Zevran entered Alistair's study without knocking. Alistair, still sitting at his desk, was practically buried in papers, writing at a frantic and harried pace. He looked up as the assassin entered and began to rise. "She's back? How is she?" he asked. Zevran waved him back down and dropped into the chair across from Alistair's desk.
"She is fine," he said. "Cold, tired, hungry, irritated. You are in for a thrilling night, I think, your Majesty." Smiling briefly, Zevran continued, "I've taken care of the first three, but I'm afraid both of you disapprove when I try to help her with the last one." Alistair scrubbed a hand through his already disheveled hair and nodded, not even bothering to scowl at Zevran's usual comments on his relationship. That was a bad sign, Zevran knew. He could usually get a rise out of the younger man and it was good for a few laughs, but Alistair had far more serious things on his mind.
Alistair looked at the papers before him in disgust and threw the pen down. "Enough. If anything still needs to be done, I'll finish it in the morning. I might as well go talk to her now." He stood up, opening a drawer in the desk to remove a single opened letter; a letter which still bore bits of gray sealing wax on it. He paused before opening the door, looking at the elf still lounging in the chair. "Zevran, I would appreciate it if you could meet me here around dawn tomorrow. There are…things I need to discuss with you."
Zevran's eyebrows rose. The young man was far more serious than Zevran was used to seeing, grave even. Whatever he wanted to discuss, it would likely be big. "But of course, Alistair. At dawn then," he said, also getting to his feet and following the king out of the room. The two men walked in companionable silence until reaching the split in the hallway that would take them in different directions. Zevran reached out a hand to stop Alistair before he walked away, and Alistair looked at him questioningly.
"Be gentle with her, Alistair. Our fearless Grey Warden is not always as tough as she seems, especially when it concerns you." Alistair didn't reply, just nodded and touched Zevran's shoulder briefly in thanks.
Alistair's steps slowed as he neared the royal apartments. He was so tired. The last few days had reminded how deeply he both loved and needed his wife. And now he was only going to be with her for one short night before they were parted again. He wanted nothing more to just go in and hold her until morning, but that wasn't going to happen. There was a lot he had to tell her, and she wasn't going to like any of it.
Quietly, he entered and stood for a moment looking at the center of his world. She was sitting at the table in their room with the remains of a veritable feast spread before her. Wrapped in a soft robe, she was reading one of the missives that had arrived while she was away. The rose he had given her so long ago was held gently in her hand, still as fresh as the day he had picked in Lothering. He wondered what magic kept it like that. Sensing him, she looked up and put both rose and letter on the table. Then she was suddenly in his arms. Her hair was still damp, she smelled of soap, and her hands and mouth were very inquisitive. Alistair allowed himself to be lost in her embrace for awhile, her nearness as intoxicating as ever after a long absence.
Eventually, however, he pulled away and rested his forehead against her own briefly before guiding her back to her chair. He needed some distance from her in order to collect his thoughts. She had the most delightful effect on his brain, but this was one time he needed to think clearly. Lya made a disappointed sound low in her throat and looked towards the high bed meaningfully. "Later," he whispered huskily. "Later. But first, we need to talk."
Lya allowed herself to be guided to the table, knowing Alistair wanted to talk about what Zevran had been hinting at earlier. She couldn't help pouting a little bit though. She had missed him so much, and things had gone so poorly, she felt she deserved a little respite before the rest of the world came crashing back down on them. Alistair pressed her down into the chair, letting his hands linger in a caress along her shoulders and throat. Then fumbling the letter out of his pocket, he gave it to her. "Before anything else, read this."
She took the letter, noting the remains of the gray wax that had sealed it. Frowning, she looked at the front. No writing marred the surface of the heavy, expensive parchment. She opened the letter, smoothed it flat on the wood in front of her and began to read.
To His Most Royal Majesty, King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden,
It is our hope that this missive finds you in good health. The Grey Wardens thank you for all that you have personally done in restoring both honor and prestige to the Order in Ferelden. We sincerely hope that the events of the last couple years will usher in a new age of cooperation between the Order and governments of not just Ferelden but all of Thedas.
