Conjunction

Chapter 3 - The Coronation


Solona gave up on sleep for the rest of the evening, instead poring over the grimoire in exhaustive detail, Lusa keeping her company and serving as a bookrest with his head in her lap. Beyond what Morrigan had already told her, she learned that there were indeed two of the Old Gods remaining in the Fade. There had been seven original Old Gods, but so far five had been corrupted in the five blights. The fifth, and the most recent Archdemon, Urthemiel, had been saved by Morrigan's ritual. One of the remaining two Old Gods was Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, who she had named her Mabari after. The other was Razikale, the Dragon of Mystery. Somehow, she needed to protect them and keep them from the darkspawn taint to prevent any further blights.

The Grimoire also told her how to do that, although the instructions were cryptic. She knew she had to summon the Old Gods' souls to the other world she would travel to, through a ritual she would perform there. There were several prophecies scattered throughout the text that she would need to decipher in order to understand the true path. Flemeth had been thorough, but still hadn't made things easy, unfortunately. There were just too many riddles to solve. If she ever saw the woman again she would strangle her for not making this easier to figure out. The prophecies spoke of the union of dragon and wolf, which was weird by itself. And of the dragon consuming the wolf's blood as part of the fulfillment of the prophecy, but she thought the "blood" was a figurative term. She hoped so anyway. And her family name was prevalent in the last prophecy, but it sounded more like a location to her than a personal identifier. It spoke of the final destination being "where highest Amell touches the sky" but didn't specify where that was. What she wanted to understand most of all was the significance of the white wolf. She saw the reference several times in the text, so it was clearly significant. She had just seen him in one of her dreams of the Old Gods. She only hoped it would all make more sense once she passed through to the other world and found this White Wolf.

Dawn was breaking finally and she realized that she had little time. Today was Alistair's coronation. She also planned to have her talk with Alistair afterwards, which she wasn't looking forward to. She eased out of bed, gingerly testing her range of motion in her upper body. She was still sore from the fight, but her wound was healed. She stepped out the door to find a maid and request a bath, then began taking inventory and repacking her things as she made a mental list of supplies she would need for her journey.

When she was preparing to dress, one of the maids came in carrying what appeared to be a pile of silk fabric. When it was hanging in front of her she cringed slightly. If Alistair thought she was wearing that monstrosity, he was sorely mistaken. She had no intention of parading in front of everyone in a fancy dress. Instead, she donned the mage's robe she'd had custom made using dragon scales they'd acquired. The tailor had been baffled by her request at first, but had agreed to craft the garments for her. The result had been a very attractive and form-fitting set of armor consisting of a deep v-necked top and an ankle-length flared skirt that was split up the thighs for mobility. She wore matching leather leggings underneath. It was all crafted from dragon hide and sequined in an intricate pattern with dragonscales. The dragonhide gloves, pauldrons, and boots that went with it included silverite guards on top of the supple dragonskin, even down to guards on each finger. It was all in a uniform black and had a reddish glow in the light, except for the guards, which were silver. Fortunately she hadn't been wearing them during the final battle, believing she needed stronger armor to face the Archdemon. Her other set of dragonscale armor had been destroyed.

When she finished dressing she regarded herself for several moments in the mirror. I'm still alive, and whole, after all this. She thought. She wondered if that in itself was a sign. She contemplated the scar from the wound the Archdemon had given her that was just barely visible where it curved over the top of her breast. She touched the raised pink flesh softly, deciding that she liked having a reminder of the ordeal, and didn't mind if others could see it, either.

A few hours later she was in the great hall watching Alistair as the Grand Cleric crowned him King of Ferelden, and wondering how the hell she was going to tell him she was leaving. Shortly afterwards, he stood in front of the large crowd and gave a short speech. She thought it would be about his goals as king, but he surprised her when he focused his eyes on hers and began to speak.

"My friends, we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim there is one in particular who deserves commendation. The one who led the charge against the Archdemon, and killed it, remains with us still. An inspiration to all she saved that day." He smiled at her warmly as she took the cue and made her way onto the dais beside him and turned to face the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Hero of Ferelden. The first Grey Warden to defeat the blight since Garahel, four centuries ago. Grey Warden," she thought she saw him smirk at the title, "it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor. Is there any boon that you might request of Ferelden's king?"

She was at a loss for words at first, then recovered herself and responded, "My liege, I thank you. If you please, there is one thing I would wish above all others. It is for the Circle of Magi to have autonomy from the Chantry."

