She threw the covers off in a fit of annoyance, unable to sleep and growing more and more frustrated with every attempt she made.
At the end of her bed, undisturbed and snoring softly, her mabari hound Argor slept on, unaware of her difficulties and happily oblivious. His paws twitched every few seconds and once in a while the hound released a dozy howl. Chasing something, probably deer, in his sleep no doubt.
Had she been of a heartless nature, she might have woken him, so he too could share in her misery of being sleepless. But she wasn't, and she didn't. Though she did rub his head between his ears as she padded quietly passed him, her feet silent on the carpeted floor.
The reason for her trouble sleeping was the weather outside.
The howling wind forced the rain to thrash against the windows of her chamber. Smashing the glass as if each droplet were an iron hammer trying to break through. The thin drapes that covered each window did very little to hide the lightning when it struck. The thunder was just a roar as it rolled over Denerim Royal Palace.
She hated the thunder and the lightning, she had since she was a child.
In the Circle, when thunderstorms had come, she had always sought the sanctuary of the Sisters in the Circle's Chantry. They would humour her, be a distraction and let her stay with them until the storm was over and then take her back to bed.
As she got older, it became harder to go to the Sisters and instead she had found her solace in books. Spell books, tomes about history, the library in the Circle had become her safe haven.
And like before, the vast library of Denerim's Royal Palace became Isha Amell's sanctuary now.
Dressed in a simple cotton gown for sleeping, the heavier woollen robe she had thrown on protected her from the worst of the cold that the vast corridors and rooms created even when the fires were lit and burning, doing all they could to combat the chill.
Tying the robe tight around her waist, Isha closed the heavy oak door to the library quietly, making sure the 'click' sound it made was barely detectable. She didn't want to wake anyone else in the palace, and also didn't fancy being disturbed by one of the guards.
In her position she couldn't be removed from the library by force or be told off for it, she was the Chancellor. An advisor to the King, she had every right to be in the palace library and go where she pleased in the palace.
She was still a mage though, and some of the guards didn't trust that in her.
A mage out of the Circle, even one who was the Hero of Fereldan and had the King's trust, to some was still just a mage not to be trusted. Still an Apostate.
This mistrust and sidelong looks annoyed Isha constantly. She had grown used to them from the Templars in the Circle, and from years of them had learned to, for the most part, ignore the looks. It wasn't a personal slight against her, just against what she was.
Like now, at times where her frustration grew to great she would see solace and quiet in the palace library.
Isha loved the library. Adored it.
Even in the day it was silent and felt private. From here she couldn't hear the thunder, not really. And she only occasionally saw a brief flash of white from the small, high windows that adorned the walls.
The books in here ranged from the History of Ferelden, to the Chant of Light, the beginnings of Thedas. Books listing all the Kings and Queens from the earliest days of Ferelden history.
There were books about people, books about the beasts that once roamed the countryside, and those that continued to do so. Books about the plants, their uses, what they could be turned into with the right ingredients and teaching.
Each one was knowledge, and Isha ate it up with every new tome she found in the vast room. She knew she would never be able to read every book, not even if she lived to be one thousand years old, but just being surrounded by them, and being able to ingest everything they had to offer made her happy.
Settling down in one of the large chairs near the fire she had kindled with her magic with one book entitled: "First Enchanters of the Circle" Isha felt her earlier annoyance disappearing. She would read until natural tiredness took her, or until she was discovered. Which ever happened first.
Time passed on slowly. If ever the fire flickered or seemed close to going out, she would relight it with a brief twitch of her fingers so she could continue to read and stay warm.
The words on each page were long and indepth, retelling the lives and acheivements of each First Enchanter from each Circle throughout Thedas. Details of where each man or woman was born, when they had first gone to the Circle, their primary spells and specialist techniques were.
After some time Isha realised she could no longer hear the thunger and the lightning had stopped itself. Even the rain and stopped and it seemed as though the wind had died down as well.
