That's The Point
Cadhla was frustrated.
She had been in quite a festive spirit on her trip to Denerim. People were excited for the upcoming celebration in honor of All Hallow's Eve and that excitement had been contagious. Farmers had included pumpkins with their normal crops and everywhere she looked it seemed the countryside was dotted with bright orange orbs. That had all changed upon her return to court. Her husband had been increasingly secretive since her return from Vigil's Keep. She had resigned herself to nights falling asleep alone when they had married. He had many duties to attend to that kept him busy with Eamon and his other advisors, but this was different. He disappeared at odd hours and was decisively tight-lipped about his whereabouts.
Mornings that usually arrived to find the two of them entwined in their bed now greeted Cadhla alone. The first morning after her arrival she had been surprised and slightly dismayed to wake alone, but she put it off as a one-time incident. In the days to follow, dawn, which usually greeted her in the training yard while at the Vigil, washed over her still sleeping form stretched out in a bed that seemed too large for one person. She rolled over and instead of finding a warm body to snuggle up to she faced an open expanse of mattress.
"Andraste's flaming knickers!" she snapped on the fifth of such days.
Her grumbling continued through breakfast and a debriefing with a few of the wardens that had accompanied her to Denerim. The meeting was short; the majority of the kingdom was focused on the upcoming festivities. All Hallow's Eve had not been celebrated since Maric Theirin was king. After the Blight's devastation it had been decided that now was as good a time as any to resume the tradition.
"What's gotten your smalls in a wad this morning, your majesty?" Anders inquired as they wrapped up their few matters of business.
The blonde mage had become a close friend, though how he had worked himself into that position still flummoxed her, especially at times like these. Her icy glare didn't discourage him at all, if anything it only served to instigate him further.
"Well seeing as I saw goldilocks skipping in from the market this morning just after dawn I'd say it's because she didn't get to polish the ol' footstones, if you catch my drift," Oghren suggested with a grin.
"A dead man could catch your drift, dwarf," Anders replied dryly.
"At least a dead man could catch something," Oghren snorted. "The only thing you're gonna catch is a cold in them robes, sparkle fingers."
Cadhla rolled her eyes.
Never one to miss anything that could remotely resemble a party Anders and Oghren had both refused to stay behind. The two always seemed to be engaged in some sort of verbal duel that normally was amusing, but today did nothing to lighten her mood.
"I think that's everything. You all are free to do what you want; just try to stay out of trouble," Cadhla said, ignoring their banter.
"The masquerade ball is tomorrow night. What are you going to be, commander?" Anders asked.
"Present," she snapped, feeling about as un-festive as anyone possibly could.
"Oooh, touchy subject. Methinks perhaps the Commander is feeling a tad bit tense since she woke up alone this morning."
"Well you would know how it feels to wake up alone, wouldn't you?" she snapped. She felt a flash of guilt at the severity of her words, but the chorus of laughter from the rest of them told her they knew her better than the voice in her head told her they ought to.
"Sounds like I'm missing something good," a voice interjected from the doorway.
Alistair was leaning against the door frame. Dammit! Why does he have to look so sexy? Cadhla snapped to herself. It was hard to stay mad at him when just the sight of him sent little shivers of heat down her spine.
The other wardens quickly excused themselves. "I think this is our cue to leave," Anders said as they bid a hasty retreat.
Alistair watched them scuttle out of the warden's compound and then turned back to her with that lopsided grin that made her heart flip-flop plastered across his face.
"I thought perhaps my beautiful bride would like to join me for lunch," he suggested.
She crossed her arms over her chest, "Oh, so now you want to spend time with me?"
His grin turned sheepish as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around her. "I'm sorry, love, I really am," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "It'll be worth it. I promise."
Her silence told him she remained unconvinced. "Let me make it up to you?"
She leaned back against his hold and pouted like a child. She felt like a child, which irked her even more. "How?"
His lips brushed against her jaw, pressed against her lips, coaxing her into a smile and then a soft laugh. "It involves more of this, but in our bedroom behind a locked door," he whispered.
"Hmmm, I guess that might be okay."
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, "Just okay?"
She broke down and threaded her arms around his neck, "Fine, fine," she admitted. "Better than okay."
He was leaning in to press his lips to hers when a knock interrupted them. Cadhla pulled back with an exasperated sigh. Her husband's laugh followed her to the door. "Yes?" she inquired of the breathless maid who was waiting on the other side.
The woman seemed startled to see her. "Oh, Commander!" Why is she surprised? Cadhla asked herself. This is the warden compound. Who was she expecting to find?
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Actually, forgive me, I was looking for—Oh, your majesty!" She spotted Alistair and the fine blush that spread across her cheeks only served to reignite Cadhla's ire. "It is here," she said with a giggle like they were sharing a secret. Oh wait, they were! Cadhla growled to herself.
Cadhla glared at Alistair over her shoulder.
His eyes darted between his wife and the woman practically swooning in the doorway. "Uh, yes, thank you."
She curtsied and barely made it out the door before Cadhla slammed it behind her. "What was that about?" she asked.
Alistair waved his hand dismissively. "Oh nothing."
"It certainly didn't look like nothing."
He crossed to her and cupped her face in his hands, "Sweetheart, love, my goddess divine, I swear to you it's not what it seems. You'll understand soon enough and you'll love it, I swear."
Her eyebrow arched in suspicion and Alistair chuckled softly and kissed her. "I see the disbelief written on your face, but I promise it will be worth it."