There were a few gasps and exclamations of outrage at the idea coming from the crowd. Alistair ignored them and said, "I will see that it is done." He went on to grant the now defunct Howe's arling in Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens and then concluded the formalities indicating that the festivities should begin. Once they were no longer the center of attention, he drew Solona off to a semi-private alcove. His excitement clearly evident, he said, "So, we made it! I'm impressed, aren't you? I was so scared that I would lose you. But here you are, and here I am. Not bad, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He'd always managed to have the kind of bright attitude that was infectious. Not waiting for her to respond, he continued, "I bet this has something to do with that night, with Morrigan. Why you're still here, I mean. I'm not that dumb. The rest of the grey wardens haven't arrived yet from Orlais, but they've already sent questions."

She was slightly alarmed at this news. In a cautious tone she asked, "What questions?"

"About how you survived. What should I tell them?"

She rubbed at her brow, thinking. This could get complicated, but it wouldn't matter in a few days when she and Morrigan both disappeared from the face of Thedas. "Tell them they were wrong," she said, shrugging.

He laughed, "Yes, all you need is a maleficar willing to have your demon baby, who knew?" He shook his head, "No, I suppose I'll just keep that to myself. I can shrug and look stupid. It's a talent." He paused, then continued, "Speaking of Morrigan, do you know where she went? I'm told she vanished right after the battle. No goodbyes or anything."

"Do you really care?" she asked, skeptically.

"Me? No! Good riddance, I say." He closed the distance between them and whispered seductively in her ear, "At any rate, I can't wait to be alone with you. These formal affairs drive me insane."

His closeness made her quiver in familiar anticipation, but she grasped his hands and stepped back slightly. "Alistair," she said, gently, "We need to talk. There is something I need to tell you." He looked at her, concerned. "You know you can tell me anything, what is it?" She glanced around. They were in an alcove away from the main party, but it was hardly private. "Not here. Meet me in your chambers at sunset, okay? I think we should mingle a little first - it might look bad if we disappear together so soon."

"But Sol, I don't care what they think. You were the one who told me nobody can make a king do something he doesn't want to."

With a sigh, she said, "Alistair, it's your first day as king. I think you should try to make a good impression at least. Most of the nobles hardly know you."

He sighed. "You're right." He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "See you in a few hours then?" And he strode off purposefully towards the crowd, waving and greeting and shaking hands with nobles as he went.

Solona took the opportunity to greet the other members of their team and bid farewell to those who would be departing. She was too distracted for teary goodbyes and managed to evade most questions about her own plans, simply stating that she hadn't decided yet. She got waylaid by several eager fans wanting to hear heroic stories of her journey which she did her best to indulge. When she reached the far end of the hall she thought she caught a glimpse of a small grey dog in the shadows of one corner. When she looked closer the creature looked back at her, nodded its head once, and then ran out the door. Morrigan, she thought. Having mingled about as much as she could stand by this point, she turned and headed back into the palace towards Alistair's chambers.


She found him standing by a window in the outer room. He had changed out of his decorative armor and into a more comfortable blue doublet and trousers. He turned and smiled at her when she walked in. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. The best thing to do was just to say it, but the words caught in her throat. She felt as though a heavy weight rested in her chest where her heart should be. This man loved her and she was about to break his heart, and the knowledge tore her apart.

She walked over to the window and stood beside him, looking silently out at the courtyard below. She clenched her hands tightly at her sides, nails digging into her palms. She took a deep breath and found her voice finally, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

"Alistair, I can't stay with you," she said in a near whisper.

He turned his head to face her. He let out a soft chuckle and said, "Of course not. You can have your own room. It wouldn't look very good for the bachelor King to be shacking up with a woman he wasn't married to - a mage at that, even if she is the Hero of Ferelden." His voice softened and he added, "We'll be discreet... it's the only way for us to be together."

She grimaced at his lack of understanding.

"No. Alistair. I can't stay in Denerim," she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. She turned to face him and met his gaze with a pleading look.

His brow creased in confusion and his eyes searched hers. "Of course you can, I need you here with me, Sol. I can't do this King thing without you."

With a note of sadness, she said, "Alistair, this is no place for me. It would be little better than if I were to go back to the Circle. You mean so much to me, but I can't just languish here for the sake of being near you. I need more... I need to do more than just be a king's mistress."

She saw the muscles of his jaw spasm as he clenched his teeth. His look turned into an angry glare and he choked out his words, "But you said you would stay. I would never have agreed to be king if you weren't going to be here with me."