She didn't know what time she had left her room to come here, only that it had been late. How long she had been sitting and reading was just as much a mystery. It must have been well past midnight now and coming into the early hours of the morning.
Servants would be rising soon.
Coming to extinguish fires, and light those in the rooms belonging to herself, the King and others who lived in the palace.
Argor would be worried, wondering where she was, if he was even awake now.
With a small sigh, Isha closed the her book softly so as not to damage it or disturb the dust sitting within the pages she hadn't reached yet. She replaced it back on the shelf it had come from and straightened the books around it - more to busy her fingers than anything else. She was distracting herself, trying to lengthen the time between now and falling asleep.
Asleep she would dream, and the dreams would turn to nightmares from which she struggled to awaken.
She had lost count of the times she had woken up in cold sweats, crying out for someone, or screaming for something to release her. Argor always fussed over her, he was always there to nuzzle her face and comfort her. When she was calm he would slump down across her, so she could rub his head and ears.
She found the mabari's weight a comfort, reminding her she wasn't alone.
The distance from the library to her chamber wasn't long, up two flights of steps and along three corridors, normally she could make it in no time, but she dawdled this evening.
The thought of returning to her chamber and sleeping was daunting. She was tired, that was true, but couldn't she honestly take any more of these disturbed nights. The visions she saw in her head were always harrowing and felt real, as if she were awake in the Fade itself.
Though as soon as she awoke the images faded and Isha could never recall what it was she had been dreaming about. Only how it filled her with dread, and frightened her to her core. The only terror she could compare it to was that of facing the Archdemon. Of hearing its voice in her head for the first time, during those first few awful dreams shortly after her Joining.
When she would seek comfort from others, not just her mabari hound.
Those days were gone now. Far behind her and it did not do to dwell on them.
Upon reaching her room, she found it just as she left it with a few minor changes.
Argor had moved, no longer lying across the foot of her bed, he lay on what was usually the vacant side of her bed, his head on the chest of the person lying there. Both of them snoring soundly, oblivious to the world and to herself.
What he was doing in her chamber she wasn't sure.
If he had needed to find her urgently he could have sent a messenger or a woken a servant to pull her from the covers. Somehow she doubted that was the reason he was lying there though. On the messy sheets, his hair a wild mess and his simple bed clothes - a white cotton shirt and loose britches - in just as much disarray.
The light was minimal, coming from the moon outside that shone now the clouds had parted.
Isha lit a few of the candles around her room, the closest being on her bedside table where she could better see the young man.
The young King.
The responsibilities he now had seemed to have barely had an effect on him. He was still handsome, his dark blonde hair a little longer. His beard, which had only been stubble when she first met him, was now a neat tuft of coarse golden hair.
Everything else about him was the same, the tanned skin, the straight nose and noble brow. Even those honey brown eyes, when they were open, were deep and could stare into her soul. Make her tremble and melt without trying.
Now, with nothing there, no fancy clothes or propriety she could pretend for a few seconds it was as things had been.
Trekking through Ferelden, uniting the different races in a noble cause. The two of them, the last known Grey Wardens in the Kingdom, relying on each other, learning from one another... falling in love with each other.
It felt like a lifetime ago, but somehow no length of time could dispose of her feelings. No matter how hard she tried to banish them, they remained.
They were there always. Beating in her heart reminding her of the man she loved, the man she wanted and could never have. Not now. Not now he was King and she was nothing but a low born mage.
Isha swallowed the grief she felt for herself and her feelings. Forced it down back into her belly, into the back of her mind where it belonged. A constant niggle, never to be admitted again.
She would forget. Either naturally or by teaching herself.
There was no other choice.
"Argor," she nudged the mabari speaking gently, "Argor, off. Come on."
The hound slowly opened his eyes. Upon seeing her, his tongue lolled out of his mouth and the tiny stump of a tail wagged - along with his whole back half.
Isha smiled.
No matter what, Argor always made her smile and was always pleased to see her. He was the best, most faithful companion and she knew how lost she would be without him.