It is much to our regret, then, that there are still matters left unclear concerning the defeat of the most recent Blight. We know you have been much involved with the restoring of your country, and rightfully so. But matters cannot be left as they are indefinitely. We feel that Ferelden is in a position now that it does not need the full time attention of its king.
Therefore, your presence is needed in Weisshaupt. We understand that such a request is not taken lightly. We have full confidence that the rest of your government will be able to capably handle all matters that come before the throne during your stay here. We shall endeavor to make your journey as brief as possible, and to that end we have arranged for swift ships and fresh mounts to be available at all points in your journey. We do not desire your absence from your kingdom to be any longer than absolutely necessary.
Furthermore, in order to guarantee your Majesty's safety, this missive is being delivered by an honor guard of the Grey Wardens' finest members. They shall escort you for the entirety of your trip to and from Weisshaupt. We look forward to finally meeting the Hero of Ferelden in person.
Osric
First Warden
Weisshaupt
Lya read the letter through once, and then went back and reread it again slowly. Her brows knit together as she read, her lips moving silently as she went back to certain passages again. Finally, she lowered the letter back to the desk and sat thinking. Alistair let her work through it. It was a testament to her political teaching that he had been able to read through the lines to the more ominous messages hidden in the letter almost instantly.
"They are not actually asking, are they? You don't have a choice in the matter," she said slowly.
"No," he said shaking his head briefly. "That was most apparent from both the letter and the…demeanor of my 'honor guard'.
Her nostrils flared. "Do they truly think they can simply summon a sitting king any time they wish?! You are not some servant for them to order around!" she said angrily. "But then to them you are not just a king, you are also a Grey Warden. I suppose they think that takes precedence." She looked at him seriously. "They want to know why we're both still alive."
"Yes," he said heavily. "Playing stupid worked with the Orlesian Wardens for a little while, but I don't think it will work nearly so well in Weisshaupt. I wish we had been alone on top of that damned tower. Then we could have given all the credit to Riordan." He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. Maker, he was tired. "Lya," he said carefully, "we need to decide what I'm going to tell them."
She said nothing for a long time, sitting with her eyes closed and rubbing the spot between her eyebrows. It was a habit she had long before he met her and he wondered not for the first time if he should get her a worry token. He had always liked having one when he needed to think and he would rather she didn't wear the skin off her forehead.
She finally looked at him. "I think…" she began slowly, "I think you need to tell them the truth."
Alistair said nothing for a long moment, simply accepting her answer. He had known this would probably be her decision and he thought he knew why she decided on it, but he wanted to make sure he understood all of her reasons. "Why?" he asked softly. "And if I do, Lya, what happens if they go looking for Morrigan? She was your friend. Are you really willing to expose her like this?" He harbored no love for Morrigan and he tried not to think of her out there with his child. He wondered sometimes, but in his heart knew he would never set eyes on his firstborn. But for all that, he was grateful to Morrigan. Without her, he would not have this life he had now. The price she asked seemed small in comparison to that.
"Morrigan…" Lya said softly with the same expression of regret that crossed her face whenever the name of her friend was mentioned. They had been an odd pairing. The two women shared little in common, but had somehow found a connection. Lya had always thought of Morrigan as her alter self. Had Morrigan had been raised with a loving family, or had Lya been raised with a mother such as Flemeth, she could easily see them swapping places. While the two disagreed about a lot of things, there had always been the knowledge that each did whatever was necessary to protect what they loved.
"Morrigan can take care of herself," she said. "If she does not want to be found, I highly doubt the Wardens will be able to find her. And even if they did, she can take deal with it. I'm not worried about her, Alistair. She knew what she was doing. I wish no harm to her, but she is not my primary concern."
