Note: This follows on chronologically from "Trying not to fall into the sky" as well as some of my comics and art but is designed to work as a standalone story.
Martya glowered at the world in general and took another swig of her beer. "You know, life was so much easier when I only dated women." She sighed and leaned against Velanna's side, wobbling a little on the extra tall stool she'd had made. "Have I ever told you I like your robes?" she asked, her head wavering unsteadily above Velanna's chest. "No, and I'd rather you didn't." said Velanna, shifting herself firmly to the side. She moved Martya's unstable form to the table they were sitting at, upon which she flopped heavily with a thud.
After staring sadly at the alcohol splotched wood for a while Martya lifted her head and addressed her tankard in tones of regret. "And I tried, I really did. First there was Morrigan, And she was…she had good robes too. But she didn't like women. Didn't like anyone really." She frowned "Though she was happy enough to…Anyway, and then there was Leliana, things started out ok but she was all coy and feminine and I couldn't take it any more."
Oghren laughed. "That was sodding hilarious. You were all 'Oh yes Leliana, I love shoes. Here, let me get you some pretty flowers and we can talk about dresses and be girly!'. And it didn't even get you anywhere!"
"Shut up, Oghren," said Martya. Why was she stuck drinking with him again? Oh that's right, because Alistair WASN'T HERE and Anders and Nathaniel were busy playing darts. She missed Sigrun, but she wouldn't be back from her latest "very important task that means it's impossible for you to go the Deep Roads just yet" for weeks. Martya sighed. "And then there was Alistair. And I didn't even like him to start with, but he was all sweet and adorable with this rose and the…and then when I finally get him, and I'm thinking "You know, maybe this whole human boyfriend thing isn't so bad" he gets all pissy when I try and talk about where our relationship is going, because suddenly he remembered I'm a dwarf and he might get to be King. Even when I made sure that wouldn't happen!"
"Wait," said Velanna, "Are you telling me you put that murderous elf hater on the throne so you could keep your boyfriend?"
Ack. This was why Martya didn't like drinking around sober people, they paid way too much attention to what you were saying. She wasn't done complaining! Martya pulled herself up on her elbows. "Yes, that's exactly why I did it. Just like how I chose Harrowmont because I wanted my sister to hate me and for my nephew's House to be destroyed." She waved her finger unsteadily up at the taller woman's face, which was looking kind of fuzzy. "Trust me, I know Anora is a bit…narrow-minded, but Alistair is a total pushover, he'd make a terrible King. I thought about it very seriously and I resent the…the implication that I wouldn't choose the best person for the job."
"So why did you choose Harrowmont again?" asked Oghren. "Aaaaaaaah." said Martya waving him away "I don't know, he seemed nice! I'm no good at all this politics stuff, ok?" This was depressing, she needed more beer.
Alistair wouldn't have minded a beer. He wouldn't have even minded dwarven ale, anything to cut the chill of the winter's night seeping into his bones. As he trudged through the rain and mud on the long road to Vigil's Keep he motivated himself by imagining the welcome he'd get when he arrived. It had been a noble estate, so there were probably big comfortable beds and lots of servants to make a warm bath and maybe cook him a hot dinner. And he'd be with Grey Wardens again, not just two of them but a whole garrison! Not that he'd entirely minded when it had just been him and Martya. It had given them something to bond over after all. As he introduced himself to the guards and was led inside the Keep he thought about how good it would be to see her again. It had been very lonely in Weisshaupt, especially since he didn't really speak the language and issues with the mail meant he hadn't been able to communicate much with anyone back home. None of the locals had laughed at his jokes, and he'd found himself sighing in nostalgia every time he saw a dwarf with brown hair or a girl in a knife fight. And then his return had been delayed by bad weather for months. Martya must have been so worried! He'd certainly been worried about her, especially when he'd arrived in Ferelden and heard vague contradictory stories about Amaranthine being attacked by darkspawn. The farmer who'd given him a lift from the port to near the Keep had gotten very ebullient when Alistair had said he knew Martya, and while it was heartwarming to hear him breathlessly enthuse about how his sister's cousin had actually fought by her side in the defense of the city, Alistair felt wretched knowing that she'd been in so much danger and he hadn't been there to help.
