CHAPTER TWO
Not on the guest list
Officially, Alistair's birthday gift to Salana was a magnificent, white Antivan stallion.
" A mount," he had said. " Truly befitting the Maker's Example."
He peered up at where she sat sidesaddle on the bare back of the majestic animal, sunlight highlighting the slight auburn tinge to her hair, that glowed like a halo. There were few who could do such a creature justice, but the regal equine beast lifted his head nobly and tried.
High tea with the Circle mages had been far more relaxed than they had both anticipated, with Wynne and Irving helping to make what could have been yet another stuffy engagement, much more of a celebration. Though of course the mages in the upper echelons of Circle hierarchy wanted a chance to quiz Salana about her time as a shade, and what it was like inhabiting the body of a Genlock, it seemed that they actually had more respect for her personal space than the Divine's Chantry representatives.
Both Salana and Alistair used the time that had been scheduled for the private audience with Fergus to catch their breaths and be 'people' rather than objects of attention. The envoy from the Tevinter Imperium would also need dealing with, but that could wait until tomorrow; the slaves, meanwhile, had already been offered a comfortable place to rest for the time being, pending investigation into their origins and where they might like to go.
" She's going to make me change outfits again," Salana grumbled, and Linette turned her head to indicate that she had heard, despite being on the other side of the room.
" What's wrong with the gown you're wearing now?" Fergus inquired, a typical male question.
" She's still wearing it?" Alistair perked, and for his trouble got a smack on the thigh.
Fergus was now far too used to the way it was between Salana and the king to be embarrassed by the idea of his sister naked.
" Who are you bringing to the ball?" Salana asked her brother, changing the subject.
Though it could have been an awkward question given the death of his wife and son not so long in the past, it seemed that he had taken some of her teachings to heart. It had come to her ears that Fergus had not shied away from a number of interested inquiries into his personal life, and that made Salana happy. He should move on from that period in his life that was dominated by pain, sorrow and war, and allow himself the chance for happiness once more.
" Actually, I hadn't planned on taking anyone," he replied rather evasively.
" Well that simply will not do," Linette declared most adamantly. " You're her Majesty's brother. Who do you expect to dance with?"
" I was rather hoping that I wouldn't have to dance," he pointed out.
" Oh no," Salana sniffed. " If Alistair and I have to dance, you have to dance too."
" He can dance with Linette," Alistair piped up, before swallowing a mouthful of wine.
" That is such a good idea," Salana grinned. " And I have just the gown to squeeze you into."
By the fall of night, the grand hall of Denerim Palace was filled with music and glittering with light. Alistair had already made his entrance, along with his brother in law, but no one was really interested in them, not tonight. Dignitaries both local and from abroad imbibed copious amounts of wine at Ferelden's expense, but it seemed to have relaxed some of the tension; Eamon and Celene swirled past the king, who blinked at just how light the old man was on his toes.
" This is truly surreal," Fergus exhaled. " That woman tried to kill you both, nearly started a war and now she's just floating around like Orlais and Ferelden are best friends?"
" It's not Celene I'm worried about," Alistair dropped, smiling and nodding his head as a couple of women curtsied to him. " But promise me, if the Divine corners me, you'll put an arrow in my eye?"
Fergus chuckled, but straightened his back when Linette emerged swathed in a tightly corseted gown in ice blue satin, her expression suggesting that she was having trouble breathing.
" Good evening your Majesty, your Grace," she curtsied a little breathily, and was only just saved from toppling over as Fergus caught her hand.
" I take it that Salana was not joking when she said she was going to squeeze you into a gown?" Alistair laughed.
" I had no idea," she breathed. " That such garments designed for royalty could also be used for torture."
Trumpets suddenly called the congregation to attention, and all eyes turned to the double doors at the far end of the ballroom that had been closed over following Linette's arrival.
" That's my cue," Alistair dropped, and began down the very center of the large room, the contact of his boots on the highly polished floor, loud against the silence that had fallen.
