Ring of Roses

I stood at the edge of the training field, watching my husband train our newest recruits. They hadn't been through the Joining yet, these half-dozen young men and women, but it would happen very soon. Alistair had expressed his satisfaction with their progress; he'd spent extra time with the four warriors in the group to share some of the mental discipline techniques he'd learned as a templar initiate and had continued to maintain. Not quite giving away Chantry secrets, but coming bloody close.

He shot me a smile as he spotted me and shouted for the recruits to come to attention. They complied instantly and I walked forward.

"Commander." Alistair's eyes twinkled, as they always did when he used my title in front of the other Wardens. Everyone knew our relationship, but it was a measure of respect that he accorded me, even though he didn't have to. And something about the way he said it sent heat rippling through me. It might be interesting to hear him call me that when we were alone, later tonight. In bed…

"How is the training progressing?" I kept my face neutral, but pleasant; aloof, but interested. I couldn't help but think of Duncan, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at his recruits, the warmth that he would have steadfastly denied should anyone have mentioned it.

"Excellent. I believe we can proceed to the gathering stage tomorrow."

Ah, yes, the wonderful test of the recruits' ability to work together against the darkspawn, while collecting darkspawn blood. Disgusting, but necessary. One of the interesting--and rather convenient--elements of Vigil's Keep was its long-buried entrance into the Deep Roads. We'd discovered it many years back, when the Wardens had first come to the arling. There were few enough darkspawn left lingering on the surface, but they were always to be found underground, even though their numbers had diminished significantly. Having our own entrance to the dwarven tunnels was an exceptional bonus to the Vigil.

"And who shall accompany them?"

"Maika," Alistair said without hesitation. "She is the most skilled of the last round of recruits."

I nodded. "Maika it is, then. Your journey is nearly done, my friends," I said to the recruits. My heart panged as I admitted the truth of those words. In the last five years, not a single Joining had passed without at least one death. One of these poor souls would not live to fight the darkspawn again, after tomorrow. "The rest of the day is yours. Enjoy it as you see fit. But…" I held up a hand. "Try not to overindulge."

"Yes, Commander!" The recruits saluted and dispersed across the field.

"Alone at last," Alistair breathed as he drew close to me. Not too close, not on the field like this, both of us encased in armor, but close enough for me to smell the warm metallic scent of his, the slight tang of sweat beneath it.

"Later." I chuckled. "I sought you out for a reason." The small smile that had bloomed at his attention dropped from my lips. "You received another letter from Eamon."

He groaned and turned to walk over to the weapon racks that bordered the training field. I followed close behind. "I thought we'd agreed you were going to burn those."

"I was, but…curiosity prompted me to read it." I watched as Alistair expertly wiped the blunted practice swords and replaced them on the racks. "He should be here in a few hours."

"Maker's breath." His head drooped. "I'm so bloody tired of this. Maybe we should ask the First Warden for a reassignment. This isn't going to end, as long as we're here."

"Contacting Weisshaupt and getting a response will take weeks, and we need to deal with this now. Because there's more, Alistair." I bounced nervously on the balls of my feet, my armor's joints rasping together. "An assassination attempt was made on Fergus Cousland." I held up a hand as he spun, fire in his eyes. The same anger dwelled within my breast--I barely knew the Teyrn of Highever, but he had supported me, and I would never forget it. "He's alive. But…"

I crossed my arms over my chest and cast my eyes skyward. Maker, was I actually going to say this? "Ferelden can't go through another civil war."

"Don't." He slammed one of the swords onto the rack.

"Don't what? Tell you what you already know?" I grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face me. "Do you think I want you to be King? I don't!"

His lips twisted. "Gee. Thanks."

"Oh, it's not a hit against your abilities, Alistair. You would…you would make a magnificent King," I said, my voice dropping. "You could have been Commander here, easily, you know. You can lead, and lead well. I've seen it over and again."

"You are Commander, love. You earned it during the Blight, and I was not about to take it from you." One gauntleted hand cupped my right cheek, the thumb tracing the lines of my tattoo, the ridges of my scars.