"Do you think the Warden Commander would still be awake?" he asked the maid leading him to the guest quarters. "How has she been? Have the Orlesians been giving her any trouble?"
"Uh…the Orlseians?" she answered. "Aren't they all dea…"
"Wait." said Alistair. From further down the corridor he could hear a familiar voice singing a somewhat dirty dwarven ballad in a cracked soprano. It was her! His heart swelled with affection, and he was reminded of the last time he'd heard that song, the two of them celebrating the end of the Blight with a bottle of ale and some stolen cheese in an out-of-the-way corner of the Palace.
Martya's singing trailed off. To some unseen companion she said "Thankyou for taking me back to my room. I can't believe the rest of them all fell asleep already, what a bunch of pikers."
"That's quite alright, Warden Commander," replied an unfamiliar voice. He sounded Ferelden. And noble. And male. Alistair rounded the corner and was confronted with the sight of his beloved being carried in the arms of a disturbingly pretty man in leather.
Martya leaned her head against the stranger's shoulder. "Your hair smells nice." she said. "And it's very shiny." Before Alistair could say anything the man noticed him and said sharply "Who is this? Why has he been let into the Keep at this late hour?" His arms tightened protectively around Martya.
"I…" Martya twisted around to see.
"ALISTAIR!" she shouted, pulling herself free and landing rather heavily on the ground. "Whoa." she said, her eyes unfocused. "Spinny."
"You're drunk." Alistair said in surprise.
"Well you're LATE." she replied peevishly, dusting herself off and leaning against the wall. She glowered at him for a moment then gave up the war with gravity and collapsed ungracefully onto the floor, where she promptly fell asleep.
"Ah, I take it you are the Grey Warden Alistair. I apologise for my overcaution," said the long haired pretty-boy with irritating politeness. "I suppose I should introduce myself."
"Nathaniel Howe?" shouted Alistair the next morning, once Martya had finally dragged herself out of bed. "I arrive to find you canoodling drunk in corridors with some strange man and it's Nathaniel Howe? Son of Rendon Howe? The man who murdered and tortured his way to the top of Loghain's regime, and tried on several occasions to murder you? And I'm expected to trust this Nathaniel not to try to avenge his father's death and steal back his family home? I'm surprised he hasn't made an attempt already!"
Martya winced. "Could you not be so loud? And Nathaniel's totally trustworthy. We had some…misunderstandings in the beginning but he'd never try anything like that again."
"AGAIN? Maker's breath, it's like Zevran all over again!"
Martya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you said he'd turn on me again and he did. He really wasn't a bad guy, though. He had a very difficult childhood."
"And did Nathaniel have a difficult childhood? Did his father not buy him a pony for his birthday? Or maybe he threw a big party to murder some peasants and Nathaniel didn't get invited?"
Martya snorted. "Something like that. Nathaniel does have an annoying tendency to think being forced to get a fancy foreign education counts as intolerable hardship. But his father really was an arse. Anyway, I say he's trustworthy and you're going to just have to trust my judgement. I do outrank you, you know."
Alistair gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine, fine. Just don't coming running to me for sympathy when you're horribly murdered in your sleep."
"And I don't know what you're angry at me for." continued Martya. "Where in the world have you been for the last few months? I sent you like five letters and got no response, meanwhile I'm having to deal with talking darkspawn and rebellions and being a frigging arlessa. And I'm there thinking maybe you've died or something but then Mistress Woolsley gets a message that oh no, they're quite happy with you in Weisshaupt, very helpful to their inquiries you've been. Well I could have used some of your help too when I was left as the only Grey Warden in the whole sun-blighted country!"
Alistair stared at her slack-mouthed. "I…you…the only Grey Warden? What happened to all the Orlesians? I heard there'd been attacks, but… And talking darkspawn? I assumed you were just too busy to write to me, or your letters had been lost in all these recent storms. I never imagined…are you alright? What happened?"
Martya's glower softened. She blinked slowly as she took in his words and then her lower lip trembled and she stifled a sniffle. "They all died," she said in a small voice. "It was my job to look after them and they died.
He took her in his arms and she rested her head against his chest. "I missed you." she said sadly. Alistair kissed the top of her head. "I missed you too." he said.