"Off you get," Isha ushered him gently, "can't have you squashing the King."
With a half-hearted whined, Argor obeyed. He easily shuffled off Alistair and settled his head on his paws, returning to sleep almost instantly.
Isha turned her attention to Alistair. She could wake him gently or roughly, it really depended. She recalled what a terror he had been to wake for watches, so resorted to tweaking his hair and flicking his forehead with her fingers.
"Ow..." Alistair coughed himself awake, waving his hands to get rid of Isha's fingers and the annoying sensation she applied to his scalp. "That's punishable as treason you know. Striking your King."
"Didn't leave a mark. Can't prove it." Isha remarked moving away from the bed so Alistair could stand. "Besides you're in my chamber, on my bed. A strange man in my chamber and on my bed. You're lucky I didn't turn you into a ice sculpture."
"A 'strange man'." Alistair chuckled. He was sitting on the edge of her bed now, leaning over his knees. "Is that what I am now?"
"You could have been anyone." Shrugged Isha. She drew her robe tighter around her and moved across the room to the doors that led onto a small stone balcony outside. She opened one, letting the refreshing cool air fill her room and leaned on the door frame.
It was easier to speak to him without looking. Keep the distance. Make everything impersonal.
It hurt less.
"Are you alright?" Asked Alistair. She heard movement, the sound of feet over carpet.
"Fine." Isha replied. When he reached her, he leaned on the other door frame and looked down at her. "What are you doing here?"
"The thunder woke me." Explained Alistair. "I know you don't like it, I wanted to make sure you were alright. But you weren't here. I decided to wait and I suppose I fell asleep."
"That's sweet." Isha murmured with a small smile, "thank you. But I'm fine."
"Where were you?"
"Library. Only place I can go when there's a storm."
Alistair breathed in the air in deeply, "you could come to me."
For a moment Isha just stared at him, wondering if he realised what he had just said. Alistair looked back at her, his eyes open and kind, his expression the same. A touch of vulnerability there too. "No, I couldn't." She shook her head.
The hurt was just a flicker across his face, nothing really. Something he schooled perfectly and without hesitation. Something he's had to learn to do when dealing with situations in court and regular audiences with his subjects. Still, it was there long enough for Isha to see, and for her to start wishing the ground could have swallowed her up there and then.
"No, you're right." Alistair said, laughing a little, "how stupid of me. Sorry, don't know where that came from."
"It's alright." Replied Isha with a weak smile, "no harm done."
For some time they stood there. Silence between them the only sound filling it being that of Argor's whines and sleepy barks and their own breathing. Neither one wanting to begin talking for fear of being unable to stop. But neither wanting to leave or ask the other to leave.
Moments like this were too rare now. Just the two of them, standing - even being in a close vicinity without others around was a moment almost impossible to grasp now. Every time they would find themselves alone, a servant or guard would interrupt. Now they had each other and all the time until dawn to speak and neither of them would.
Isha crossed the threshold of the door, walking in bare feet on the cold stone of her balcony. The rain cool on her feet but welcoming. Leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the balcony she looked down.
Her room overlooked the gardens, and from here the scent of the herb and rose gardens were best. After a rain the scents were always at their strongest. She could smell lavender and rosemary, mint and thyme all entwined together. A wonderful mix and something that for now seemed specifically for her.
"Did you read anything good?" Alistair asked, crossing towards her and leaning on the stone beside her.
"A book about the First Enchanters." Answered Isha breezily, "just something to pass the time until the storm stopped."
"Do you think about the Circle much?"
She shook her head, loose tendrils of black hair floating about her face. "Not really. I couldn't go back. Not now. Not after everything..." She sighed softly, drawing her fingers back through her hair and pulling it over one shoulder. "It was as much a prison as the palace is now."
