat is still looming over us threatening to once again take everything. He still had flashbacks of his father screaming at him to go, to lead the people to safety. The look in Bhelen’s eyes as the chaos danced around them, no time to cry, no time to argue, but it was that moment that Garryn knew he’d never see his father again. As they entered the study, Garryn pointed over to two chairs by a fireplace, with a small table in between them. The fire had died down, but it wouldn’t take much to bring it back to life.
I couldn’t believe some of the things we found here since we arrived. Still books in the shelves and even belongings in foot lockers in the living quarters. Though the place was a mess, apparently no one had deemed it important enough to clean up after the fifth blight ended. He said as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey off his desk and two glasses. He went and set them all on the table between the chairs, and then poked at the fire, bringing it back to life and adding two new logs to it.
He was not blind to what an alliance would bring to Antiva. While Garryn may have believed his people were at the mercy of those willing, they would also lay a foundation of collaboration and might to those who offered an olive branch. War was not on Frankie’s mind, but the preservation of the balance between the various kingdoms was a delicate thing. Ferelden had offered a platform for the stout folk to rebuild, Antiva would offer trade and some subtle muscle to deter anyone attempting to become greedy. It was a game of chess, and while charm and good intentions were honourable traits, the Game between nations held a heavy responsibility.
[color=#c14700]“They always focus on the worst outcome. The direst of possible futures. Fear Mongering cowards. Pay them no mind.” [/color]Though his head did tilt, obviously. [color=#c14700]“But.. that shouldn’t mean you don’t dip in the pool. You do need to unwind, switch off somehow, and sparring won’t cut it. Trust me.”[/color] Even when he managed to avoid his duties, they weren’t far from his mind and while his wife lay out of reach and wed to another, the body of another was of some brief comfort.
Frankie slipped into the offered chair with ease, fully seating himself back before adjusting the angle to avoid the path of the sun through the window. [color=#c14700]“I imagine they were too busy with the pockets left behind. Memory recalls these parts took far longer to purge, like Amaranthan I’m told. Pity the poor sod who had the pantry,” [/color]he’d chuckle. As Garryn brought the fire back to life, he’d lean forwards to pour the two a good measure each, taking his glass back with him as he sat deeper. [color=#c14700]“I’ve instructed the ambassador to talk to your chancellor? The one who had the request for lumbar? I wanted to check in, since I was around.”[/color]
For Garryn the worst possible outcome had already happened. His father was dead, his people displaced, he didn’t feel ready for what was expected of him, but he couldn’t let his fears show to his people. Compartmentalising didn’t come easy to him, but he did the best he could not to let his insecurities show. His people needed a strong leader in these times, and as badly as there was one part of him that didn’t want it to be him, he also didn’t want to let his father’s memory down by losing control of his people.
He chuckled at Frankie’s comment about dipping in the pool and unwinding. There were definitely dwarves that seemed to follow him around, vying for his attention, but he had so much going on, and how could he really be sure if they wanted him for him and not his crown. Of course, this wasn’t a wholly new problem, he’d had admirers his whole life.
I suppose you’re right, but sometimes I wish I could know what it was like to be a nobody. Would people still be interested in me. He imagined people would, but then he’d know they were interested in JUST him and not his crown. He nodded and agreed with the comment about Ostagar being one of the last places in the blight to be cleared of darkspawn. Which made sense since it was there that the darkspawn had won their biggest battle against the top world, the battle that had decimated the ranks of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. Garryn had only been a toddler at the time, with no real memories of that time, beyond the stories he’d hear years later.
Garryn nodded as Frankie brought up the lumber, one of their biggest needs since settling at Ostagar. Since the only structure really to survive was the tower, most of his people were living in makeshift tents, but there was only so much viable lumber in the nearby vicinity, speak nothing of the fact that working with lumber on that scale wasn’t exactly a strength of the dwarves. Neither was farming, but the elves of Arlathan had helped out with that.