It was only as Alistair watched Martya sort paperwork and delegate to various underlings that it really struck him: she was an arlessa. It was clear from the way she asked questions and how the various nobles and sub-commanders deferred to her judgement that she had settled effectively into her new position of power, it was both strange and kind of sexy. That and she was wearing a dress, the lush fabric and complicated embroidery in keeping with the large expensive looking desk she sat behind and the richly furnished study it was situated in. After a breakfast in Martya's rooms mostly spent with her talking up how nice and helpful and non-homicidal Nathaniel had been she'd taken Alistair for a tour of the Keep, giving him a brief rundown of all the things that had happened while he'd been gone as they went. Talking darkspawn! Dead bodies walking around controlled by spirits! He had trouble getting his head around it all. And the Keep was huge, it even had it's own collection of merchants, not to mention a bunch of fascinating sounding old catacombs that Martya had promised to show him around later. But for the last hour or two she'd been busy with the business of running Amaranthine and Alistair had had nothing to do but sit around feeling useless.
On the plus side, this had given him a chance to see for himself just how helpful Nathaniel was. He had a seat right near Martya's desk, and was constantly leaning over to offer some opinion or…something in her ear. A few times Martya sent him off to talk to various petitioners by himself, and it was during one such discussion as the line of visitors trailed off for the day that Martya got up from her desk to see how Alistair was doing. "I hope you're not too bored." she said "There's no need for you to hang around watching me work, you should go get to know some of the other Wardens a bit better or something. I bet you'd get along with Anders. Well, as long as you don't tell him that you used to be a Templar."
"Is he the snarky mage with the cat? From the way he kept talking about how the rules of the Chantry don't apply to Grey Wardens I think he already knows." Alistair ran his fingers absently over the velvety sleeves of Martya's dress. She looked a lot smaller without her armour. "Isn't there some way I can help? Nathaniel certainly seems to be helping."
"Well, once you've settled in a bit more I'm sure I'll be asking for your advice, maybe you can help me understand how these damn human nobles think. But Nathaniel grew up here, and was brought up to understand all this...pointless political crap." She looked at Alistair sharply "Are you jealous? Like I said, he really was just helping me back to my room last night."
"I'm sure." he said sarcastically. "And it's just a coincidence that it was him that was carrying you, and him you keep singing the praises of, and him who keeps giving you these affectionate little looks while he whispers in your ear."
"Oh that's just the way he is with everyone." said Martya "The man outflirted Oghren. Look, see him with Velanna, now that's affection." The last time Alistair had looked at Nathaniel he'd been involved in a heated discussion with a merchant and the elf mage Martya had recruited (who had also previously tried to kill her? This was a kind of disturbing pattern, really) But the merchant had since left, leaving Nathaniel and Velanna locked in a whispered but intense argument.
"Oh yes," he said "I can see it now, those two are totally made for each other. I think she's about to affectionately set him on fire." He sighed. "Look, I get it. I was gone for a long time, and we didn't part on the best of terms. If you've moved on then that's…upsetting, but there's no need to lie about it." Martya made a sound of frustration. She then stomped over to Nathaniel and grabbed him by the arm.
"Well, there's no point hiding it any more, Nathaniel." she said curtly.
"Commander?" he asked, confused.
"Our secret affair, Alistair's figured it out."
"Our what?"
"I told you, we can stop pretending! I mean there was no point trying to fool anyone really, all those hours alone in my study must obviously have been spent having hot interspecies sex. It's not like we could have been busy running the arling." This last sentence was directed pointedly at Alistair. Nathaniel made a strangled sound of protest and turned pink. Meanwhile, the elf beside him had turned a more vibrant shade of red.
"Is this true?" she asked angrily.
"What? No. No!" He turned quickly from Velanna to Alistair and back again. "I swear, the Warden Commander and I are just friends! I would never…it's not like that!"
"I'm sure." said Velanna "Well, it's none of my business. If the Commander has chosen to waste her time with yet another of you humans that's no concern of mine. I might have thought you'd display more of this honour you claim to hold so highly, but I suppose I shouldn't have expected any better from a shem."