"You feel the palace is a prison?" Alistair asked, his tone surprised. His eyes were wide, and his mouth open a little, as if aghast to know this. "Why? Are the guards unkind to you? Or-or-"
"You know why." Sighed Isha, facing him with a sad smile. "It's difficult to be near someone and be unable to do... anything. To have to bottle up your feelings."
The same small, wistful smile spread to Alistair's lips, "I know." He shifted towards her so their arms touched. When Isha didn't move or flinch, Alistair reached around with one arm, his hand laying at her waist comfortably. "It was nice, you know."
"What was?" Asked Isha. Unbidden she tucked her head beneath Alistair's chin. Safe, protected, familiar. His scent, his body, his arms. The strength of his arms which held her up when she could feel her knees about to give way.
"Sleeping there on your bed. Surrounded by your things, the smell of you." She could hear the smile in his voice, "it reminded me of the past. When things were so much less complicated, and we could be... us."
"But that's the thing," Isha explained leaning back in his arms to look at him squarely, "it is the past. A dream. We have to accept that that was what it was, a dream."
"I miss you." Admitted Alistair, the words rolling off his tongue before he could stop them. He looked surprised at himself at the admission but didn't say anything afterwards. No attempts to take it back or apologise. Just looked down at her with those eyes.
"I'm right here." Isha replied, though she knew what he meant. She wanted to avoid getting any deeper into the conversation.
"No," Alistair insisted, "I miss you. I miss having you with me. You body with mine... waking up with you."
"It's a dream." Isha returned, her tone becoming slighter harder. "Alistair, a dream. You and I... we both need to wake up from it."
"Why?"
"Because it's impossible." She replied firmly. "You're the King of Ferelden. I'm low born and more than that, I'm a mage."
"I don't care." Alistair shook his head stubbornly.
"You should." Retorted Isha, "stop being a child." She added, "the Chantry would care, your subjects, the Landsmeet. Everyone else would care. Your country would turn on you in an instant."
His brows were furrowed as he frowned at her.
"Not to mention you need someone who can produce an heir." Isha choked on a word and swallowed. She touched his face with her fingers, drawing them across his cheek and jaw. "I could never give you children."
"You don't know that." He all but whispered in return, his eyes closed as he felt only Isha's ministrations to his face. "It's difficult... not impossible."
"Be that as it may," Sighed Isha, "we cannot do this."
"Tell me you don't love me." Alistair challenged her suddenly. He stared at her hard, "look me in the eye and tell me. I'll leave you alone, never bring any of this up again and we'll go on as King and Chancellor. We'll never bring up the past. Just tell me that. Tell me you don't love me anymore as I still love you."
"I..." Isha returned his gaze weakly. She wanted to tell him. She urged every fibre of her being to tell him. To lie. But the words wouldn't come. They caught in her throat like a sickness that she had to swallow down. She couldn't do it, injure his heart the way hers was. But at the same time what good did it do either of them, to know they loved each other. They were still divided, kept apart by politics, but station and birth. "You know I can't do that." She answered eventually, her eyes turning downwards.
"Isha," Alistair spoke her name firmly and she lifted her head.
His lips were soft and warm against hers. Familiar, comforting and she couldn't not reciprocate, slipping her hands across his shoulders, into his hair to draw him closer. His arms tightened around her waist and he practically lifted her off the ground. Everything was there, hunger, desire, a longing thirst they had held on to for each other and only been able to quench at times like these. Stolen moments, rare and precious.
When she pulled away, it was only a little and she could still feel his breath landing against her mouth as he lay his temple against hers.
"This has to stop..." Isha murmured, flattening her hands against his shoulders. She spoke to the floor as she stared at it. "Alistair... it hurts too much."
"Being with you is the only time it stops." He replied.
He shifted towards her, urging for another kiss and it took all of Isha's will power to refuse, to shift her head away and make it impossible for their lips to meet.
She felt him drawing away, becoming distant as his hands and arms left her waist and she could no longer feel his breath on her lips.
The cold surrounded her and she drew her arms around her body to fend it off. She shook for reasons she could not fathom and had to breathe fast to stop the tears that threatened to fill her eyes from doing so.