We definitely need more permanent shelters, though I can’t shake the feeling like it could all be for nothing if the blight takes a turn. It would be different if we could still fight, but most of our warriors died in Orzammar. They were training people to fight of course, in case the worst happened, but it wouldn’t make up for all that they’d lost.
There was always some hot-blooded noblewoman intent on making herself a comfortable situation. Frankie could recall this quite well, up until the point he had them all in some degree of tears, or they gave him a swift slap across the cheek. Chuckling to himself, he’d recall how he more often played it for sport than the desire for anything carnal, or maker, feelings.
[color=#c14700]“Just… Always have a good healer in your pocket. Women are troublesome, the right one worth it - of course - but still, one must protect themselves.”[/color] Though with the young man doubting the legitimacy of their affections, the King could only nod. [color=#c14700]“That, I’m afraid, is part of the course. You’ll learn to distinguish if it’s genuine or not. It takes practice.” [/color]
He cupped his glass, enjoying the comforting heat of the rekindled hearth. God’s, why did they have to settle somewhere so bleak as Ferelden? Why did he have to offer his eldest as their prospective Queen? Ruling and ruling with a fair and just hand was never so bloody infuriating when it came to the intricacies of family and the balance of power. Too soon Garryn would experience what he was currently wrestling with. Marrying a child off to a distant land.
While in most large-scale negotiations, he remained a voice of calm resolve, only fools trifled with Antiva. Revenge would be swift on the heels of any plot against his family should opportunists attempt to. His wife may appear to be the obvious threat, given her magical abilities, but the mind of Francesco Campan was wild and creative if unleashed.
This wasn’t the place for dark thoughts, however, not in the company of an ally and growing friendship. Raising his brows, the Antivan looked puzzled. [color=#c14700]“You mean to tell me you’ve all been living under canvas the majority of this time?”[/color] The lines around his eyes deepend, and scowling Francesco shook his head. [color=#c14700]“Bloody Ferelden slackers,”[/color] he muttered, blaming the Dog-Lords inaction before the dwarves lacking location. The Wilds were nearby, but only idiots would trifle and court the witches who dwelt there's wrath.
Garryn nodded as Frankie spoke, and then chuckled at both the women comment and the healer comment. It made his mind wander a bit as he tried to picture what sort of situations regarding women that he had gotten himself in that had required a healer.
Of course, for Garryn his appetites were wider than just women, and he wondered to himself if Frankie would say the same thing about men as he had women. Though, who’s to really say men couldn’t be troublesome. History sure served up enough examples of them on a silver platter. If they could be troublesome about other things, why not in matters of the heart and bedroom. Then Garryn tipped his head curiously.
I’ve always thought, that perhaps if I was forced into an arranged marriage, that perhaps…. I mean I’m not saying I WANT multiple partners at once. That’s a lot to juggle, and I’m not even sure I would call myself polyamorous, but if I had to marry someone simply to secure the line. Wouldn’t it be a solution for everyone to get what they want? I don’t know… He shook his head, it was a silly thing to say. Multiple partners sounded like a lot of work, but on the other hand, so did marrying someone he didn’t truly love.
Of course, there was also the problem of, what if he fell in love with a man. He’d heard rumours of using magic to have children, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about using magic. Sure he grew up with Moira, who was a mage, but nothing like this ever came up in those years. Wasn’t there a price for heavy magic like that? He pushed the thoughts from his mind, he figured he’d keep men and magic babies to himself.
As far as the lumber and current housing situation, it was stressful to say the least. Sure they had some people in the tower. They’d used some wood and tree limbs they’d found in the immediate vicinity, but as far as immediate shelter, it had been easiest to get canvas from nearby villages than it had lumber.