I closed my eyes, briefly, savoring the familiar feel of warm metal and leather against my skin. "That's not the point."

His eyes hardened, and his hand fell away. "I won't do it."

"Civil war, Alistair. There is no Blight to distract the two sides now. It will consume the country."

He chuckled grimly. "And since when are you a political expert?"

"Andraste's blood!" My magic flared, along with my temper, and I hastily reined it in. "You are infuriating."

"I learned from the best," he said with a crooked grin.

"Do you know how painful this is to contemplate?" I whispered. "I love Ferelden, Alistair, I truly do. I've worked so hard--we all have--to see her righted again. And to have her threaten to crumble around us…" I shook my head, cursing the tears that burned my eyes. "What was the point? If we let it happen, what was the sodding point?"

"What I said two months ago still stands, Kiann. My duty is to you, first. The Wardens, second. Then to Ferelden. I am so sick of my blood trying to rule my life!" Unexpectedly, he lashed out at one of the sword racks, sending it crashing to the ground.

I raised a brow. "Feel better?"

He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "No, damn it."

"Just…talk to Eamon. Maybe--maybe Teyrn Fergus managed to convince the Chantry to see his point of view."

"I'm sorry, did the Maker just return to Thedas?" Alistair turned a disbelieving look to her. "Because that's as likely as the Chantry getting its head out of its collective arse."

I snorted. "Alistair! Oh, you would have made a terrible templar."

"Don't I know it. Come here, love." He pulled me into an embrace, the plates of our armor scraping together. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Fine. I'll talk to Eamon. But if he tries to kidnap me away to Denerim, I'll expect you to stop him."

"Of course." I smiled as he leaned down to kiss me. "Now, let's retire for a little bit. I have something I'd like you to say to me in private."

###

Eamon and his entourage arrived just before supper. His letter had implied that he would be only a short distance behind it, so I had set the kitchen to preparing a slightly larger meal than usual. With a castle full of Wardens with Warden-sized appetites, meals were usually enormous, anyway, so it wasn't much extra trouble for the cooks.

Though Alistair and I usually ate with the rest of our brothers and sisters in the main dining hall, I requested that we be served in the family's quarters instead. The dining room there was small, but suited our need for privacy. I stared at my food and poked at it; even my legendary appetite had gone missing. Alistair was no different--he ate, but far less than usual. Eamon didn't seem interested in the meal, either.

Enough. We'd spoken of the weather, Eamon's journey, the progress at the Vigil, everything but the reason why he'd come. I wasn't sure if the Arl was reluctant to broach the subject, for fear that Alistair would dismiss him out of hand, or if he was waiting for us to start.

So I did.

"Teyrn Fergus is recovering, I hope," I said, taking a sip of my wine.

The Arl blew out a breath. He looked so much older than I remembered. When we'd awoken him at Redcliffe, and Teagan had told him his wife had died to save him, there'd been a fire in his eyes that had burned until Anora's affirmation a month after the death of the archdemon. That light was gone from his eyes now, replaced by fatigue.

"He is, Commander, though it was a close thing."

Alistair's fork clattered against his plate. "What happened?"

"An assassin, hidden on a rooftop. He fired a volley of arrows at the Teyrn as he toured the city of Highever, his regular monthly inspection." The Arl's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Did they catch him?"

Eamon inclined his head. "They did. Though he swallowed a poison pill before they could question him."

I looked down at my plate. "So they don't know who's behind it."

"No, Commander, they don't."

"But…" I raised my brows. "You must have a theory."

"Ferelden has never been a hotbed for political intrigue. We're generally simple folk, even the highest nobles, and we certainly don't employ the tactics the Orlesians do within their court." Eamon gave up the pretense of eating his meal and leaned back in his chair. "But tempers flare and people have been known to take idiotic actions when the crown is in question. It's quite possible that a minor lord who supports Teyrn Leonas decided that Fergus needed to be eliminated from the competition."

Something in his tone or the way he sat, looking defeated, told me he didn't really believe that. "But Fergus doesn't want the throne."

"After Alistair, he's the most likely candidate, but, no. He is far more invested in getting Alistair onto the throne than himself."