"I'm sorry," Alistair drew a hand across her cheek, that small, sad smile on his mouth again.
"I wish things could be different for us." Isha said, her voice quaking on every syllable.
"Maybe they will." He kissed her forehead and left the room without another word.
Isha just about managed to close the balcony doors and cross to her bed before the strength in her body gave way and the sobs began. Gut wrenching sobs that ached to her core. She smothered the noise with a pillow, letting the fabric soak up her tears at the same time.
Argor lay his head in her lap and licked her fingers gently as she cried, a comforting weight and warmth that she curled up with when the crying exhausted her enough.
Morning would come soon, and with it the dawn which would wash away the night and all that had transpired. In a few hours it would be as if nothing had happened.
The Ferelden council was held several times during the course of a month. A gathering of the King, advisors and the Grand Cleric who would be present for the meetings. It was a chance for issues to be brought to the table, anything from crops to crime, disputes between freeholders and also the organisation of events throughout Ferelden, like tours the King would make yearly throughout the country to greet his subjects, festivals, Feastdays and Name Days for people of importance.
Isha was always required to attend, as the King's personal Chancellor and as the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden. She made a habit of always being early, arriving before anyone else so they couldn't stop their conversations and stare at her distrustfully as she had noticed them doing. She had learned to ignore it, apparently stopping the Blight meant very little when you were a mage.
Argor always accompanied her and sat beside her chair with a bone, a form of moral support.
The advisors were all be people nominated by different members of the Landsmeet. People from their own lands usually on their own councils, who reported to the King of details for each area and spoke the voice of their Bann, Arl or Teyrn. And the Grand Cleric gave the opinion of the Chantry, whether it was asked for or not.
The meetings were often long and involved a lot of discussion, talking over one another and arguments would often arise from disagreeing lands, but they were necessary and something that Calian had never taken entirely seriously. He had normally left it to Anora to deal with.
Alistair was the opposite. While he didn't always enjoy the council meetings, he always took them seriously and was fair in his responses and judgement. Eighteen months on from his coronation he was a different man in the meetings to how he had been at the first few he had attended.
He had grown more sure of himself, and better at making himself heard over the din of disagreement. He used his Templar training to stay focused and calm in difficult situations and his natural good nature and humour to dissipate tension.
He was a natural, though he still often found himself doubting his knowledge and leadership.
The different advisors from each location filed into the council room after breakfast. They each had their own seats to take, next to one another each land location beside its neighbour, so Ser Percival from Rainsfere would sit beside Ser Edward of River Dane and so on.
The council table was long, hard wood, the edges of it decorated with intricate carvings of dragons and dogs, trees and flowers along it. The King sat on one side with Isha beside him on the right, and the Grand Cleric to his left. The advisors from each land sat around on the opposite side and at the ends of the table.
The chamber these meetings took place in was one of the larger rooms in the palace. Hard stone floors and walls, decorated with intricately designed tapestries. Long windows which went almost from the floor to the ceiling allowed sunlight to stream through illuminating the room in different colours from the stained glass.
As far as rooms for official business went, it could have been much worse.
Alistair arrived last to the meeting as he usually did, and everyone who had congregated rose from their chairs to greet him, and sat down only once he was sitting in his larger, more decorative chair.
"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully. To Isha it seemed as if the night before hadn't happened. He didn't look tired or like he had struggled to sleep. Maybe it was just her who had difficulty. "What's on the agenda today?"
"Here," Isha slipped a piece of parchment across the table to him which listed the different issues everyone had come with.
Alistair glanced down the information in front of him, nodded to himself and lay it flat on the table. Looking across the different faces peering at him, he templed his fingers, leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Ser Darcy of West Hill," he found her, one of the few women on the council. Older, perhaps in her forties with dark brown hair which was slowly showing her age. She was slim, tall, not someone naturally built for combat but who was agile and quick and as good with a blade as anyone else. She stood up when she was addressed, "you have the floor."
