When Jon Amell asked for a title and riches as a reward for saving the country, he was clearly kidding. At least, he thought that should have been clear...
"A title and the riches to go with it!" What kind of moronic ingrate says such a thing? Apparently, my kind of moronic ingrate!
Jon marveled at his own idiocy for the umpteenth time that week as the nobles of the Landsmeet trotted themselves out for the first dance of the wedding banquet. Not knowing any of the steps, he remained rooted in his place of honor on the dais, shifting uncomfortably in his new velvet breeches and frock coat. He'd normally resented magic robes as the uniform forced upon Circle mages. He'd eschewed them entirely after the Battle of Ostagar, in favor of the much more battle-practical chainmail. But tonight, he'd have given his back teeth to wear robes, or just about anything besides the tight, itchy velvet that was apparently de rigueur for Fereldan nobility, of which he was now, against all reason, the most prominent member.
"So you're the one?"
Jon snapped out of his reverie to find that a young woman had unceremoniously plopped herself down in the chair next to him on the dais.
"I'm sorry, my lady?". He assumed anyone who felt comfortable enough to mount the dais of the royal throne room without invitation had to be a noblewoman, although he didn't recognize her from the Landsmeet, and she was dressed somewhat plainly for the occasion.
"You're the one who stole my kill?"
He sighed. "I've killed quite a lot of people, my lady. You'll have to be more specific."
"Arl Rendon Howe? Mincing little syncophant of a man? Traitorous bastard?"
"Ah, you must be the Lady Cousland."
"Your Grace," she said, with a slight bow of her head. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."
Jon bristled at the honorific. In his mind he had already entitled himself for the history books: Jon Amell, the Accidental Teyrn of Gwaren.
"Please," he said with a sigh, "It's Jon."
She nodded. "Leah."
"A pleasure."
"Likewise."
She held up her hand like a limp, drooping bird's wing, and he took it gingerly and shook it uncertainly, before realizing that she'd meant for him to kiss it. He felt like a dolt, but her smile as she drew her hand back seemed genuine. Perhaps it was just the wine.
"Sorry about Howe," he said with a wry smile. "He was in my way. If I'd known you'd already marked him for death yourself, I'd have just maimed him and saved him for you."
"Well, it's the thought that counts."
"You're very gracious, my lady."
"Leah," she reminded him.
"Leah. My apologies."
She paused. "I'm just glad he's dead," she said, the mirth suddenly gone from her voice.
Jon remembered the horrors of Howe's dungeon. "Likewise," he added somberly.
They sat in silence for a few moments observing the scene, as Leah tapped her foot to the music. Nobles from every reach of Ferelden (and both sides of the civil war) had gathered in Denerim for the occasion, and were now circling and swirling on through the hall in their finest silks and velvets, pretending like the horrors of the past year had never happened.
"How do you like the wedding?" Leah asked him. "I heard you were responsible for this, too." She gestured toward the royal couple.
"I suppose that's true," Jon chuckled lightly. "Although I don't have much to compare it to. How do you think it measures up?"
Leah's gaze followed Anora as she danced stiffly with her new husband, who, for his part, seemed to want to look anywhere except at her.
"It looks a lot like her last wedding, actually, right down to the groom."
Jon laughed. He'd always felt like quite the fool for having seen Cailan and Alistair practically side-by-side at Ostagar without realizing the truth immediately.
"And the father of the bride scarcely looks more pleased," she added, nodding toward the corner where Loghain stood scowling at the festivities.
Jon winced, imagining that at least some of the scowl was directed at him. He had assiduously avoided Loghain's persistent inquiries as to how Jon had survived slaying the Archdemon. The whole situation had been the product of a moment of extreme weakness, both physical and moral, and Jon had no wish to share it with Loghain or anyone else.
"Leah Cousland, as I live and breathe!"
Jon turned to see Bann Teagan striding purposefully toward the dais. Leah rose to meet him and offered her hand in the same, delicate gesture she had proferred to Jon earlier. Teagan laid upon it a gentlemany, if somewhat lingering kiss.
"I almost didn't recognize you," Teagan went on. "What happened to your hair?"
"Oh," she said, self-consciously touching her black hair, bobbed short at the nape of her neck. "I cut it short to disguise myself as a boy on our way out of Ferelden."
"Clever, cunning girl!" Teagan effused. "Did you hear, Amell—excuse me, Your Grace—this young woman fought her way out of a castle under siege by that worm Howe, with her eight-year-old nephew at her side, and escaped to Antiva disguised as a page? How's that for Fereldan spirit!"
Leah visibly blushed. "Teagan, please, you're extolling my meager exploits to a man who slayed a dragon."
"Two, actually," Jon said matter-of-factly. "Three, if you count...well, that's a long story."
Leah smiled. "You'll have to tell me that one later."
"It would be my pleasure." Jon felt himself flush, to his sudden confusion.
Teagan broke in. "Your Grace, please forgive me, but I simply must borrow the Lady Cousland for the next dance."
"Teagan," she said nervously, "it's been quite a while since I've danced. I must apologize in advance for your feet."
"Nonsense!" Teagan laughed, offering his arm. She took it, and stepped tentatively out onto the dance floor with him.
Jon watched them as she laughed and nervously minded her feet and Teagan beamed his warm, indulgent smiles. He felt an unexpected knot of jealousy tighten in his gut. It hit him suddenly that perhaps she had been looking to be asked to dance, and he had missed the chance, just as he'd failed to kiss her hand. As the Teyrn of Gwaren, he probably ought to have been able to ask a lady to dance.
But, of course, he didn't know the steps.
Author's note: I'm not certain how I feel about this story, but I'm willing to try it out if you are. :-) The plan is to bring it all the way through Awakening.