Hi there!
Gosh! This is scary, its been a while since I tried to write a fanfiction that wasn't a one shot... so please bare with me on this. It will be a labour of love (I hope). I hope you enjoy this first chapter, please let me know what you think. :3
For the moment, the rating is Teen. It will change and become mature later on. Just a forewarning!
The moon was high over Ferelden tonight. Full and glistening silver. It seemed to shine its light directly down onto the crown jewel of the country, Denerim. The Blight was over, the civil war avoided entirely, and the new King was loved by the nobles and commoners alike. After the massive battle that had taken place, where the Archdemon was destroyed, it had taken some time for Denerim to return to her former glory. The Market District had been completely rebuilt, as had the Alienage. Amazingly almost everyone had chipped in to assist. The common folk, the gentry and the elves. All joining forces for a common cause.
The new King has also made appearances daily working with his subjects to build his home back to way it had been, improving it in some ways.
That was part of the reason he was so well liked. He integrated himself with everyone. He was knowledgeable enough to hold his own with the nobles of the Landsmeet, but he was not so above his station that he did not enjoy the simple things in life. An evening at the local tavern with a tankard of good ale, and better company. Exchanging stories with his subjects.
With them, talking easily without pause or pressure was where he excelled best. While he held twice weekly audiences where people of all classes could propose their troubles to him for his evaluation; in the tavern he was most comfortable and felt he did his best work.
Despite the concerns of his personal guard and his advisors, King Alistair continued to do things his way... now happier to stand up for himself. After all, he often worked on the base advice he had received once before the Blight had been defeated; that no one could tell a King what to do.
It was summer now, Denerim had been rebuilt through a tough Autumn, a fierce Winter and a wet Spring. But with summer now in full bloom Denerim was the picture of glory and reality she had always been. The wind was soft, sending warm, scented breezes up into the castle from the herb gardens. The Landsmeet had organised a gathering of all of Ferelden's gentry for Alistair, a celebration of getting Denerim back on its feet, and also an opportunity for him to meet all the eligible noble women of the court. Alistair was not aware of the second reason for the gathering.
He had been King for nearly a year and ruled well alone, and with the advice of his advisors and his Chancellor; his fellow Grey Warden who had helped in defeating the Blight, a former Mage of the Circle, Isha Amell. No matter how well he ruled though, the fact he had not yet taken a wife troubled the court, and often conversation rippled through the grand hall during sessions of court. Alistair was aware of their comments, and softly spoken troubles but had no aching desire to take a wife. In fact it was something he had not yet thought on.
The reason being his Chancellor. There had been a time when they had travelled as companions gathering Ferelden together, uniting its different peoples – they had shared a romance. But after he had become King... things had changed. Without realising it they had let their romance dwindle. Yet he was still in love with the dark haired mage, though it had been months since he had last said so. And the idea of taking a wife made him unsure and feel like he was breaking promises.
He had not mentioned this to anyone, and dared not speak of it to Isha.
As the celebration continued, Alistair mingled with the nobles he recognised, Bann Teagan with his new wife, Kellar; a native of Redcliffe. Arl Eamon, and his son Conner who had been allowed out of the Tower for this celebratory reason. He also mingled with other members of the Landsmeet he knew well, and those he needed to get to know better, so he could better work their politics on to his side. Despite his lack of knowledge in all things to do with running a kingdom, Alistair had surprised even himself with how quickly he had picked up the things he needed to know, and how to work people and politics to his advantage.
While he moved, chatted casually with those around him and danced quickly and unsteadily with those that asked – he had never been very adept at dancing – he was fully aware of his guards littered around the room, keeping a keen eye on guests, watching for danger – this was the perfect opportunity after all for an assassination attempt with so many people around. He was also aware of a pair of green eyes that never left him for the slightest moment.
She kept away from the main revelry; in fact she barely moved from where his throne was. Her faithful marbari hound, Argor, sat at her side chewing an ox bone. Isha was not one for joining in with such things as these grand parties. She felt out of place, not being of noble birth and being a mage also, she always felt a type of stigma and preferred to stay in the shadows so she did not alarm or worry any of the gentry. This evening was no different.
Some though, were not afraid of her; knowing her power and the part she had played in ending the Blight. Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon were two such people, and they kept her company in easy conversation.
"And what of the new haren in the Alienage, Shianni?" one noble woman was asking Alistair as he sipped his drink. He did not like these silly fancy glasses that were used. He preferred to hold a sturdy tankard. These glasses he felt like they would break if he held too tightly.