" Her royal Majesty," an attendant just to the right of the doors announced clearly. " Blessed One, Maker's Example," he continued, and the doors opened inward. " Hero of all Thedas, Salana Cousland."
People had been poised to applaud, but as Salana stepped into view and drifted beneath the arch, appearing to barely touch the ground, the silence endured; even Alistair, who had been approaching to join her, stopped in his tracks to stare.
Her dark glossy hair framed her face with curls, and the delicate, draping folds of her golden gown fluttered gently about her though there was no noticeable breeze present. Alistair had seen the dress that Celene had sent as a birthday gift, standing in Salana's dressing room, but it had not glowed the way it glowed now, had not looked so radiant as it did now, wrapped around his wife who was the undeniable source of its true brilliance.
" Nice job," Fergus whispered quietly to Linette, who was beaming proudly as the king finally regained his senses, and greeted his wife with the offering of his arm.
" Have I told you lately just how beautiful you are?" Alistair inquired quietly, as Salana coiled her arm lightly around his and motioned them slowly forwards.
" Once or twice," she grinned, but was sweeping her gaze across the spellbound crowd.
" You could ask these people," he whispered on. " The leaders, the ruling class, the aristocracy of Thedas to fall down on bended knee before you, and right now, they would not think twice before complying."
" I already have what I want," she replied softly, turning to look at him directly, the pair of them standing face to face in the centre of the massive ballroom with the whole world peering at them in awe.
" I have one more gift to give you," Alistair told her, a little louder, though still only those near them would have heard. " I wanted to give you something that meant more than just wealth," he went on, his voice slowly gaining volume; he wanted all of Thedas to know how much he loved her. " But none of the heirlooms that I have inherited from my father, have any significance to, or importance in, my life."
Salana inhaled slowly; Alistair seemed to have learned how to build up to a powerful point, no doubt thanks to Eamon's coaching.
" There is only one thing that I have from my life before meeting you," the king continued, releasing her in order to reach behind his own neck, from which he removed what had been fastened there. " I broke this, that was my mothers', in anger," he declared. " Pieced back together by a man with great patience and then found and given to me by you, because you knew how much it meant to me."
Alistair held up his mother's amulet, a silver emblem of Andraste's Flame, but Salana looked past it into Alistair's eyes, rewarding him with a smile that touched more than her lips.
" It's not gold, or jewels," Alistair said. " But it is the closest thing to a physical representation of my heart, that I have."
Salana swallowed the lump in her throat. The way he looked at her, the way he hovered, seeming almost not sure, even now, that she would approve, reminded her of the innocent man that she had met what seemed like so long ago.
She eased his uncertainty by leaning forward, and with a relieved breath, Alistair laid the chain around Salana's throat and closed the clasp; but it was only when she stepped forward against him and thanked him with a passionate kiss, that the onlookers finally began to clap.
It took the loud and jovial commencement of music to break the embracing pair apart, but they did not separate any more than they needed to, to walk. It was clear to all that they were deeply in love, a love almost as rare as a blessing from Andraste herself, and Salana and Alistair had that as well.
Lords and ladies took every opportunity to steal time to talk with the pair of monarchs before the banquet, and dance with them after. Through extravagant swirls of expensive fabric, sparkling embellishments and fake smiles, Alistair occasionally caught sight of his wife in the arms of other men, but he still felt no jealousy.
It did, however, bring Nathaniel to mind; Anora's child would now have to be six months old but there had been no real news from the three Grey Wardens on her trail, nor from any of the trackers Celene had supposedly employed.
He was almost afraid of what would happen when, if, Nathaniel arrived back in Denerium with Anora in shackles and a baby in his arms. The baby was his, and so he had an obligation to it whether he liked its mother or not, but at the same time there was Salana to consider; a living symbol of how he had been tricked by Anora would be bad enough, but an ever present reminder to Salana of her inability to carry a child to term?
That might prove to be too much.
" Excuse me Bann Eddelbrek," Alistair said politely, having managed to escape the clutches of some visiting luminary, and intercede with the man who had demanded the attentions of his wife for far too long. " But I am going to have to requisition my lovely queen."