She sighed and waved a hand at the letter on the table before her. "But why are they sending for you, though? I love you, Alistair, but I am the Warden-Commander here. I am the one who slew the Archdemon. I am the one who dealt with that mess in Amaranthine last year. And while they don't know it yet, I am the one ultimately responsible for why we're alive. If anyone should go, it should be me."
He looked at her, slightly incredulously. "You can't guess?" he asked. She shook her head, her brows pulling together in confusion. He chuckled. "Ah, Lya my love, you always have a way of making me feel better. Think about it. Think about how those Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt are likely to see the two of us.
"One on hand, there's me: A bastard prince who only met his father once. A prince who didn't even set foot inside the palace until he had to in order to decide the crown. I slept in a stable until I was ten and was then sent off for templar training because my guardian's wife didn't like me. I irritated everyone there, including the Grand Cleric, and wasn't thought very highly of. I was recruited in the Grey Wardens just about by chance and only ever fought a handful of darkspawn until Ostagar. After that, the other Grey Warden I was with was kind enough to let me tag along on her grand adventure to save Ferelden. I did get to kill the Hero of Ferelden at the Landsmeet, but only because my fellow Grey Warden let me. After that, she's the one who insisted I be king.
"And then on the other hand, there's you: A daughter of Ferelden's most noble house, a child of two warriors who fought to overthrow the Orlesians. A woman who was raised from the cradle to be both warrior and leader. A woman who then fought her way out of an attempted assassination and survived the battle of Ostagar. And you were just getting started. You then spent a year traveling across Ferelden, gathering an army to defeat the Blight. Doing that required you to save a town from an undead plague, clear the Circle Tower of demons and abominations, find Andraste's ashes to cure Eamon, and let's not forget to mention that we killed a high dragon in the process. And you were just getting warmed up. You ended a centuries old werewolf curse and convinced the Dalish to fight alongside humans, went into the Deep Roads to rescue a Paragon and ended up finding two of them. You then chose a king in Orzammar, "rescued" a queen who was being held captive, rallied the nobility of Ferelden to your side, deposed said rescued queen and her regent, named the new king of Ferelden and at the same time put yourself on the throne beside him. And then you brought your army against the darkspawn horde in order to save your capital from being totally destroyed, fought your way through the city slaying darkspawn generals as you went, made it to the top of Fort Drakon where you kicked the Archdemon's ass for a bit before sticking a giant sword in its head to end the shortest Blight in history. And along the way, you managed to win the love of the common people among all three races by saving families and doing what was right. I think you might have even managed to rescue some kittens from trees. I can't be sure, though, that year is kind of a blur."
He grinned down at her, enjoying the embarrassment on her cheeks. She hated having all her accomplishments listed off like that. She always maintained that she only did what had to be done, and while he completely agreed with her, what she had had to do was staggering. His wife was a bit of a paradox like that, doing the impossible and then saying it just needed to be done.
"I didn't do those things by myself!" she burst out hotly. "You were there every step of the way and I couldn't have done most of them without you there! And don't you dare start with that nonsense about you not being capable or able to lead or any of that!"
"I know, I know, Lya, but this is how they see it. And that's not even looking at what you did in Amaranthine. When you look at it from their perspective, which of those two Grey Wardens would you want to pull away from their home and all their support to question? Which one are you going to be able to manipulate to your liking?"
Understanding dawned on her face and she looked disgusted with herself. "I'm sorry, Alistair. That didn't even occur to me and it should have." He waved off her apology.
"You're tired, love, and rightfully so. If it makes you feel any better about it, it took me a couple hours before I figured it all out, and I was well rested at the time. Anyway, that's why I figure they're sending for me." He frowned and shook his head as if dismissing a thought. "So we tell them the truth, fine. I have no idea how they'll react, but at least we won't have to worry about making sure our stories line up."
"What about what we told the Orlesians? You know, about how we had no idea?"
"Yes, well, that. I'll just say that I ordered you not to speak about it." She gaped at him and he did his best to look haughty. "After all, my dear, I do outrank you, and as you hadn't yet been appointed Commander, I was still the senior Grey Warden of Ferelden." She arched an eyebrow at him, her face effortlessly taking on a regal cast as she looked coolly at him.