Martya laughed once, mirthlessly, and let Nathaniel go. "Ah, I'm just messing with you." she said. "Don't worry Velanna, he's all yours. Nathaniel here is a perfect gentleman, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole regardless." At this she poked Nathaniel in the side and pushed him away towards Velanna. "I'm going to find something to drink." she said darkly and wandered off.
"Uh." said Alistair. He smiled apologetically at Nathaniel. "Sorry about that." But Nathaniel was too busy trying to get Velanna to talk to him again to notice, and Alistair decided to try and follow Martya's lead and find some alcohol. Even if he didn't find her, a drink might help make this situation slightly more bearable. He found her just past the door, instructing a servant to bring some wine and bread. She looked furious, though she was carefully polite to the servant.
"Ah, look, I'm sorry." he said "I didn't mean to imply…it's just that you're an arlessa now. I saw what that meant for Arl Eamonn, the decisions he had to make… and I'm just some nobody. Watching you being so much a part of that world I can't help but feel there's no place for me in your life now, and you'd be better off with someone like Nathaniel, someone with noble breeding and upbringing. I mean…you have to have an heir right?"
"It's ok Nathaniel!" she shouted into the room "We're not having an affair any more, we're getting married! Be prepared to have lots of noble half-human babies!"
Having clearly recovered from his previous surprise, Nathaniel replied (somewhat less loudly) "Good to know! How do you feel about having the ceremony in Cloudreach? I've always wanted to get married in Spring."
"Sounds great! I'll ask Anora if she wants to be a bridesmaid!"
"Martya." said Alistair.
Martya, who had been grinning through the doorway, looked back at him, her eyes fierce with anger. "Do you really think I care about all that? I know that if you'd become King you'd have dumped me without a second thought for some simpering human princess, but I'm not going to let a bunch of human nobles tell me who I can sleep with. And do you really think they'd care more about the fact that you're only the illegitimate son of the old King when I'm the daughter of a Duster and some guy she met down the pub? Plus, you know, a dwarf? There's already been one conspiracy against me, and I don't know how much longer the other Teyrns will put up with having a non-human boss them around." She rubbed her face with her hands, the angry spark in her eyes replaced by a look of overwhelming fatigue. "By the ancestors, Alistair, it's not like I wanted to be put in charge here, no more than you wanted to be King. I just didn't do as good a job of getting out of it. That's part of the reason I've been getting Nathaniel so involved in the running of the arling, I'm hoping to have him take over completely as Warden Commander so that I can leave."
"Oh." said Alistair. "I…I'm sorry."
"It's alright." she said. "I understand having a knee jerk reaction against nobles, and it can't have been easy seeing me suddenly turn into one. I don't entirely trust this Arlessa of Amaranthine myself, though she's not as scary as Paragon Brosca."
Alistair laughed "Oh yes, she's terrifying. I'm sure all the darkspawn mothers tell their children tales about her to send them to sleep."
"Ug, don't talk to me about darkspawn children. You have no idea."
"Really?…actually on second thoughts I don't want to know." He took Martya's hand. "Still, I'm really sorry I implied…that I accused you of being unfaithful. That was totally out of line. And I can't wait until we can be just two Grey Warden nobodies together again." Alistair smiled and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.
She looked at him sadly "That would be wonderful," she said "But I'm not sure it will ever happen. I have more responsibilities than just Amaranthine." She sighed and let go of his hand, turning away. "And I never said I didn't cheat on you. I just said I didn't cheat on you with Nathaniel."
They were back in Martya's rooms again. Apparently these were not the rooms Rendon Howe had used, but had been converted from those of Nathaniel's sister. Alistair wondered which of the girly touches around the room were from her and which from Martya. He sat in an overlarge folding chair covered in carved flowers and tried not to overreact. "But I thought things didn't work out between you and Leliana." he said.
"They didn't." said Martya. "And in the end…they didn't. We both knew it couldn't work in the long run. But you never wrote, and you were so late…I thought you'd died or abandoned me. And Leliana came to visit, and then she took me on holiday to cheer me up and…" She smiled weakly. "I mean mostly we just went shoe shopping."
"Oh." he said. After all the pouting he'd done earlier Alistair decided he should try not to be too much of a baby about it, but he couldn't stop himself from sniffing a little.
"And see that, that is the reason things didn't work out between me and Leliana."