" Of course your Majesty," Eddelbrek smiled; the man had plenty to smile about as well. Though Salana had prompted a conspiracy against her when she sent troops to protect farmland, instead of bolstering numbers within Amaranthine City as Bann Esmerelle had wanted, Esmerelle's demise during the failed assassination attempt upon Salana had handed Eddelbrek everything on a silver platter. With the conspirators dead, Salana had allowed him to take Esmerelle's position as Bann of Amaranthine City, and since she had not abandoned it to the darkspawn during the Mother's raid, there had been plenty there for him to inherit.
Salana let out a somewhat relieved breath as Alistair swept her in a graceful circle, his cheek lightly touching hers, but she knew that just because she was safe in his arms, that the rest of the guests weren't just waiting for the moment he let go.
" I think what we need is some fresh air," Alistair mused as if reading her mind, and effortlessly he turned them toward the balcony doors.
The night air was crisp, prickling across Salana's exposed skin, but she knew Alistair would keep her warm. The guards had closed the large glass doors behind the royal pair, so though those within the grand ballroom could still see them, they had more privacy than they had had all evening.
" Think anyone would notice if we just, dropped over the balcony and ran away together?" Salana inquired as Alistair guided her to the balustrade and wrapped his arms around her waist.
" I think it's a little late to elope," he pointed out, his chin resting against her shoulder, his lips lightly brushing her ear as he spoke. " Besides, you're supposed to be used to all of this," he went on lightly. " I'm the one who was raised sheltered in the Chantry."
" Oh far too much has transpired for you to play the sheltered card," she chuckled, giving him a nudge in the ribs with her elbow. " And besides having seen you fight, among other things, I'm sure that Duncan taught you some bad habits."
" That man was a noble gentleman," Alistair sniffed with mock indignation.
" No one with an accent that sensual could possibly be that innocent," she grinned, and Alistair promptly turned her around, a mild frown twisting his eyebrows at funny angles.
" You thought his accent was sensual?" he perked. " Because, I could speak with an accent if I wanted to."
Salana just smirked at him.
" Oh I see, you're just winding me up," he huffed. " And all because I won't elope with you is that it?"
Salana opened her mouth to explain, but both she and Alistair looked sharply back through the glass into the ballroom when the sound of shouting caught their attention. When all eight guards standing along the inside of the ballroom's full length windows unsheathed their swords and left their posts, both Alistair and Salana simultaneously reached for their own.
" I knew I should have been allowed to wear my armor," Salana grumbled, feeling especially useless in all that dainty material.
" Who would dare attack the palace tonight of all nights?" Alistair growled, moving back in through the glass doors, before beginning to weave through the crowd with Salana right behind him.
" Get your hands off me!" came a woman's voice from outside the double doors. " I am personal friends of the king and queen and they wouldn't be happy if they knew you were man-handling me like this!"
" Oh no," Alistair dropped, his shoulders slumping.
" It couldn't be," Salana blinked, and the guard standing closest to her turned his head.
" Majesties?"
" Open the doors," Alistair instructed, and the man complied, revealing a number of palace guards struggling with a slim brunette, her pale, golden eyes flashing with warning.
" Ahh, Alistair," the woman smiled salaciously, ceasing her struggling and lolling her head back a little. " Be a dear and call off the hounds?"
" Morrigan," Salana exhaled, neither she or Alistair giving the soldiers instructions to release her, much to her disdain.
" I'm not allowed to come and wish the Maker's Example many happy returns on her birthday?" the maleficar perked innocently, making eye contact with Salana in a pointed fashion, before moving her gaze to Alistair.
" Let her go," Alistair said after another rather tense moment, and Morrigan corrected the positioning of her clothing before flashing that disarming smile, beneath which the king knew all kinds of ulterior motives lurked.
" Stand down," Salana nodded to the rest of the guards, and they returned their weapons to their sides. " Please," she went on, turning back to her guests with a bright smile of her own. " Continue to enjoy yourselves, the night is still young."