Even with that ridiculously adorable grin plastered across his face she wasn't going to let him convince her so easily. Maybe over lunch he would be able to use some of that charm to win her over.
"And I'm sorry, but I have to take a rain-check on lunch. I wasn't expecting it so soon but I have a lot to do and little time before—" he cut himself off.
He leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek even as her mouth fell open in astonishment. Is this really happening?
His hands rested on her shoulders, "It will be worth it," he repeated. "And I'll see you for dinner. I promise."
He was out the door by the time her shock had faded enough to allow her to yell after him. "I'LL BELIEVE THAT WHEN I SEE IT!"
All Hallow's Eve dawned bright and crisp. An undercurrent of excitement hummed throughout the city and its inhabitants. Children were dressed in costumes and people took the day to forgo their chores in favor of carving pumpkins and handing out sweets.
Cadhla greeted the day with a stiff back and sore cheek. She had stubbornly refused to go up to their bedroom and had fallen asleep at her desk in the warden compound. She knew she was being overly dramatic and she didn't doubt his loyalty or intentions for a moment, but her frustration made her less than desirable qualities shine.
"There you are."
A plate of sliced ham, eggs and some bread was set in front of her. The head of the household staff was an older woman with a no-nonsense attitude but her and Cadhla got on well. The woman didn't hesitate to call her by her name, no titles needed. Cadhla liked that.
"Here I am, Mistress Soren," Cadhla groaned, arching her back to work out the kinks. "Thank you for the breakfast. It looks delicious."
"It is delicious," she replied without a hint of modesty. She smiled down at Cadhla and brushed a lock of hair off of her forehead. "I'll have a bath drawn up in your suites for once you're done and then we can make do the final fitting for your gown and mask for tonight's ball."
"I don't remember having a gown fitted for tonight, nor a mask requested," Cadhla replied tartly though truthfully she was grateful. She wouldn't miss the festivities and it wouldn't do to have the queen arrive in her dirty armor.
"Well you have been in a most un-festive mood, your majesty," she retorted, giving her a knowing look. "I measured the clothes you came in and the mask… well that was easy."
Cadhla had to admit, the gown was beautiful. The tight bodice made her look better than she thought was possible. From there the material hugged her waist before spilling out in waves of cream and crimson edged with gold thread. She was thankful that the gown wasn't the bright orange that many women had elected. The poofy skirts they donned reminded her of the pumpkins that had dotted the countryside. Those same orbs had now been carved and sat adorning doorsteps and roadways with tiny flames dancing and illuminating their freshly chiseled faces.
Taking a deep breath she prepared herself for the night ahead. She had been a teryn's daughter, but she still felt awkward during these royal events. Alistair was good at calming her nerves, but seeing as they hadn't spoken since the day before her nerves were anything but soothed.
It seemed as if the entire kingdom had come for the celebration. She could the excited murmur of ladies-in-waiting, the squeals of children dashing between adults who for once didn't seem bothered by their presence.
She was greeted warmly when she finally made her entrance, wondering where her husband could have gotten to. Children stared up at her with wide eyes until she bent down and asked what their costumes were. Then they would giggle and take her hand, confiding in her that they were actually princesses or griffons.
Awaiting her at the far end of the hall was her faithful hound, Loki. He was wearing a suit of armor tailored to him and though it was built to fit a dog she thought it looked oddly familiar.
"Is this Alistair's doing?" she asked as she knelt to stroke his head.
He barked and leapt about her causing the armor to flap against his sides. She knew what he wanted and after stealing a quick glance at the crowd around her she followed him. He led her back behind the throne to an adjoining room.
She watched him disappear into the darkness and whispered furiously for him to come out. The room was dark; all the lamps had been extinguished surrendering it to a velvety darkness that engulfed everything it touched.
Having survived an extended excursion into the deep roads she didn't feel at all uneasy about walking into a darkened room here in the palace. "Loki! If you don't come out right now—"
Movement interrupted her and she felt her hackles rise. Whatever had moved was too large to be Loki.
She let out an embarrassing shriek as a figure loomed out of the darkness. Archdemon!
Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her; she had killed the fiend some seasons before. Had she not been so terrified she might have noticed that where there had been scales with a metallic sheen was now leather and where pebbled skin had been was now textured fabric. As it were she was too busy cursing herself for not keeping at least a dagger at hand. She had a small knife tucked against her thigh, but it was buried beneath her billowing skirts and frustratingly inaccessible.
The beast's maw opened but instead of the roar that still haunted her dreams from time to time a far more pleasant sound emanated from between the razor sharp teeth. It gave her pause.
"Alistair?"
The mask lowered and her husband's grinning face emerged from behind it. "What do you think?"
She could have punched him. Or kissed him. What she couldn't do was speak.
"I made it myself—well, most of it. I needed help with sewing." That explained the run-in with the maid.
"So that was the reason…?" He nodded. She looked down at Loki who had reappeared at her side. "And his…?"
"It's fashioned after that armor I was wearing." That's why it looked familiar.
So this was why he'd been so secretive the past several days. He'd been making a blasted archdemon mask!
"What do you think?" he asked. "We have an archdemon—" he gestured to himself, "a lovable companion that assists the warrior to the very end—" he motioned to Loki, "And you. The beautiful hero, who slayed the archdemon and stole my heart."
She finally found her voice, "You're telling me this is why you've been so reclusive lately. I'm going to kill you!" she exclaimed, even though deep down she had to admit she was amused.
He grinned and replaced his mask. This time she didn't recoil when he leaned in towards her.
"Darling, that's the point."