And the council began.
The issues were similar to what they usually were. Difficulty with harvests and crops failing in certain locations, so food was being requested from neighbouring lands. Those lands didn't want to give their own crops because it would leave the people struggling for the winter, even after they had worked hard to get the crops to grow and harvest them in good time.
Talks about apostate mages appearing in White River caused some unrest in the council and the Grand Cleric was quick to declare she would request a number of Templars to be dispatched from Denerim in order to deal with the problem and the threat.
A group of Chasind had made themselves known in the Southern Bannorn, coming from the wilds and ransacking village after village, leaving death and devastation in their wake. Requests for assistance had been sent to nearby Banns and Arls who had ignored the pleas and send to aid. Leaving it up to Alistair to order the advisors of those in power to send aid to deal with the problem.
"It seems strange though that the Chasind are being so bold." He remarked, drawing his fingers across his beard, "they prefer to keep to the wilds and away from villages, and it's unusual for them to be attacking, especially if it is unprovoked."
"The few we've managed to capture on these attacks," explained Ser Mathias, "have given us no indication of why they are attacking. They have spoken little except to shout insults and profanities at us, and have all died in our prisons."
"Why?" Inquired Alistair, his face hardening a little.
"They refuse to eat. They would rather starve themselves to death than save themselves and tell us their reasons and also where their tribes are located." Said Ser Mathias, shaking his head slowly.
A murmur went around the table.
"Has anyone else experienced these attacks from Chasind tribes?" Alistair asked, looking at the different people around him slowly. There were no answers, no confirmations. "Chancellor Amell," he turned to Isha, "have we had any reports from villagers about these attacks?"
"No, Your Majesty." Isha replied curtly, "it seems the incidents are isolated to the Southern Bannorn. It would be my suggest-"
"No one needs to hear your council, mage." Uttered Grand Cleric Deanna harshly. "Leave those words to your betters."
"Grand Cleric," Alistair injected calmly with a tone of warning, "may I remind you Chancellor Amell is the Hero of Ferelden, and the Grey Warden Commander, she is no mere mage and not an apostate. You will treat her with the respect her station demands." His tone was harsh, but cool as he addressed not only the Grand Cleric but the others around the table.
Isha shrank in her seat, reaching down to stroke Argor for comfort.
Beneath the table Alistair grabbed her wandering hand as it searched for the mabari and squeezed gently. Isha felt her cheeks flush and hoped no one else in the room noticed.
"I... apologise, Your Majesty." Murmured the Grand Cleric, "and my apologies to you, Chancellor Amell..." her words seemed more forced when she spoke to Isha, but it was the best Isha would get so she accepted it gracefully.
"You were saying, Chancellor?" Ser Mathias looked at her warmly, his dark hazel eyes kind. He was one of the youngest advisors, barely over twenty but he was eager and Isha knew he had a good head on his shoulders.
"My suggestion was to send a small emissary group into the Wilds," explained Isha slowly, "led perhaps by someone the Chasind know or have dealt with before. Their unrest may be more deeply seated than we realise. After all, villagers have been wandering further afield to find their own lands for farming and building. The Chasind are probably being forced into smaller and smaller areas of the wilds forcing tribes to fight for space."
"Meaning their attacks on villages is their way of trying to get their own lands back." Alistair prompted.
Isha nodded, "exactly."
"It's certainly a theory." Ser Mathias agreed. "We've not dealt with the Chasind before in the Southern Bannorn, not really. But I will go back to Bann Ceorlic and advise him of what you have said."
"That seems to be the last item on the agenda." Alistair said slowly, looking down the list of topics they had dealt with. During the meeting the sun had moved slowly across the room making it warm and a little stuffy. Judging by its height it was some time after noon. "Unless there is anything more to talk about; I would like to make an announcement."
"Your Majesty," the Grand Cleric spoke up when the others around the table stayed silent.