Her voice wavered, but she spoke with certainty. "We need to do what's best for Ferelden. I realize now that doesn't involve us staying together. As much as I care for you, I could never be your queen, Alistair, even if I wanted to. You must be king, and eventually you must choose a queen." She took a deep, ragged breath and continued, speaking the words that she hoped would drive it home for him as much as she hated to hear herself speak them. "And it will be better if I'm out of the picture entirely when that happens."

"No!" he snapped so savagely it made her flinch. "What's bloody best for Ferelden is if you stay. You're the Hero, Ferelden needs you. I need you! I forbid it. Solona, I'm King and I... I forbid it." His voice grew desperate and shaky at the end, losing conviction as he realized he could never forbid this woman anything.

She watched in anguish as the mountain of strength and kindness before her began to crumble. Tears began to well up in his eyes and he screwed them tightly shut in an attempt to hold back the flood, but his chest began to spasm softly and a small sob escaped.

The tightness in her own chest gripped her painfully and she felt tears begin to well up in her own eyes. She reached out to him, raising one hand to cup his face gently and stroke away the wetness beginning to creep over his cheeks.

"Alistair," she spoke tenderly through her own tears that were falling unchecked down her face. "Shhh... Alistair, it will be alright." He shook his head vigorously in denial and grabbed her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her leather-clad shoulder and weeping like a child.

They stood and wept in each other's arms, Alistair sobbing softly as she held him, her own quietly falling tears soaking into the fabric of the quilted velvet covering the sturdy shoulder beneath her cheek. She clung to him as tightly as he clung to her. This would likely be the last time they would ever hold each other, she thought, and was gripped by another wave of sadness.

After several moments his weeping subsided and she felt a subtle but recognizable shift in his hold on her. His large hands drifted down her back and his crying against her neck became gentle nuzzling. She let out a quiet sigh when she felt his lips against her throat, trailing soft, fervent kisses up to her lips which he captured savagely with his own. She groaned against him, the desperate need building in her abruptly as she felt his own need pressing against her. It struck them both with the speed and force of a late summer thunderstorm and they gave in as they always had, letting the hunger of their tainted blood drive them past their despair and into the realm of frenzied lust made all the stronger for their mutual desolation.

They stripped in hurried desperation and fell to the floor in a tangle of naked limbs, caressing and grasping and biting each other, finally joining together in a crash that they realized later had been the sound of a decorative pot being knocked off its stand by a stray elbow or foot, shattering on the carpeted floor behind them.

Afterward they lay spent, sweaty and panting on the carpet amidst the detritus of their scattered garments and shards of the broken pot. Alistair propped himself on one elbow and gazed at her tear-stained face where she faced him from the floor.

"What will I do without you, Sol?" he asked, his tone so full of abject misery it made her heart clench inside her chest. She turned towards him and propped herself on one elbow, reaching up with one hand to stroke the scruff on his strong jaw.

She gave him a sad smile. "You'll be king, as you were meant to be. And you'll be fantastic at it, and everyone will love you. That's what you'll do."

He picked up her hand in his and laid a gentle kiss in the center of her palm, then surveyed the room around them. He sighed and said, "Maybe you're right. It's probably safer for the decor if we aren't both living here, I think." She laughed ruefully but looked mildly chagrined, "I hope that wasn't an expensive piece of art. You're going to need every resource available to rebuild the city."

"Ugh. Not going to think about that now. No more King stuff for the rest of the day. Um... night, I mean," he said looking out the window at the growing darkness. He turned back to her and watched her for a long time in the dim light, as though trying to memorize every inch of her features. He brought one hand up and toyed with a short strand of her hair.

"You should let it grow out. It really is very pretty," he said, and let his fingertips trail from her temple softly down the side of her face.

She wrinkled her nose at this and ran her fingers through her hair making it stand on end. "You don't think it makes me look old? It's whiter than Wynne's!"

Alistair replied, "It's unusual, but I only knew you for a few hours before … before you woke up from your Joining and it was like this. I can't imagine you without it now."

He cupped her face in his large hand and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. He spoke in a whisper, "Sol, if I never see you again, I will always picture you just as you are at this moment. You're beautiful. White hair and scars and everything."

His eyes dropped to her chest and he his hand drifted down to trace her scar gently with one finger, still amazed that she had survived.

"It's just a scratch," she joked and said wistfully, "another trophy to remember our time together."