"So I am to take orders from you now, am I?"
"Yes, I think so. And if you've forgotten that, then perhaps it is time for a reminder. Let's start with a simple order, shall we? As your king, I order you to come over here and give your husband a kiss."
She sighed as she got to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. "Well, if I must, I suppose I'll just have to obey a royal command. I am ever your Majesty's most faithful subject." He chuckled as their lips met and he slid his hands down her back to press her more firmly against him. They stood locked in their embrace for awhile, and her hands were just starting to do the most interesting things at the waistband of his pants when she said quietly, "You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"
Alistair stiffened and cursed softly. He had never been a very good liar and he was even worse with Lya. She could read him like a book and she always knew when he was hiding something. It went both ways, though, since he could do the same thing to her. He brushed her hair behind her ears and said, "Yes. They wanted to leave three days ago, but I said I wasn't going anywhere until you were back. They weren't happy, but they didn't try to drag me away by force."
Lya nodded and rested against his chest, enjoying the warm, solid feel of him. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt before tightening as she asked, "What else aren't you tell me?"
Careful, Alistair, the little voice in the back of his head warned. He didn't want to tell her his other fears, the ones that had plagued him since the Grey Wardens had arrived. With a sudden motion, he swept her into his arms and moved towards the bed. She threw her arms around his neck at the sudden movement, but made no attempt to resist. Alistair wanted nothing more than to lay her down on that bed and love her with all the tenderness in him, but instead he leaned against the headboard, settling her in his lap.
He held her against him, stroking her hair gently. She knew she wasn't going to like whatever was coming next. It was his 'bad news' position. They had spent many nights like this in the beginning, talking and thinking about how to deal with the myriad problems they faced. Lya just waited.
Finally, he began speaking. "I love you. You know that, right?" She nodded, but inside she shivered at that word choice, hoping it was unconscious and not a deliberate call back to those very same words she had said to him two years ago. "You are a strong woman, Lya. You are smart, cunning and resourceful. You have the respect and support of the Landsmeet. You are well liked by the Circle Magi, the dwarves in Orzammar and the elves, both in the Alienage and the Dalish. The Grey Wardens in Amaranthine are also personally loyal to you, and not just as their Commander. The people there practically worship you. You also have friends and trusted advisors who would give their lives for you."
"Why are we listing all the reasons I'm awesome, Alistair?" she asked irritably, hoping to goad him into getting to the point.
"I'm listing them because I want you to know that I know Ferelden will be in good hands if I don't come back." She twisted out of his arms, turning so she could look at him. She was clearly shocked.
"Don't come back?! What are you talking about?! Don't joke like that, Alistair! It's not funny!"
Alistair reached out to toy with the small braid that hung by her ear. "I'm not joking, Lya. I have the feeling that if this Osric doesn't like what he hears I'm not going to make it back to Ferelden."
"They wouldn't dare!"
It was his turn to arch an eyebrow at her. "Wouldn't they? They could make it look like an accident, you know. A large darkspawn raid or perhaps being caught at night by bandits. Maybe my horse will miss a step and I'll be thrown. A broken neck can certainly happen that way. Or perhaps they'll go for something closer to home and I'll be lost as sea like Maric was." Alistair sighed and pulled her back into his arms. She was upset and he didn't blame her. He was upset, too. "I've discussed this with Zevran and he agrees with me. He's not a trusting person to begin with, but he said he trusted them about as far as he could throw a chevalier and his horse, to borrow your phrase."
"But why? What could they possibly hope to gain?" she asked, clearly working her way to find some answer. She hated being this tired and not able to think straight. It made her feel like a child again, being questioned by her father at the dinner table about what she had learned from Brother Aldous that day.
