A Lady and Her Gentleman
This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**
Snippet 1 – Ritual Be Damned
With an unearthly calm she gently closed the door to her room. She took off her armor with a mechanical demeanor, piece by piece, the actions taking little to no effort as her mind tried to wrap itself around the reality of what was happening down the hall.
The maids of Arl Eamon's estate had been kind enough to supply her cabinets with a silken chemise. The fabric slid over her skin like a lover's caress. The thought made her chest tighten, and with as much effort as she could, she pushed the notion away. Her calloused fingers methodically took the pins from her hair, the long blood red tendrils cascading down her back in dark waves. She couldn't help but remember the look on Alistair's face when he regarded her unbound hair for the first time. Silken threads had weaved through his fingers. How he had said he couldn't think of anything more beautiful, how he had kissed her reverently and taken her that night and many nights afterwards.
Oh how heavy her heart was! She hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath.
She leaned against the bedpost, her hands clutched at her chest. Her voice came to her in a shaking pleading whisper, "Breathe. Breathe. Oh for the love of the maker, just breathe!" The silent tears began their escape and with the fluttering of lashes, begging to stop their parade, she wept.
Stop it. Stop it! Her hands were pressed against her eyes; the pressure behind them so hard it was as if she was trying desperately to push the cursed images out of her mind forcefully. She didn't want to imagine, she didn't want to know. But it was there in her mind like a venomous cloud, the dark tendrils latching on and sucking away at what little semblance of sanity she could muster. She couldn't feel the cut of her nails from her unclenched palm dig into the skin beside her furrowed brow.
His skin was touching that woman's. Were his lips pressed upon hers in a fit of ecstasy? Oh the sudden wave of anguish that came upon her! It arose from within the deep dark pit of her soul and she fell to her knees and let out a wail full of sadness and grief that she hadn't done since she was a small child. Like a rising tide of emotion everything was catching up to her. There had been no time to mourn; there had always been movement and the constant companionship of her comrades in arms to keep such dark thoughts at bay. This was to be her night, the longest night she had ever known, to mourn; this was to be her night to grieve over the deaths of her loved ones, of her father, mother and all those back at the house of Cousland.
A creak of the door sounded as it slightly parted, unnoticed. Amber eyes watched silently. A moment later the door closed and Zevran was gone.
Erilys continued to sit upon the stone floor, her tired gaze looking at the burning hearth. Someone had been kind enough to get a nice fire burning before she had retired for the evening. She huddled beside the pile of wood neatly placed by the fire. There was so much to ponder, to think about and all she wanted to do was beat the witch silly for her silly ritual. She almost felt like a child knowing that some other undeserving child was playing with her favorite plaything. Erilys glowered, She better not be licking any lamp posts.
Frustration made her jaw clench at the thought!
Desperately she looked around her room to find anything to do to put her mind at ease, something to keep it occupied until she could finally succumb to sleep and perhaps get a sweet, sweet dream of the Archdemon roaring lullabies in her ear. Her armor looked like it needed polishing; there was some gore her critical eye caught that her sweet Atticus hadn't managed to find while he licked it cleaned. She thought to venture out of her room, but it was still early enough that the others would be awake and the prideful noble in her didn't wish the others to see her in her puffy red eyed state. Ah vanity.
Maybe if the others saw her polishing her sword with such grim determination beneath the light of the moon they would know to stay away. Well… at least Oghren would anyways. Or perhaps he'd suggest she polish his. Now that almost managed a chuckle.
She pulled herself up from the floor and reached for her discarded armor and pack. Erilys was determined to have her armor sparkling. The noble Lady Cousland would be the glittering beacon the darkspawn would be drawn to like one of those glamour stones. When she opened the pack, there to greet her was the pressing book that housed the rose Alistair had given her. The tug of memory forced a smile upon her face. He had been so sweet, so innocent in his cute ramblings as he stumbled about trying to tell her how he felt. She had gladly stumbled along with him.
Polishing cloth and ointment in hand she got to work. There was to be no dried blood left, if one spot of armor looked dull she would attack it with grim determination and more. Undeterminable amount of time passed as she polished and scrubbed till she realized that working anymore on it would be borderline obsession. Frustrated, she dropped her armor unceremoniously to the floor and gave it a slight push with her foot.