The crowd, however, watched both the king and queen move out into the corridor until the doors closed in behind them.
" Well, isn't this a happy reunion?" Morrigan grinned. " Though I honestly can't believe they let you be king," she went on, shaking her head as she now looked from Alistair to Salana. " Or that you married him. Whatever happened to that lovely Antivan fellow?"
" How did you even get in here?" Alistair puzzled.
" Well I told the guards at the gates that I was on the guest list," she explained conversationally. " But they insisted that I show them my invitation which, I assume, just got lost somewhere between here and… me."
" That doesn't explain how you got past them," Alistair pointed out, motioning that she move through the indicated door into an empty room, Salana following.
" Well, when you can shape shift into a giant spider, you're not especially concerned with walls you know?" Morrigan answered cheerfully.
The door closed, and Salana beat Alistair to the next question.
" Not that we're not thrilled to see you Morrigan," she frowned lightly, though she was trying not to. " If I remember correctly, part of our arrangement was that we never come looking for you…"
" Right, and you haven't, which was very sporting of you," Morrigan chirped.
" Which," Alistair picked up. " Suggested that we weren't ever going to see you again?"
" Oh Alistair, you are a simple creature, hmm or is that an insult to simple creatures?"
" Morrigan," Salana leveled. " As much as I'd like to believe you're just here to wish me a happy birthday, why are you really here?"
" Well," Morrigan began, and Alistair pre-empted her winding up to some elaborate, convoluted story filled with all manner of twists and turns and snide remarks about his manhood.
" The clearer you make your answer, the sooner you can get what you want and leave," he told her bluntly, but this did nothing to dampen her smile.
" Mmm, maybe you have taught him a thing or two," she grinned at Salana, before beginning again. " I recently heard that the Tevinter Imperium discovered an ancient artifact of significant power."
" How significant?" Alistair scowled.
" Oh," she smirked, narrowing her eyes on him. " Very significant, so significant in fact, that I'm confident you definitely don't want this in the hands of the Imperium, after all, they were responsible for bringing about the first blight."
" What is it, and why would you care if the Imperium has it?" Salana inquired.
" It's rumored to be a key," Morrigan answered. " But not just any key. This key opens the doors to the gates of the Black City."
Both Alistair and Salana just stared at Morrigan for several long moments.
" Both of you had better just calm down, or Alistair is sure to wet himself," the apostate sniffed sarcastically.
" You're kidding aren't you?" Alistair dropped, finally remembering to blink.
" Known for my witty repartee as I am… no," Morrigan replied.
" The key to the Black City in the hands of the fools who corrupted it in the first place?" Salana thought out loud, her voice expressing just how horrifying that idea was.
" That's what I'm saying," Morrigan nodded enthusiastically. " And of course when I found out, I knew that you would want to do something about it."
" Riiiiight, out of the goodness of your, wait no that can't be right," Alistair noted. " What do you expect to get out of this?"
" Alistair, such cynicism," Morrigan chided, those haunting eyes glittering mischievously. " What I get out of this, is the knowledge that those Tevinter morons don't go meddling with power they clearly have no idea how to wield."
" But you do," Salana prompted.
" Oh now I never said that, but don't confuse me for someone with no interest in what secrets the Black City might hold."
" No chance of that," Alistair dropped.
Before Morrigan could continue, there was a knock on the door.
" Enter," Alistair said curtly, expecting it to be one of his soldiers. It was, however, Eamon, who had met Morrigan before, even if only really in passing.
" Pardon the interruption Majesties," he said politely. " But some of your guests are readying to retire."
" Tomorrow morning, before we leave," Alistair declared, addressing Morrigan as he offered his wife his arm. " We'll discuss this further."
Morrigan didn't seem all that fussed and just gave a shrug.
" I'll be here, round abouts," she smiled, and there was no doubting that she would be.
Quiet had finally settled upon the palace, and completely exhausted, Linette moved down the corridor towards the royal residence. As beautiful as the gown that Salana had loaned to her for the evening had been, she had been exceptionally relieved to slip back into her much more comfortable livery.