"To punish us, maybe? To show that their power can reach anywhere? They seemed thrilled with what happened in Amaranthine at first; at the power what you accomplished gave the Order. But now?" He shrugged. "I think the blush is off the rose, as it were. The more I learn about them, the more I begin to realize we're not really like other Wardens, Lya. Besides the fact that if we had to choose, we would choose Ferelden over the Wardens, I think Duncan, Riordan and the others I knew were exceptions rather than the rule." He frowned. "No, that's not quite right. I think most regular Wardens are like us. But the ones in charge at Weisshaupt? I think they are very different indeed. And I don't think they like what we are very much."
She bristled with righteous anger. "Then you tell them," she snapped, "that if anything happens to you, then what I did to the Archdemon with seem like one of Zevran's massages compared to what I will do to them."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, my Lya, I have no doubt that you could assault Weisshaupt Fortress singe-handedly and probably win, but you wouldn't be free to do that and you know it." He placed a finger on her lips so he could finish. "And you couldn't bring an army," he continued. "We both know Ferelden is too weak to go waging war against the Wardens a thousand miles away right now. And even with relations with Orlais improving to slightly more than chilly, we're still maintaining close watches in the Frostbacks and all the ports. If something were to happen to the king of Ferelden, we would need its queen here. You are far more dangerous to others looking to exploit our weakness than anyone else I can think of. Even Anora, with all her political skill, wouldn't be able to protect Ferelden the way you would in that situation."
His eyes twinkled at her as he tried to lighten the mood. "But I will relay your message, and assure them that if anything happens, then as soon as Ferelden is secure, you will be along shortly to collect heads. And while it might be nice to bring Zevran so he can demonstrate his massage skills, I would feel better leaving him here." She wasn't reassured, not at all and his attempts at humor weren't helping. "It may not come to that, Lya," he sighed. "I just wanted you to be prepared. Just in case, you know, the worst happened."
She twisted in his arms so she could sit facing him. Straddling him and glaring, she jabbed a finger into his chest hard enough to hurt. "You listen to me, Alistair Theirin," she said fiercely, "you had better come back to me! If you don't, I will come looking for you, no matter where you are. Weisshaupt doesn't scare me, nor do the Wardens. And I fought through the Fade to find you once and I will do it again if I have to!"
She was scared, he realized. Scared and channeling that fear into anger to keep it at bay. And she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. Her jaw was set at that stubborn angle that said more loudly than words that she meant business. All the twisting around had caused her robe to open, revealing the inner slopes of her breasts. And straddling him the way she was left the gorgeous length of her thighs exposed. He grasped her hips and pulled her more firmly against him. She braced her hands on his shoulders for balance and he leaned forward to kiss her. "Then I think," he said huskily, "you should give me a reason to come home."
He wanted to be gentle. Maker help him, he really did. She had been gone for so long and she was worn out and tired, and he wanted to make sure she knew how much he loved her. But neither of them had the patience for that tonight. Their joining was frantic, almost desperate, each seeking to banish their heartache through raw physical intimacy. He knew he was holding her too hard, that bruises would mar the fair skin on her arms and hips in the morning. Just as she knew the scratches on his back and small teeth marks on his shoulder would burn under his armor tomorrow. And while it wasn't what they may have wanted, it was what they needed.
They both lay breathing heavily in the aftermath. Lya enjoyed feeling the heavy weight of Alistair on her, cradled between her hips. And when he went to move off of her to lie at her side, she tightened her legs and wrapped her arms around him. "Lya," he murmured, smoothing a damp strand of hair off her brow, "I'm too heavy. Let me move."
"No," Lya whispered. She pressed a small kiss to the side of his throat. "Stay right here." So Alistair settled for shifting his weight to the side, bracing most of it on his arm so that he wouldn't crush her. They lay like that for a while, and while they were both tired, sleep didn't come to either of them for a long time. Eventually, Alistair fell asleep first and Lya watched over him. She gently stroked the dark blond hair that never seemed to lay flat, the angles of his face, the smooth muscles of his arms. She didn't pray very often, but tonight she hoped the Maker wasn't as absent as the Chantry said and that He was listening now. "Please," she whispered into the darkness. "Bring him home to me safely."