"Maker's breath, why?" Alistair pushed away from the table and rose to pace across the room. "Seriously. Why? I know nothing of politics, Eamon. Surely that hasn't escaped everyone's notice."

"No one cares, Alistair." The Arl pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are the last of the Theirins. You can unite the country. Without you, it will be civil war." Eamon sighed. "I've already heard tales of minor lords in the Bannorn taking up arms against each other."

Dear Andraste. It was the Blight all over again. Except, this time, there was no archdemon to defeat that would make everything all better.

"There have also been…rumors," the Arl began, "of factions in Orlais pressuring the Empress to act while Ferelden is weakened."

My breath caught. Perfect. Bloody perfect.

"But…Cailan had a formal peace treaty with the Orlesians," Alistair protested, stunned. "And Anora reaffirmed it, didn't she?"

"Peace treaties last only as long as either side is too afraid to break them, son." Eamon crossed his arms over his chest. "Without a leader, and fighting amongst ourselves, we must look like quite the easy prey for those who once held these lands. It's…possible…that the Orlesians are behind the assassination attempt against Fergus. To further destabilize the country."

"Go." The simple word slipped from my lips. So tiny, such an insignificant sound, and yet it changed everything.

"Kiann, don't--"

I sucked in a shuddering breath then stood and met my husband's eyes without wavering. "You are released from your duties as my second."

"Don't…you…dare." He whirled on me, his eyes blazing.

"You can't stop me." I looked down at the table, shocked to see my fingers nearly bloodless from the force with which I pressed them into the wood. My wedding ring gleamed on the third finger of my left hand, a simple gold band etched with roses.

"Kiann, please. Please don't." His voice was rough. He took a step toward me. Stopped.

My vision blurred. A tear splattered against the table. I had to release him completely. But I couldn't. Maker help me, I wasn't that strong.

"You have to go. You have to do this. I can't--" My breath was ragged as I shook my head. When I continued, it was barely audible. "Don't make me take off this ring. Please."

"What about everything we've built here?"

"The Wardens will survive without you, Alistair. Ferelden won't."

"So that's it. Once again, my decision is being made for me. I never expected that of you, Kiann. But, I suppose my life has been filled with disappointments so far, what's one more?" He crossed his arms as his brows descended over his eyes.

I swallowed and clenched my teeth, refusing to wince even though his words dug into me with a physical pain.

Eamon rose to his feet slowly. "Son--"

"No. Stop right there." Alistair turned his glare from me to the man who'd raised him. "You have made it abundantly clear whose son I am. Fine. You want me to be King? I'll be the sodding King. In fact, let's leave tonight, seeing as I've been released from the Wardens. The sooner I get to Denerim and put on the damned crown, the better, right?"

My heart ached and twisted. "Alistair, please."

"No. You've made your decision. It's what you're good at, isn't it? Making decisions, controlling people's lives. Sod it." He threw one of his hands in the air, like he was tossing me away. "I'll go pack."

"Do you--" The tears flowed freely now. I couldn't stop them. "Do you want me to take off the ring?"

He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and leaned his forehead against the wood. His eyes closed. "No," he breathed. "No, I--" He straightened and looked at me. The cracks in my heart widened at the pain in his eyes. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? Goodbye, Kiann."

He stepped through the door without a single glance back at me.

I collapsed into my chair. What had I done? Maker, what had I done?

"Thank you," Eamon said softly. "I know it can't be easy--"

"Shut. Up." The candles on the banquet server flared to life and I struggled to pull my magic back before it lit the Arl's massive beard on fire. "You know nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I suppose now we're even."

The Arl frowned. "I don't understand."

"I cost you your wife. You cost me my husband."

"Kiann, I never--"

I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Just go. Before something other than candles burst into flame."

His eyes widened slightly at that and he made his way to the door, but not through it. "I never blamed you for Isolde's death, Warden. You did what you had to, and her sacrifice saved many lives. It was not an easy thing to come to terms with, but I have." His eyes were almost kind as he regarded me. "I will try to help Alistair understand."

Mute, I nodded. When Eamon disappeared through the door, I pulled my knees up to my chest and let the sobs come.