A sudden gleam came into his eyes and he snapped his fingers. A wide grin spread over his features that was at odds with the stray tears still dampening his cheeks. She gave him a look of perplexed amusement.

"Speaking of trophies," he said as he stood up abruptly, "I have a present for you." He was suddenly slightly giddy with excitement. He wiped the tears from his eyes and lit a small lamp, then fairly skipped over to a nearby bookcase to find something that was stashed behind some books. She propped her head in her hand and watched as he moved across the room, smiling faintly and admired his bare, muscular backside in the flickering lantern light as he stood fishing for his treasure. She was going to miss him terribly.

A moment later he brought a small package back to her, a brilliant smile still lighting up his face.

He lay down next to her again, propped up on one elbow with the gift in his hands. Whatever this was it must be good if he was so proud of it. She smiled back at him indulgently and took the box. She turned and lay back so both hands were free, resting the box on her bare stomach while she untied the small, red ribbon and ripped off the delicate paper. When she opened the box and saw what was inside, she sat up abruptly, a look of disbelief on her face. Inside the box was a round ivory amulet, and on its smooth surface was an exquisitely etched scene of a dragon and wolf, rampant, with a high mountain behind them.

Alistair's face fell when she failed to say a word after a few moments of staring at the gift, "You hate it don't you."

She was still speechless for several beats, then managed to say, "No... oh, Alistair! I love it! This is amazing!" Looking up at him again, she asked in disbelief, "Where did you find this?"

"Oh. Well." He puffed out his chest in pride. "It's actually a piece of the tooth I kept from the Archdemon. Bodahn said that Sandal had some skill at carving. I asked him to carve a dragon on it, like the Archdemon, but I think he tried to add a picture of Lusa, too... although that doesn't really look like a Mabari," he said looking at the amulet skeptically. "But he seemed so excited to be making something for the 'pretty dragon lady' and was so proud of it I hated to tell him he got it wrong. He said he also put a special enchantment on it, but he wouldn't tell me what, he just kept saying 'enchantment!' like he does and that it was for the pretty dragon lady."

She turned it over and saw two tiny runes she didn't recognize etched on the back of the ivory disc. One of them glowed slightly. She tried to sense what magic it had on it, but still couldn't discern what the enchantment might be. Finally she handed it to Alistair, "Put it on me, please?" and turned around so he could place the amulet around her throat and close the clasp at the back of her neck.

She heard him ask quietly from behind her, his voice quavering, "So, where are you going to go?"

She stiffened and looked at the floor, "I... I'm leaving Ferelden, Alistair. That's all I can tell you."

He gave her a skeptical look. "What should I tell the Grey Wardens if they ask? I think they had plans to promote you to Warden Commander and send you off to Amaranthine. You wouldn't have to stay in Denerim if you did that... and you'd be great at it."

She turned to face him again, the amulet heavy against her collarbone. She shook her head and shrugged, "They'll have to find someone else to do that job. Tell them... I don't know, tell them I developed a death wish after killing the Archdemon and went off hunting wolves … and dragons."

He looked shocked at this. "You aren't really going off to hunt dragons, are you? I mean... not that you couldn't or anything."

She met his gaze and thought briefly about telling him the truth, but knew he wouldn't understand, so she settled for a fabricated version of the truth that he might be able to grasp. "I just feel like … I don't know, like it's my destiny to do more to try to help end the blights once and for all. I need to search for whatever information I can to find out if that's possible."

"But surely if that's what you want to do the Grey Wardens would want to help you," he said. "Are you going to the Anderfels? To Weisshaupt Fortress? Is that it? You could have told me that, you know."

"No..." she said with a small shake of her head.

"To Tevinter then? That's where they say it all started, anyway. With the magisters. I suppose it would make more sense to start there."

She studied him intently for a moment and shrugged, lowering her gaze, not wanting to lie to him outright. She heard him sigh in relief, apparently accepting her noncommittal response as a 'yes'.

She saw his hand come up and felt his fingertips gently brush her cheek again. The familiar gesture caused her to smile and simultaneously a fresh wash of emotion rose up in her chest.

"When are you leaving," he asked quietly, his voice beginning to betray his own sadness again.

"Tomorrow, after I buy supplies," she said and reached out to grasp his hand where it rested on the carpet between them.

After a pause he said imploringly, "Sol, please stay with me, just for tonight... just one more night."

She met his gaze and nodded. She could give him one more night.


Next Chapter: In which a portal is open.