"What is?"
"That look! I kept imagining your face, and thinking "What if he's alive? What if he's been captured by pirates or gotten lost in the mountains or is just really really late? How will he feel when he comes home and sees me with her?" And even when I convinced myself you weren't coming back she still…wasn't you. So we came back here, and then it turned out that you were probably fine, and I got incredibly drunk, and Leliana rather quickly transferred her attentions to Anders."
"Anders? The mage?"
"Yes, they're tooth-acheingly sweet together. He even likes that stupid nug of hers." A smile briefly flashed across Martya's face but was quickly lost in the gloom. "I'm really sorry. I know monogamy is a big deal for you, and I should have waited…waited a lot longer before giving up hope. I guess my life hasn't given me much reason to be an optimist." She frowned at her feet, her toes curling awkwardly in her stockings. "If anything happened…whatever happened in Weisshaupt I won't judge you for it. Not that I'd have any right to."
"In Weisshaupt? Ha, yes, you know me, international playboy, girls throwing themselves at me left and right." said Alistair "Why I'm pretty sure the woman who ran the inn I was staying at had actually learned my name by the time I left. Plus there were all those sexy bureaucrats."
"You know, one day you're going to realise how incredibly adorable you are," said Martya, "and then I really will have something to worry about."
She smiled at him and they shared a moment of companionable silence. "Martya, what ever happened in the past, I…" "Wait." she said "There's something else we need to discuss. I know I'd been declared a Paragon before you left, but I was so busy dealing with everything else that I hadn't really had a chance to think about the consequences. And you're not a dwarf, so I don't know that you really understand what it means. I have a House. And it's not like the arling, I can't just leave it to my subservients and let the whole thing run itself. I have to make the House, choose who can be a member, set up the whole household, decide what factions we're aligned with. It's…huge. And terrifying. I spent a couple of months in Orzammar before I got called up here, and I've been doing what I can by mail since then but I'm going to have to go back eventually. Preferably as soon as possible."
"And how long will that take to finish?" he asked. When she didn't answer he said "Maker's breath. You don't intend to finish do you? You're going to stay and run House Brosca forever. It's only the human nobles you don't want to be one of." She frowned sadly but didn't contradict him. "So, what, that's it? You're not going to dump me for a human noble, but you are for a dwarven one? Do you have some lucky fellow in mind? Maybe Oghren, he's married a Paragon before. Or is he not noble enough for you any more?"
"Ack, it's not like that! Dwarves don't care how many lovers I have, or what their background is. Don't you remember my sister and Bhelen? I'm not dumping you, I'm just letting you know what it would mean to stay with me. I know you didn't like Orzammarr, and even as my concubine you'd probably never be entirely accepted into dwarven society."
"Your concubine?" Alistair gaped.
Well, that went down about as well as she'd expected. "It's a respected position! It's not…we really don't see the things the same way in Orzammarr, noone would look down on you for…"
Martya stopped and considered his pained expression. She absently gnawed on a thumbnail and took a deep breath. "Or…look, I don't know for certain if the Shaperate would respect it but…would you rather be my husband?"
Alistair froze. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the room was silent except for the faint sound of sparring from the training grounds below.
"Ancestor's teeth, that came out…wrong. I didn't mean to…you don't have to answer that. Not today, at least. I just wanted you to know that if you're willing to put up with me then I'd like you to keep sticking around. And if that means I have to fight the whole Assembly to get them to recognise you, well… I've always been good at fighting." Alistair stood up. Martya watched him in trepidation, trying to read his expression. He walked the two steps to the couch she was sitting on and kneeled in front of her. "What, are you…" she began but stopped when he leaned over and kissed her.
"Was that a yes?" she said at last.
"That was a 'maybe' to the hus…" His mouth seemed to have trouble with the word and he coughed "…marriage thing. But it was a 'yes' to the sticking around. We'll figure something out."
Martya let out a breath and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Good."
"There's one condition though," added Alistair, pulling his head back and tapping her nose with his finger. "If Anora, or the Grey Wardens, or Andraste herself comes down and says it's vitally important that one of us go take up some new Super Important Position somewhere Very Far Away we very politely tell them to go jump in Lake Calahad."
Martya laughed. "Agreed," she said.