"What about her?" he asked.
"Well – she seems to be causing some trouble."
Alistair proffered his best smile, "and what trouble would that be, Lady Uleth?"
"She stirs the elves up so. Many of my servants have complained about working conditions where they did not so before; it is my belief that she should be silenced somehow. Locked away." Lady Uleth explained. "After all, her riling up on the elves... it breaks the peace, does it not?"
"She argues for rights for her people. She wants what is best." Alistair replied, "I think that is a noble thing, don't you?"
Lady Uleth spluttered uncomfortably. "Well, I.. Your Majesty-"
"Yes, my Lady?" Alistair's smile remained, but his voice had a barely detectable edge of warning to it. One thing he could not abide was the way nobles treated the elves of the Alienage, even now despite how they had helped in the battle, and how their brethren, the Dalish had also helped.
"I simply meant, Your Majesty-"
"Have a care with my name, you will wear it out." Alistair grinned. He left her speechless making a bee line for his throne. He wished to speak to Arl Eamon about arranging a visit to Redcliffe sometime soon; and for the moment he was in deep conversation with Isha and Bann Teagan's wife Kellar. Before he could reach his desired location though Arl Wulffe swept him up in an arm and directed him towards his pretty daughter, Elina. Alistair had met with Elina many times over the past few months. She was intelligent, gentile and well spoken. He was fully aware that she was his favoured match by many of the nobles. She was very attractive too, strawberry blonde hair down to her waist currently tied back in braids; almond shaped blue eyes, a shrewd mouth, and she was taller than many of the women in the court.
She couldn't have been more unlike Isha if she tried.
Isha's black hair was short, barely below her shoulders, and she wore it up most of the time. She was short, almost the same height as an elf woman. She had an sweet up-turned nose, a small smattering of freckles across her nose and eyes the green of elf root, which were large and baleful.
"Elina," Alistair greeted with a warm smile. She was a wonderful conversationalist, and in truth Alistair enjoyed her company. They flirted in little ways and were able to hold long conversations. She would have made a fine queen – no doubt. The only problem was that he was not in love with her, like he was with Isha still.
"Your Majesty," Elina bowed deeply to him. She was dressed in a deep red velvet gown, which complimented her hair and skin tone beautifully. It had a low-cut front and deep sleeves lined with gold lace. The bodice had embroidery decorating, and the skirt of the dress had further lace intricately detailed into shapes. "I trust Your Majesty is enjoying the festivities?"
"I am." Alistair replied, "and how many times must I tell you, please call me Alistair."
"Is... to informal, Majesty." Elina replied, bowing again, "forgive me."
"I see," Alistair pursed his lips, "how does just 'Al' grab you then?" He grinned, Elina giggled. Their conversation continued from there, he led her around the dance floor, one of her arms laced with his. They moved in between groups and dancing couples, talking and chatting easily to those who spoke to them first, and those who Alistair wished to speak to.
It made Isha's chest ache painfully to see him so blissful and happy, she could barely stand it. But she didn't dare leave. She put herself through the torture most days, watching him talk and tease so openly with women, as he had once done with her. She made the effort to avoid him now. Avoid being alone with him, avoid conversations, avoid touching him at all costs. It was all a precaution for her, not wanting to let herself fall back into old habits, and also not allow her old feelings to return. He was King – he was untouchable now.
He needed to find a wife, one who could bear children without risk of the Taint. She needed to get passed her feelings. She had tried to bury them deep inside, forget they existed. But they reared up more often than she would have liked.
The last few weeks had been the worst for some time. Only Argor saw or heard her, but she often cried herself to sleep hugging the mabari who whined sympathetically to her plight. It had become worse as the members of the Landsmeet had made a more conscious effort to match Alistair with women of suitable rank and birth.
She had never stood a chance.
"My Lady?" Isha was surprised from her stupor by Bann Teagan, gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She stared at him, and slowly blinked.
"Oh, Teagan... I'm sorry. What were you saying?" she asked.
"It... is not important. Tell me are you feeling well?" Teagan inquired, his brow creasing with worry. Beside him was Kellar, a few months pregnant with their first child.
Isha cleared her throat, "yes..." she forced a smile, "yes. I am sorry – I did not mean to stare into the distance as I did. It was rude of me. Please, tell me – when is the happy day?" She was talking about the approximate date when their baby was to arrive, it was the last thing she could recall speaking to Kellar about.