Lady Erilys sighed as she fell on to her bed, how restless she felt! Glumly she stared at the door. How it mocked her so in her torment, self inflicting that it was. She thought of looking for a good book to read though her heart wasn't in it. She would simply turn the pages in unrest and possibly throw the book in the fire. A small smile painted her lips; perhaps Arl Eamon wouldn't appreciate her burning his dusty old books in frustration.
As she continued to rest, Erilys desperately wished for Atticus to appear out of nowhere and curl up beside her. He was more than likely in the kitchens, being as cute as a mabari warhound could; all muscle and fur with a deceptively cute whine. He would curl up beside her as she hugged him close just like when her father first gave him to her. Atticus had been such a cute pup and he was still just as mischievous. Thinking of Atticus strangely reminded her of Alistair. He was always moving, happy. So clever with his words and if he was upset oh how boyishly sad he could get!
With those parting thoughts, Erilys drifted to sleep.
When her eyes finally opened it was still dark out, the brilliant fire of her hearth before was but a small flickering flame. Lowering her gaze to her side she noticed Alistair had not returned to her bed. She rubbed her head with a weary hand, lips tightly pressed as she got up from her coverlets. Perhaps she'd sneak a bit of fruit from the kitchens or get a nice big goblet of wine to drink to her heart's content. Or she could take the entire bottle!
Carefully she stepped down the hall, her blanket firmly wrapped around her shoulders. Erilys paused as she noticed the door to Alistair's room had finally been closed. She stood before it staring at the imposing wood unable to make up her mind. She could not and would not force her way in there. She wasn't in her right mind. The things she would say would be hurtful, the things she wanted to do would make her feel repulsive later on.
Erilys watched the hearth's fire light dance beneath the door, it was almost soothing… calming. It was enough for her to focus on for a time and lose herself in. The sudden shadow passing by sent a sudden shiver of alarm through her, her body tensed and her hand pressed over her mouth. The shadow beneath the door seemed to stare back at her, unmoving. It held her captive and it kept her there as if it had the power to paralyze whoever laid eyes on it.
Slowly the door began to pull open. Her eyes widened with fear and with a panicked frenzy she reached for the handle and firmly held the door in place. Erilys bit her lip, trying to keep from saying a word. What in the world was she thinking, she thought? Oh how she had wished she had simply stayed in her room! If only she had attempted sleep instead of even entertaining the thought of venturing out when she simply was not in her right state of mind.
"W-what the- Erilys?" Ah so he was surprised to meet such sweet resistance?
Stupid, stupid woman, she agonized. All she had to do was let go of the door and flee. Or perhaps not flee but stand there as the proud Cousland she had been brought up to be, standing as regal as any noble lady could in her nightgown, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, with unfastened hair, and looking as if she had been crying all night and torturing herself with unabashed and unwanted fantasies of her betrothed and witch-friend tangling themselves in clean linen sheets. The sudden pull of the door only made her hold on to the door tighter.
"Maker's breathe let go of the door! Erilys? Whoever you are? This isn't really a good night for jokes and the like. We fight the Archdemon tomorrow, remember that? Big ugly tainted dragon flying about? Dozens of Darkspawn? Yes? No? Let go of the door and get some rest!"
She simply replied with silence.
"Ah I see… you think I'm going to be dissuaded by a little silent treatment? Well I have news for you; I'm used to silent treatments! You won't faze me one teensy bit. I don't know if you've heard but I'm a king now, although I don't really want to be king, but I have kingly commands and guards that I can, ah , command and I won't be afraid of using them. The commands I mean. Just let go of the door and perhaps we can talk? Pretty please? No hurt in a parlay eh?"
Listening to the boyish pleading of the man she loved was enough to soften the tension in her arms. She hadn't noticed the slight testing of the door or else she would have been prepared for the ferocious yank that sent her flying forward in all her noble gracefulness. At the very least the blanket had been kind enough to cover her completely and allow her some sort of shield from shame as she was stunned on hand and knee.
Silence.