"Grand Cleric Deanna?" Alistair looked at her kindly, an middle-aged woman to whom the years had not been kind. She had a very severe face, an expression that always seemed to have her sneering. She was knowledgeable and respected, but had very little time for others which did not make her a popular woman except in the Chantry.
"I have received word from Grand Cleric Gwenda in Nevarra." She explained, looking over a long piece of parchment covered in ornate words in black ink. "She has asked that you come to Nevarra."
Alistair's brows furrowed, "does she say why?"
"No, Your Majesty. Only that she wishes you to come soon."
"That sounds..." Alistair murmured.
"Ominous." Isha said. Alistair looked at her. "Requesting your presence without giving a reason. Communications between Nevarra and Ferelden have been... tense at best. I would suggest finding out the reason to why she's asking you to come."
"I agree." Nodded Alistair.
"You doubt the intentions of a Grand Cleric?" Deanna asked, her voice strained. "I... understand the request is of an unusual tone, but what danger could there be from a Grand Cleric's request."
"Depends if it's the Grand Cleric, or the Grand Cleric under the guise of another." Alistair replied easily, "the Pentaghast family are struggling at the moment are they not? And as far as I am aware the Chantry in Nevarra have a strong military force."
"Yes... Your Majesty." Deanna confirmed with a slow nod of her head.
"There could be all manner of reasons to why she is requesting I visit. Her request may be totally valid and completely innocent, but I am erring on the side of caution given the state of things in Nevarra at the moment." Alistair remarked, "write back to her, explain I would be happy to visit if she explained the reason for the request."
Deanna slipped her hand over the parchment, "I will do this, Your Majesty. And I will let you know as soon as I receive a reply."
"Thank you, Grand Cleric Deanna." Alistair smiled. He stood up and stretched for a moment. "Now, if that is all the business concluded for the day, as I was saying before I have an announcement."
The men and women around him were silent as they waited for him to speak. The main business of the day was over, and this announcement Alistair intended to make made Isha nervous; it was unlike him to make surprise announcements in council without running the past her first. This was something he had decided on his own and that was a cause for concern.
As if he could sense it, Argor lay his head on her lap, and Isha immediately began to ran her hands across his head and over his ears.
"I know that many of you have been speaking to me with regards to the concerns your Banns and Arls have mentioned that I have yet to take a wife and produce an heir." Alistair began.
Something caught in Isha's throat and she swallowed hard, keeping her eyes down, focused on the carvings on the table.
"It's not that I have no desire to take a wife, I do; I have unfortunately been struggling with whom would be the best suited. Many of your peers have presented me with their daughters, all of noble birth and fine countenance who would make fine wives and perfect mothers, I am sure." He paused, running his hand across his beard.
Isha heard in his voice he seemed to be hesitating and all she wanted to do was give his hand a comforting touch as he had done to her. To spur him on. He was making a decision which was best for himself and for his people; her personal feelings could not come into it.
Still, her heart thundered against her rib cage, this would hurt when he finally said the name of the woman he intended to make Queen of Ferelden, but she wouldn't allow herself any show of emotion. She couldn't.
"I have thought for some time about my choices. My... decision. What is best for my people as King, after all it is they who are most important. And it is thinking of them that I have made my decision. What better way to urge Ferelden and its people into a new age after the Blight than by creating a union between the forces that ended it."
Murmurs started, words being said from one mouth to another as it dawned on some of them who Alistair meant.
Isha had drowned out all other noise except Alistair's voice, which she could barely hear over the blood rushing around in her ears.
"It is my choice to take the Hero of Ferelden, Isha Amell as my wife," Alistair turned his eyes towards her, warm, familiar... hopeful. "If she'll have me."
She could feel her mouth hanging open. The picture of elegance and refinement. She was glad she was sitting down. All the blood rushed from her head and pooled somewhere in her feet.
The murmurs erupted into shouts and the voice of the Grand Cleric was loudest of them all.