The king and queen had retired, also looking very weary, and so Linette tiptoed quietly across the antechamber and slipped into the queen's dressing room through the side entrance. As she settled the dress over a naked mannequin, smoothing the soft satin and lacing the bodice at the back, something made her pause.
The sound was faint, muffled, but it was there, and it caused a frown to crease the woman's brow. Despite her own fatigue, this was one sound that she could never ignore.
At first glance the bathing chamber appeared to be empty, especially in the dimness, but as Linette moved inward, the light from the candelabra she carried touched a set of bare feet.
" Your Majesty!" she hissed, rushing forward to crouch before the huddled woman, who looked instantly embarrassed and appalled at being discovered sobbing in the dark. " Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Clearly she was not all right, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her nightgown pulled around her. Angry at herself, she scrubbed her face with the back of her hands like a child, and tried to answer before the next gulping breath shook her body.
" How can I tell him?" she gasped, barely even feeling her attendant's hands as they tried to warm hers. " Linette, how?"
" How can you tell him what?" Linette scowled, and the queen's shuddering stopped as she fixed her swimming eyes on the other woman's face.
" What name shall I give this one?" Salana whispered thickly, tears dripping from the point of her chin. " And how big… should I make the pyre?"
" Oh," Linette exhaled, as Salana hung her head. " Perhaps this time will be different."
" Both times before, I have heard this small voice in my dreams," the queen wept, dropping her forehead against Linette's hands. " And every night, it gets more, and more, quiet, until… until… what am I supposed to do? Stay away from Alistair? Not let him touch me?"
" His Majesty loves you," Linette assured her, brushing her hair back. " He does not blame you for this."
" The Divine is right," Salana sobbed. " I am a fraud."
" No," Linette hissed, but Salana continued.
" What example am I of the Maker, who wails for this fate He imposes upon me? Have I not said seek no reward? Have I not said sacrifice? And yet I cannot see any worth is this, I cannot see anything but someone who has served, and given, and given, and yet still, still, He reaches within me and, and rips from my womb what happiness I would have for myself and my king."
Morrigan's reappearance had also reminded her that Alistair had fathered not one, but two children inside of two years, and it was salt ground into an already gaping wound.
" Why does…?" she began again, but she could not possibly finish that sentence without giving Alistair away.
When she looked up, Linette's heart broke; Salana's eyes were wide, open windows through which the lady in waiting could see to her very center, far beneath the untouchable, stalwart, unbreakable exterior that the wider world knew her for. Naked and bleeding, the queen was being torn between the expectations of those who had placed her upon a towering pedestal, and her human soul that felt as anyone would in her position; why was one who had given so much, punished so harshly?
" What happens," Salana croaked thickly. " When they see what a hypocrite I am?" When they realise that I cannot live by my own words? If I am hope, then what will become of Thedas when they see I have none?"
Linette wanted to be able to tell her queen that Thedas would never see, but she could not; though there was no doubt in her mind that Salana was the Maker's Example, the debate remained as to whether she was herself divine. Linette saw a woman, albeit a noble woman, burdened by the kind of responsibilities that could easily crush entire armies of battle hardened men; eventually, despite her best intentions, she would break, and the consequences for the world would be grave.
Perhaps that would be the Maker's final test.
" Promise me that you will not tell his Majesty," Salana hissed, gripping Linette's arms suddenly, panic flashing brightly across her face.
" His Majesty wants to support you," Linette reasoned. " He is a Grey Warden also, the taint is a weight he must also carry."
" Linette!" Salana gasped, a queen, begging. " Promise me that you will not tell him."
Linette inhaled a slow breath. She knew that Salana's reasons for wanting to keep this from her husband were not selfish, but also that her desire to carry the secret of her ultimately doomed third pregnancy, was a prime example of why in the end, Salana would buckle.
" Of course you have my word, your Majesty," Linette smiled sadly, gently brushing moist strands of hair from her lady's face. " Come on," she then urged. " Let's clean you up and get you back to bed."