I feel like a lot of villages are being stingy with their resources. I don’t know if I can blame them. Another blight not even twenty years after the last one. I’ve debated, I mean it’s probably a foolish idea, but I can’t shake the feeling that in order to find any sense of real peace in these times. We’re going to have to look further north. In many ways the Dwarves had a lot in common with the Dalish now, displaced and wandering. Though the Dalish seemed to like wandering around, the Dwarves wanted a place to call home.
Frankie made a face at the thought of an arranged marriage. Then shuddered at the brief moments he had been forced to dwell on such. [color=#c14700]“For some it may work, but I have not often encountered it. An arrangement like that though is not uncommon either, for myself. However, I could not see myself entertaining the idea.” [/color]No. He was not one to share, especially with something that encapsulated every fibre of his being and soul. His wife, though. He knew, she thought, felt different from time to time. It was something he refused to bring up, fearful of what exactly would boil to the surface.
[color=#c14700]“I think, perhaps, you just focus on gaining the genuine attention of one person and then take it from there.” [/color]He’d chuckle, bringing the glass to his lips for a deep sip. The Antivan relaxed some, as the fire’s heat began eating away at the Ferelden damp. Part of him wondered how the dwarves stomached it, especially when Orzammar had channels of viscous lava flowing through its very city.
While he felt Garryn was aabeing generous with his host country, it still felt to him that the Ferelden’s were stiffing the dwarven refugees. His brows shrugged, [color=#c14700]“Mmm. You do have good instincts, Ferelden is unsettled right now with this succession business. Perhaps tensions would ease. You know what the Ferelden’s are like with outsiders overstaying their welcome.”[/color] His eyes gave the young man a knowing look, one only had to look at history.
Garryn couldn’t really blame Ferelden, he often wondered what the Dwarves would have done if it had been the humans who had needed to find refuge in Orzammar. They had a history of being suspicious of outsiders, or rather surfacers. Would they have shuffled the surfacers off to some abandoned thaig, he honestly couldn’t say for sure. His father had been a progressive ruler sure, but there were still limits to what even he could do when he had to appease his people.
There were some dwarves who wanted to remain in Ferelden at any cost. Garryn felt like they were clinging to it, like maybe they weren’t in Orzammar any more, but they were still in Ferelden and leaving that would make it feel like they were putting the final nail in the coffin of ever returning home. Garryn smiled at the compliment about good instincts and nodded at Frankie’s words.
Orlais is as bad off as Ferelden right now, even if I thought the Orlesians would be more welcoming, which I highly doubt. The Anderfels already fell to the Blight, Nevarra’s fallen to the walking dead. Tevinter’s and the north is cut off to us entirely. I’d ask you, but with the Crows in your back yard and what they’ve done to Rivain. I have considered the Free Marches. They’ve taken Blight refugees before, and while they are dealing with the Crows, they aren’t on the same scale as Rivain. He said as he listed off kingdom after kingdom.
At the end of the day, he had to have a back up plan, and soon. They hadn’t had a back up plan when the Sixth Blight began, hadn’t expected to be overrun and that had made for a lot of chaos. No, Garryn couldn’t make the same mistake twice. He had to plan for the eventuality that Ferelden could be overrun and that his people weren’t safe there.
[color=#c14700]“I’m hurt that we aren’t first in that list, but,”[/color] brows shrugged, [color=#c14700]“you’re right on all counts.”[/color] About the only thing stable right now was the frequency of chaos taking a large shit on everyones doorsteps. It made one wonder if this was all part of a greater plan to bring them all to their knees in one short swoop, but he couldn’t afford the credit to one mind. No-one could account for every event to befall the various countries.
[color=#c14700]“I struggle to say this, but perhaps the Vints were on to something with this barrier business.”[/color] It was a joke of course, no-one knew or understood the reasons behind the impenetrable barrier cutting off the nation.
While Garryn mentioned the Marches, Frankie’s expression grew quietly impressed. [color=#c14700]“I’ll admit the Starkhaven lad is showing promise. Better than his predecessor and is doing well at actually uniting the city states. He would be a good ally if he drunk some.”[/color] He couldn’t stand a stanchly sober ruler. Sometimes it was the only way one could get through the days when decisions were daunting and cruel, taking their toll on the very soul.