Perhaps he hadn't noticed a woman wearing only a chemise and blanket fall to the floor. Perchance the blanket was magically enchanted and she was rendered invisible from friend and foe alike. She didn't make a sound. Just what was she to do? Slowly she started to turn around, the blanket fervently guarding it's bearer from the evil man's view. As she silently prayed to the Maker, she began to make her exit, crawling as a tiny babe would. What would Fergus have said?
"Making your escape are you? Tsk, tsk… Shall you reveal yourself or must I?"
She fervently shook her head.
"Erilys?" Such a tender question. How was it that he could shape her name into such a delicate knife and slide it into her aching heart? It only made her more determined to leave.
She fervently shook her head… again.
The woman felt his presence just beside her; he was most likely kneeling in place. "If you are not Erilys, then who pray tell… who are you? Leliana?" There was a slight pause, "Zevran?"
She bit her lip hard. Damn him and his charming humor. There wasn't much point in hiding any longer though her stubborn nature fought with her tooth and nail as her shoulders sagged in defeat. Why was she fighting this to begin with? It had been her firm push that had made his "infidelity" tonight happen… She had fooled herself into thinking that one night would be fine if it meant she could have her sweet happily ever after with the man she had come to cherish.
How positively naïve of her.
"I take the slouch a sign of surrender then?" She delivered a slight nod. "Good. I would hate to alarm the house if someone was trying to keep me imprisoned in my own room, although I highly recommend a different method altogether, friend." Alistair pulled the woman in his lap, blanket and all. "Is it alright if I unmask my would-be assailant?"
As she nodded, he gently pulled the blanket down.
Without saying a word he held her tightly, his head buried in the crook of her neck. It seemed there would be no witty lines to remark the tangled mess of her hair. She hadn't expected the strength of his embrace but it was as if… in his arms he was attempting to relay something that couldn't be expressed in words and somehow she was at the edge of understanding what he was trying to say.
She brushed her cheek against his in response. Would he understand the apology in such a small gesture? He felt so fresh… smelled so clean. Her eyes flew open and regarded the arm that held her tightly. His skin was blotchy and smooth as if someone had tortured him with the roughest sponge in all the land. Her hands reached up to touch his hair and to her surprise and satisfaction it was still damp. Yet why was she so afraid to speak?
Thumb and forefinger maneuvered her chin so her gaze would meet his. His dark brown eyes were full of so many things: love, sorrow, apology, tenderness and understanding. It was all so much that it broke away at the fragile façade of calm and stoicism that had been slowly piecing itself together. "Alistair, I-"
"Shhhh. No words from you, my love. We'll talk about it tomorrow I think that ah… It... it is too soon. I apologize if I'm being presumptuous and assuming but aside from what happened this… this is our last night before the final push and… all I want to do is hold you." He gently touched his forehead to hers, his voice a hoarse whisper, "When I look at you, I see a woman who fell into my life and made so much right in my simple little world. If for one moment you doubt the love I hold for you after all that you and I have been through then I…" His lips brushed the small wound she had inflicted upon herself earlier in the evening. Such tenderness! He pulled back and regarded her with such naked adoration, "I have not been conveying it as properly as a man madly in love should."
He held her as he brought them both up from the floor. He arched an eyebrow as he swept the blanket away from her shoulders, revealing the thin chemise beneath. There she stood before him as a woman, no customary plate armor to unclasp and unbuckle. "Maker's breath, you're beautiful."
And with that his lips were upon hers in such urgency she had to cling to him lest she fall back. How she loved how he tasted, how he smelled! So wrapped up in the kiss, she hadn't realized they had been moving to his bed. As the edge of the bed touched the back of her knees, Erilys broke the kiss and regarded him; the question was there in her dark green eyes. He simply answered by removing his night shirt and pressing her hands to his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed as she felt the rhythmic beating of his heart.
Her fingers slipped from his grasp and with a lady's grace she discarded the chemise from her person. The hungry look in Alistair's eyes was more than enough to let her know he liked her reply. Ritual be damned, if this possibly was their last night together this would be their night! And Erilys was more than determined to make sure her Alistair would remember it for the rest of his life.