The truth is

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.

“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.”

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.