[color=#c14700]“I will give you anything you wish, for that man to finally partake…. Maybe not only the booze too.”[/color] He’d heard the stories, both sides. It was a shame that he’d tempered himself so rigidly.
Garryn chuckled softly as Frankie’s comment about Antiva not having been top on the list he’d given. He hadn’t really thought about it when he listed. He’d started with Orlais since they were to the west and accessible by land. Whereas the Free Marches they would have to cross the Waking Sea, then he just sort of chose at random based on likelihood. Though he knew that Frankie didn’t really mean he was upset, but it still amused Garryn.
Then he nodded at Frankie’s comment about the Vints, there was nothing that Garryn wished more than that the dwarves could have put up some magical barrier so that the darkspawn couldn’t have overrun Orzammar, but alas, they hadn’t had the resources or the hindsight to do such a thing. He wasn’t even sure he could imagine what sort of magic such a thing would have taken, and the only mage they’d had at their disposal had been his step mother, Moira.
I guess there is one positive thing from them being closed off, the rest of Thedas hasn’t been plagued by their slavers Garryn had heard stories about them from Moira and even some from his father. As well as from Zoltan Chivay, a surface dwarf that had made himself invaluable since the Orzammar dwarves had taken to the surface.
Garryn listened intently as Frankie spoke about Starkhaven and their Prince, hanging on every word. He still remembered some lessons he’d learned about the state of Thedas before Orzammar fell, but that felt like another lifetime ago now, his father’s words dulled with every passing day that the boy went without him.
I mean, what does one even drink if not alcohol. Water? Milk? Tea? I would think that would all get old after awhile. I’ve never understood absolute abstinence, I mean I’d get not drinking to get drunk, that’s easy enough to do. He said with a shrug, but one thing was certain, they were both in agreement that the Free Marches may be Garryn’s best bet if they had to leave Ferelden, only he couldn’t afford to wait until the worst had happened before he reached out to Sebastian Vael.
Frankie enjoyed spending time with dwarves. They all had a unique perspective and not because of their lack of height. No. In many cases, they often saw things others didn’t and called it out. In comparison, the Vints were not often as trustworthy. They’d rather flatter and flaunt ancient magics and dazzle their neighbours before attempting a stab to the back. In some respects, they were so wholly predictable that Francesco paid them no real mind. Lesser men could deal with them.
Then the sneaky fuckers put up a barrier. The egg on all their faces, it was an embarrassment they had to bear while scrambling to deal with what else. Never trust a God damn Vint. They refused to share, even if it meant damning the rest of them. A lot could have been avoided if others had the knowledge to protect, even temporary, their key assets. Instead Orlais had been nearly overrun, the tide was turning, but things were still too changeable for the Antivan to hedge all bets on them all seeing it through.
[color=#c14700]“True, but then all they need to do is look to my Kingdom.”[/color] He wouldn’t shy away from the fact that Antiva had its own form of slavery. [color=#c14700]“One day,”[/color] he started, picking up his glass again to take a swig,[color=#c14700] “one day, there will be no Talon’s. Or, at the very least, they will be very, very different.” [/color]
Fortunately, Garryn helped shift the mood of melancholy to something more akin to stately gossip. Leaning on the arm, his head rested against the palm while the other tilted the glass back and forth. [color=#c14700]“No idea,”[/color] his brows shrugged, then steepled, realising something. [color=#c14700]“...Is that why I ended up with no pants last time? You.. stopped drinking and left.”[/color] He was shocked. Not really, he was a sensible lad and Frankie wasn’t the most well-behaved guest sometimes. Lifting his head, he’d wiggle his finger at Garryn,[color=#c14700] “Naughty, but it shows promise.” [/color]