"You cannot marry a mage, Your Majesty! It is not done. She is nothing more than an apostate! She is not a candidate for marriage into the royal family!" Deanna shouted, her words harsh as she spat them.
"She's a Grey Warden too!" One of the advisors added. "She can't bear children! The Theirin bloodline will end with you!"
"She's not of Noble birth!" Another voice rose over the others.
More joined in.
"You have better choices!"
"Have her as your mistress, Your Majesty!"
"You cannot marry someone of low birth, let alone a mage!"
Alistair stood in his place taking all the words with a stern expression and his eyes narrowed. His arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the rising cacophony.
When Argor started barking, only adding to the noise it snapped Isha out of her stupor. Her throat had gone dry and she couldn't get her mind straight over the few thoughts bombarding her head.
Alistair wanted to marry her. He had announced it to his the council of advisors who would report back to the Banns and Arls they served. There would be uproar. All the effort they had made to end the Blight and ensure he was put on the throne would be wasted all because of this one thing.
Isha stood suddenly, the chair she sat on falling over as she rose so quick.
Silence fell over the room, all eyes turning to her as they expected her to say something.
Bile rose in her throat, a sick feeling churning her stomach as she tried to ignore it and swallowed it down. Her green eyes landed on Alistair, alarmed and terrified.
"Alistair-"
"Do not address the King so informally!" Shouted the Grand Cleric. "Remember your place!"
Isha trembled from head to foot. She could barely stand straight as she pushed away from the table shaking her head. "I'm sorry," her voice shook, "excuse me."
Hands covering her face, Isha raced out of the council room, letting the door slam behind her. Argor followed quick on her heels and climbed onto the bed with her when they reached her chamber.
She couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't focus. Her eyes were watering and the feeling of terror was only amplified in her mind. People would want her blood for this. They would assume she had somehow bewitched him.
Of course she wanted to marry Alistair. She had wanted to since they had first confessed their feelings for each other, but that was before she had known he was the King. Before the politics entered into it.
They had tried to stay away from each other. Tried to bury their feelings and concentrate on their tasks at hand; but it had been difficult. So difficult and the only way either of them had survived the past eighteen months was with Alistair not taking a wife from the dozens of women paraded to him, and their stealing of moments together like the night before.
Isha had wanted to leave. To go to elsewhere, anywhere, somewhere that would take her away from him so that her feelings could have a chance to die.
She had done it too. Amaranthine as Warden Commander. But it hadn't helped. If anything it had made matters worse, she had missed him all the more and seeing him again on her return, everything was reignited and burned hotter than ever before.
What was he thinking!?
It didn't seem to matter to him the implications. That he would lose everything. The crown, the love of the people of Ferelden, the trust of the Landsmeet. He couldn't do it, he couldn't throw it all away, not for her. She couldn't allow him. No matter how head strong or stubborn he was going to be, there were more important things that he needed to focus on now than her, than their love which had been.
Calming, Isha ran her hand across Argor's head, smoothing her fingers across his ears. Argor whined a little, and nudged Isha's arm with his nose.
"It's not fair." Isha murmured into the canopy of her bed. "I never wanted any of this."
The mabari licked her hand, shuffling closer and laying his head on her stomach.
"Why did this happen to me? The Blight... Alistair... everything. Why couldn't things have been simpler." She sighed and rolled over to sit up. "Maybe they should have made me Tranquil."
Despite the windows and doors in her room being open, she felt like she was being smothered being in there. As if the walls were closing in and she couldn't breathe properly. Pulling her hair from it's neat bun, Isha drew her hands through it and sighed.
"I need some air." She stood and walked towards the armoire where she kept her clothes. Opening it, she found the things she needed, a loose cotton shirt and some soft leather britches. Riding boots and a thicker leather coat to go over her shirt. "Argor."
To his name the mabari lifted his head. He barked, recognising the clothing and pulled himself off Isha's bed eagerly.
Isha felt the same eagerness, more to leave the palace she found a prison and never come back.
