**A/N**: This is dedicated to redrosemary. Happy Holidays!
Chapter 2
Their welcome to Highever was a warm one. Common-folk swarmed their procession and followed them to the castle's gates. The arl sat taller in his saddle as he smiled and waved at the crowd, giving the king a sidelong glance before returning his full attention to the on-lookers. Cheering men and laughing children rang in Alistair's ears until he too found himself smiling and waving at his subjects. Only when the gates shut behind him did his smile fade.
He ignored the shaking of his legs as he dismounted, though their stiffness would not so easily be dismissed. The heat that greeted him upon entering the castle was a welcome sensation. The overwhelming scent of smoke that followed, however, was not. Whether it was emanating from the hearth ahead or from the charred stone walls surrounding them, he wasn't sure. He looked to his uncle, who seemed unfazed, and decided not to mention it.
Alistair's eyes watered as he suppressed the urge to cough. "Presenting His Majesty, King Alistair Theirin, and Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe," a voice boomed when Alistair stopped walking and looked down to wipe his eyes.
When he looked up again, Alistair saw a man who could only be the teryn approaching. Though he walked with a minor limp, he carried himself with the air of a man bred for nobility. Yet, as he got closer, his eyes gave the impression that he had seen his share of hardship too. The scars on his face gave it credence.
"Your Majesty," he began with a smile, followed by a bow. "Your presence in Highever is an honor, indeed," the teryn's voice exuded the perfect mixture of authority, confidence, and hospitality.
Alistair immediately envied the man. "The honor is mine, Teryn Cousland," he managed after clearing his throat.
"Fergus, please, Your Grace," his smile broadened. "We're to be brothers soon, after all, I hope," he gave the king a wink.
"Of course," Alistair gave a nervous laugh, tugging at his collar.
Fergus merely laughed then turned his attention to the arl. "Eamon! It's been some time, my friend," he beamed, clasping the older man's shoulders.
"Fergus, my lad, it's great to see you well. The leg is healing nicely, I take it," Eamon inquired, looking down as he did so.
"As nice as it's going to, so the healers say. I'm told that I'll have a limp for the rest of my days," he replied, following Eamon's gaze to his leg. "A small price to pay," he finished with a smile.
Eamon chose not to linger on the subject, "So, it's true what they say about your sister, then? She led your men at the Battle of Denerim"?
"That she did. My men swear by the Maker that without her, they would have been overrun," the teryn stood a bit taller as he talked of his sister. "Truth be told, I don't think I could have done any better myself."
Eamon sent Alistair a look that gave the king an overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, then returned his attention to Fergus, "She sounds like a fine warrior, to be sure."
"She is. Father—would have been proud," his face fell, and he lowered his head slightly.
Eamon in turn placed a hand on the teryn's shoulder. The Hall was silent for a moment, making Alistair shift his weight from one foot to the other. "Of that I have no doubt," the arl replied with a small smile that Fergus returned. "Where—is—the Lady Elissa, if I may ask," Eamon scanned the room before looking back at him.
Fergus hung his head and chuckled, "At the training fields, I'd wager. Since returning home, Elissa's made it her duty to drill the men daily." When Alistair and Eamon exchanged a look, he continued quickly, "But I've sent word of your arrival. She should be along soon, I assure you."
Eamon laughed, "No, no. It's quite all right. I'm simply curious as to the need, now that the Blight is over…"
"A question I've asked her many times," he sighed. "'A soldier's duty is to stay vigilant, even in peace,' she says," Fergus continued in a tone that told he had heard it one-too-many times.
At that, Alistair's head snapped to attention so sudden that it made an audible 'crack'. The two men turned to him in unison. "Did you hear something you liked, Your Majesty," Arl Eamon chuckled, causing Fergus to do the same.
"No. Er—yes. I mean—she really said that," Alistair stammered, heat rising to his cheeks.
The men continued laughing. "Repeatedly. A few days with Elissa, Your Grace, and you'll be chanting it in your sleep," Fergus replied.
Fergus and Eamon continued talking as Alistair considered this. As they began laughing once more, Alistair felt his own lip twitch upward.