"We believe it will be December, in time for Feast Day!" Kellar explained excitedly. Isha smiled. She liked Kellar, she had from the moment Teagan had introduced her to the court. She was young, with long red hair and chestnut eyes. She was taller than Isha, and had the nimble build of a rogue.
"That's wonderful." Isha expressed, at her feet Argor barked happily in agreement. "Have you thought of names?"
Teagan looked awkward for a moment, "well... we had a few ideas."
"Tell me!" Isha pressed eagerly. She was trying think of happier things, and nothing could be happier than parents expecting a child. She was also trying to avoid watching Alistair swirl with Elina in the throngs of dancers, his hand in the small of her back, while he whispered private words to her and whatever it was he said, caused the woman to laugh.
"If it is a boy we were thinking of Samuel." Teagan explained.
"And a girl?"
"Isabella." Kellar said, enthusiastically.
Isha smiled, the first time she felt she had for months. "They're wonderful names." She truly meant it too. She had never considered what she would name children if she ever had the chance to have them... not that there was much chance of that any longer. What with the Taint in the blood, and with the man she loved searching for a wife.
At that moment, her eyes flickered to Alistair as the room erupted into gasps, laughter and applause. In the midst of it all was Alistair, his lips captured by Elina. Isha froze on the stop. Her stomach sank, and she felt like she had swallowed a rock. Her throat ran dry, at the same time her heart began to beat so fast it hurt, she was sure others could hear the noise.
Seeing him holding the hands of other women. Touching them, dancing with them. Making them laugh, flirting and teasing she could take. But the sight of him kissing someone else was a sight so terrible it she could only equate the pain to that of the nightmares she had had of the darkspawn and the Archdemon during the Blight. She felt sick.
"My Lady?"
Isha was shaking, "excuse me Teagan, please." She retreated quickly, rushing from the room through a side door that led out to a balcony. Stairs followed off the balcony down to the gardens, and another set up to the second floor to the private quarters of the King and his closest consorts. Her room was up there, a hall away from Alistair's.
She ran, and caught herself on the stone barrier made to stop anyone falling from the balcony's height. She was gasping, tears that had burned her eyes were falling down her face, dripping onto the stone work. Argor followed after her, whining and barking with worry. Isha grasped her hand to her mouth to stifle sobs that wracked her body. She ran down the steps and retreated into the gardens.
At the far end of the gardens, secluded was a stone bench, and a small ornate fountain which had been decorated with Duncan's shield. This area of the garden had been planted with rose bushes. Dozens of them. They were all in bloom and Isha was suddenly surrounded with blossoms of yellow, pink and white. There was only one bush that produced red roses. It had been Isha's favourite. Now, just seeing the red roses sent a new wave of nausea washing over her; remembering the rose he had given her that night at camp, outside of the Spoilt Princess at Lade Calenhad.
"Oh Maker..." Isha sobbed. She allowed herself to cry freely here, away from people, where no one could hear her. She slumped on the ground, leaning on the bench with her arm; covering her eyes with her free hand. She shook violently as if her very life force was being drawn from her by a blood mage.
Argor whined as he approached and nudged her shoulder tentatively with his cold nose. He whined further when Isha did not respond and fervently shoved his head under her arm. Isha managed a small laugh at her stubborn mabari, wrapping her arms around his bulk and sobbing into his fur.
She was unsure how long it had been before she heard footsteps approaching. She had stopped crying, but refused to let Argor go. For now he seemed to be the only thing sustaining her.
"Warden..." It was Teagan's voice she heard. His feet crunched on the gravel. "Have you wept all this time?" Tears began to flow afresh from her eyes. Isha's fingers grasped to Argor's fur, he nuzzled her hair affectionately. Teagan sat on the stone bench and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He was not as blind as the rest of the nobles it seemed. He had seen the way Alistair and the Warden had looked at each other when they had been together during the Blight. He had been certain they would marry once he took the throne, and had been shocked when Alistair had not.
"I will weep longer." Isha murmured, "please Teagan – I do not wish you or anyone to see this weakness in me."
Teagan sighed, "I am your friend, Warden, I shall not leave, even if you beg me. To feel so strongly over one you love... it is not weak. You are human."
Isha shuddered, "I feel so... wretched." She said softly, between shaking breaths. "I hate how I feel."
"I would imagine it is normal." Teagan spoke softly, "to feel as you do, if you are denied the one you love." He waited for a response from the dark haired woman. She shifted, adjusting her position and curling away from Teagan. He cleared his throat, released her shoulder and clasped his hands together in his lap. "To have him flaunted before you... while you watch as others vie for his attention. His affection."
