Ves walked back into Orzammar with the intent to kill Bhelen in her mind’s eye. All her analysis-focused mind was forsaken for this one deep desire, to end her family’s line, to ensure Trian’s death left as brutal and sad a wound on the Aeducans as it should. And upon hearing of her father’s death from the doorguard, she was not dissuaded from that course.
She thought ‘ah, Bhelen must have killed him’, ignoring the senselessness of that and plowing through heedlessly. And yet she could not wholley stifle her political head. Harrowmont’s position was tenuous. She heard the calls that Endrin had begged Pyral to not allow Bhelen on the throne and it catches at the edges of her suspicion. It does not sound like something her father would do. She remembers the letter Gorim had given her and how Pyral had to have handled it, sent it her way. She knows what being used feels like.
But still, she ignores it, she rebuffs Bhelen’s man within the assembly and marches outside with every intent to find Harrowmont’s messenger and begin the business of deshyr engagement. And the man finds her at the door too! Harrowmont’s fighters have been dissuaded from taking part in the proving, win it for us!
And she would have ignored the niggle of worry that that offered her, if Zevran hadn’t been there. ‘What kind of leader cannot keep his men in line? Why should we support this Harrowmont if he is so weak?’ He asked, and as Ves turned to him to use her silver tongue and convince him of their course, she found the will to do so dying like a lump of lead in her chest. He was right, she was thinking too much as Princess Vesanin Aeducan, that was no longer her title, nor her name. Whatever Orzammar’s needs, whatever her own personal wants, the Blight demanded stronger and more brazen leadership than this.
And in a moment, all her misgivings came tumbling back. Endrin Aeducan did not die of grief and Bhelen knew better than to force the succession debates before his supporters had rallied. Pyral, however, had every reason to send Endrin off to the stone early, capitalise upon his appearance of grief and use Endrin’s trust to position himself for the throne.
But still, it stuck in her craw, the idea of helping Bhelen now. It ground down at her, it made her sick. The choices seemed to be equally horrific to her mind, an insulting choice between serving her order or serving her ancestors and the stone. This, she realised, could be easily solved. And as she entered the provings on her own time, she prayed that she be struck down if the Ancestors saw her duty to the blight as an unforgivable slight. If supporting Bhelen was wrong, then let the Stone curse her blade and weaken her arm.
It did not, and the Ves that walked out of the Provings as it’s champion was mollified to her decision.