"It hurts." Isha said finally. "It hurts so much that I want to scream. I want to call out to all of Ferelden of the unfairness of this situation. Most of all I want to scream at him."
"Why?"
"He had no intention of marrying me – I see that now." Isha explained. She was unable to keep the bitter tone from her voice, "it was cruel to keep me here, knowing how I felt about him when he knew sooner or later those in the Landsmeet would want him to find a wife. Leaving me to watch..."
Teagan swallowed, "I do not think that Alistair is a cold man like that... he would never knowingly go out of his way to hurt someone. Least of all someone he cares about as much as you."
"He does not care!" Isha snapped viciously. She rose to her feet. Her sorrow was giving way to anger. "He never did! They were just words. Sweetened words that he never meant!"
"If you believe that, then you do not know him." Teagan said softly. He knew Isha was angry, and that she did not believe the things she said, despite how vehemently she said them.
Isha paused, "you are right. I do not know him." She released a shuddering breath, "nor do I think I ever did."
"Teagan?" Isha turned suddenly, Alistair's voice echoing over the rose bushes. He was at the entrance of the garden. Teagan stood. "Teagan?"
"Here, Your Majesty." Teagan called back. Alistair's face lit up in a grin. He strode across the garden a picture of royalty. Even without his armour he was a fine specimen to look at, broad shoulders, a well formed torso, long, muscles legs. Straight nose, defined chin, beautiful eyes. Isha quickly rubbed her face with her hands.
"Your wife was looking for you. I believe she means to retire." Alistair explained. Teagan nodded, offered his good nights and disappeared. For the moment Alistair did not appear to have noticed Isha's dishevelled appearance as he moved passed her and sat on the stone bench Teagan had been sitting upon moments before. He exhaled deeply and stared up at the dark sky, littered with stars. Isha tensed, she did not want to be here – did not want to be around him. She would lose all control on her emotions if she did.
There was a rustle of bushes which caught her attention, she saw Alistair fingering one of the red roses, he had picked it.
"This reminds me of the one I gave you... the one I picked in Lothering." He paused and gently touched its velvet petals. "Do you remember?"
Of course she remembered. She remembered the way her heart had fluttered when he had given it to her. How curious she had been when she had seen him night after night toying with him as if trying to make a decision. It had been her first real gift... and the sentiment behind it was a beautiful one. She had treasured it. Kept it safe, maintained it with magic.
"Yes." Isha replied softly, trying to not let her voice shake. She had not turned to face him, and did not intend to.
"Do you still have it?" Alistair asked.
Did she? Yes. After Shale had almost flattened it one day with his massive feet, she had decided keeping it alive was too dangerous for the rose, so had dried it and kept it safe between pages of one of her spell books. In fact that spell book still sat on her desk, and the pages where the rose was stored were well thumbed.
She swallowed, "no."
"Oh." Alistair said softly. Isha heard him move behind her, the sound of his clothes moving against each other. He was more accustomed now to wearing fine clothes made of cotton and linen, decorated with rich colours. "Well maybe you should have this one to replace it?" He held the rose out to her. Isha could see it out of the corner of her eye. "After all, you're still a rare and beautiful thing." Isha suppressed a shuddered. The first time he had said that she had felt like all the air had been knocked from her lungs, like she would fall over as her legs lost all feeling.
"I..." Isha struggled. She was going to hurt him. She wanted him to feel a moment of the pain she felt daily. "I must refuse."
"Why?" Alistair sounded shocked and a little hurt. "It's a gift."
"I do not want it." Isha said sternly, "Your Majesty." She added, to add a little salt to the wound. She called him Alistair when they were alone. Your Majesty was kept for social graces.
Alistair persisted, "why not? You've never refused a gift from me before?" Isha did not reply, she kept her back to him, staring at the castle walls a few metres away. Argor sat away from them, watching the scene. "Look at me." Again, Isha ignored him, her hands tightening into fists at her side. Alistair was glaring at her back, she could feel it. Like something was burning into her. Her skin tingled uncomfortably. "That's an order from your King." Said Alistair, finally resorting to the one thing he knew she would not, nor ever could refuse.
Isha turned to him. Her eyes stayed on the ground for a moment before she drew the courage to move her gaze slowly up. Up from his feet where he wore smart leather boots up to his knees, over his dark britches. His dark red cotton shirt was un-tucked, and slightly open at the top, he had been wearing a tunic before though seemed to have discarded it for now. Her eyes lingered briefly on his mouth, she was flooded with memories. The memories of her first kiss, other kisses that had followed with him. Kisses they had exchanged when they had slept together for the first time. A first time for the both of them.
Then there was that straight nose and the noble brow. His eyes were booring into her, she could still read him like an open book. He tried so hard to look angry and fierce. But his eyes were tinged with hurt, confusion and... what she could only describe as regret.
The rose sat ignored on the bench.
"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to stop his affection for her coming across in his voice.
"Nothing." Isha replied icily. She had to keep control. Keep tight control. She could do that. Mages were taught to control their emotions so they did not interfere with their powers. Alistair grasped the top of her arms in large hands gently, holding her in place. Isha struggled, and his grip tightened ever-so slightly. "Let me go."
"No." Alistair counted quickly. He stepped towards her. He was barely inches from her body from her face. The last time they had been this close... it had been during the final battle. Before they had entered Fort Drakon, she had kissed him. She could feel the body heat radiating from him, his breath on her face. It was all so familiar and yet at the same time... not. He was a different person now. He had changed so much. He was no longer Alistair the sweet, babbling Grey Warden. He was Alistair Theirin. Brother to the late Cailan, son to the late Maric. King of all Ferelden.
And he was forbidden to her.
He bent his head, and for a moment Isha believe he was about to kiss her. That would be a terrible thing. She would lose all her resolve. She would kiss him back, desperately. Hungrily. Filling it with all the passion she still felt for him, all the longing she had been keeping trapped inside for the past nine months. But he didn't, instead his head linger beside hers, he was breathing beside her ear. His scent was intoxicating. One Isha had missed.
"Please tell me what is wrong. I can see you have been crying." Alistair murmured, his tone barely above a whisper, "what upsets you so?"
She wanted to tell him. Maker knew how much she wanted to tell him. To let everything out of her chest. To express to him how much she missed being with him, how much she loved him. How much it hurt to see him with other women, how much she hated herself for still feeling this way. And also how much she had hated him for discarding her like a common whore when he had been made King. That made her ache so much, and filled her chest up with a sense of hate that over-rode her desperation to tell him all she had wanted to.
Isha schooled her expression, took Alistair's hands in hers and removed them from her shoulders. She stepped away from him, staring at his face coldly. "Nothing." She bowed low, "nothing that need concern you, my King." She did not rise from her position, instead stared at Alistair's feet. He was glaring again.
"Fine." He snapped, "be that way." He did not have the energy to dig deeper, even if seeing Isha upset made his heart ache. He strode away from her, if she was not going to divulge the information to him, then he would not force her. She would tell him sooner or later, she always did. "I intend to retire shortly." He said, using his most authoritative voice, saved only for the use on guards and in official states. "You may retire once I do, if that is your wish."
"Very well, Your Majesty."
"Good night, Chancellor." Alistair added slowly as he walked passed her.
"Pleasant dreams, Majesty." Isha replied. She waited until Alistair was back inside and she knew it was safe before she stood up entirely. Tears were rolling down her cheeks again, she was amazed she still had tears to cry. She did not think it was possible to cry as much as she had over the last few weeks. Argor approached her and nuzzled her leg. Isha squatted and rubbed her mabari's head with her fingers, rubbing his ears softly. He was her most devoted and trusted friend: they did not need any one else.
She sighed and rose to her feet, beckoning Argor to her side she walked slowly back up the stone steps, and stared into the great hall were the party was still in full swing. She leaned on the door frame, hidden from view, though she could see everyone.
This was not a world she was part of. Not a world she was welcome in. This was not a world she wanted to be a part of. She had been unhappy in the tower, locked in like a wild bird caught in a cage, wanting only to stretch its wings. She was unhappy here, more than she ever had been at the Circle because she was surrounded by those who feared and hated her for what she was. And she was within reach of the one thing she so desperately wanted and needed – and yet could not have.
The only time she could remember being happy was being on the road as she had been, with Alistair, Morrigan. With Sten the stoic Qunari who had become one of her wisest and most trusted friends. With Lelianna, her gentle bard friend; Zevran the rogue Antivan Crow with a tongue that could make even the worst women blush. Oghren, the loudmouth Dwarf who had become a close friend and her drinking partner. Even Shale... her golem companion who had talked endlessly to his pet rock, Herbert. She also missed Wynne, another Mage who she missed, who had acted as a guide and tutor for her. She missed them all. She also missed the open world... being here, cooped up. It did not suit her.
It was there and then Isha made a choice. She was going to leave, and she would leave that night.
