~{1}~
Rebuilding work on Ferelden's prided city - Denerim - had been well underway with the help of her resilient denizens: her new king, nobles and commoners united under a common cause. Most would have liked to think the darkspawn assault was nothing but a nightmare, or stories told among travelers. The remnants remained despite these wishes, and reports of small darkspawn attack straggling north continued to pour in.
When King Alistair put forward the idea of a royal ball, he had never expected such an unanimous support from his council of advisors, nor foresaw the chains of events he would set rolling after his proposal. He had certainly never seen a project so actively discussed and efficiently planned. At the end of the meeting, all preparatory details had been decided.
The news was announced: To celebrate the restoration of Denerim Palace and appreciation for the generosity shown by the nobles. Formal invitations were sent. Every lord and lady seemed to have found a new purpose to their dreary routine and rose to it with energetic vigor, thus influencing their servants into the same frenzy of assisting their master and mistress to get ready for the ball.
The roads to Denerim was soon a stream of heavy traffic with nobles and their families, servants and guards; a parade of riches and a welcome business for those villages and towns that offered rest-stop along the roads. It was said bandits had watched from afar, in awe.
As the big day drew near, most merchants of Denerim had witnessed record-high sales they hadn't seen in years. It was so especially for those selling fineries. Rumors circulating told of a shocking shortage of silk, and sought-after tailors demanding sabbatical from weeks of non-stop work. The common folk would complain about the sudden steep price in meat due to a fallen supplies.
On the whole, the ball was a much welcome break and had given the Fereldens something to concern themselves with - their new bachelor king.
~{2}~
"Eamon! What do you think?" Alistair raised his arms and turned a round, waiting for Chancellor Eamon's opinion.
"You're going to wear that for the ball?" Eamon took a seat diagonally across from Alistair, crossing his legs at ease.
"Why not? It'd been cleaned and polished." Alistair looked at himself in the mirror again for the fifth - maybe more - time, but he didn't want to own up to his insecurity about what awaiting him: that he was going to walk into a room of smiling wolves, all hungering for a piece of him, in one way or another. "I look tough and prepared."
"I hope you're not taking too literally when I said the nobles are a pack of wolves waiting for their chance." Eamon stroked his beard, his eyes met Alistair's inside the mirror.
"N-no. I think I look best in armor." This was true. Alistair, through his constant training and countless fights since the Blight, had a well-formed athletic body and his rugged features was accentuated by his gold and silver heavy plate armor. The other reason he did not divulge however, was he'd always preferred his cotton tunics to the silk ones, and apparently they weren't good enough for the nobles.
"Yes, I agree," replied Eamon after a moment, then he turned to Alistair's guard captain, "Captain Drake, will you and your men leave us for a few moments."
Alistair nodded. Captain Drake and three other guards cleared the room.
"What's this secrecy?" Alistair tried to sound lighthearted but he thought he gulped a little too loud.
"You do understand what this ball's about, Alistair?"
"Yes... You asked me to propose a ball under the pretense of celebration -"
"Not a pretense, Alistair. We are celebrating. You helped save the city, and now rebuilding it. Trade has resumed with our neighbors. Slowly but surely, people start to pick up their lives before the Blight. This is a new beginning, for Ferelden." Eamon walked over to Alistair and laid his hand on Alistair's shoulder, his grip turned firm. "And you, Alistair, is her new king. You will lead her and her people."
"Sounds easy..." Alistair gulped in apprehension.
"You've asked many questions about Maric and his rule. You're Maric's son, of Theirin bloodline, that will never change. But being king is not asking you to be somebody else. You're not Maric, Alistair, and you don't have to be him to be a good king. You've shown yourself brave, compassionate and dutiful," Eamon smiled, "That is a good start."
"I... uh, thank you." Alistair's eyebrows arched with this new piece of knowledge. Judging from Eamon's sighs and shaking of heads after their nightly studies and discussions on the art of governance, he certainly wasn't expecting such praises from him. Of course he said nothing about his intellect, Alistair almost sighed.
"However, you would need the support of the nobles. You remember what I told you about the politics of Ferelden."
"Yes. The source of a king's power." Ha, a pop test, Alistair was happy he remember this bit. "Well, it's unlikely they'll do as I command, 'Give me your support! Now!' 'Yes, my king. Here, take it.'" Alistair mimicked and stopped when he caught Eamon's disapproved look. He returned with his usual sheepish grin.
"Hence, your first task tonight is to get to know these people, and befriend them."
"What? Don't you know friendship can't be forced. What if they don't like me? Or more importantly, I don't like them?"
"I trust you are capable to make judgement who you'd like to keep as close friends and those who'd suffice on friendly terms." Eamon beamed at Alistair, "From what I heard, most of the palace servants and guards are quite fond of you. You have an easy manners that people look to."
"You... did a survey on my popularity?" Alistair felt his jaw drop.
"No, I paid attention to what servants said sometimes." Eamon gave a loud dry cough.
"Oh."
"It's good that our hero stays for tonight. Her presence will be seen as a reaffirmed allegiance to you and this is most advantageous to us."
"I did not ask Win to stay for this purpose." Alistair replied flatly. When Winona received a missive from the First Warden detailing her work of finding new recruits before the arrival of Orlesian Wardens, Alistair had asked her to defer the mission till after the ball.
"I'm aware of your feelings for her." Eamon and Alistair locked eyes. "This brought up my concern, Alistair. You know your other duty as king, don't you?"
"Yes. Find a queen and get as many children out of her as possible. Thanks to your constant reminder."
"I rather think three is good enough and ideally two princes and a princess." Eamon ignored Alistair's undertone and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "The nobles are well aware of your duty. Tonight would be a great opportunity to pick out candidates for your queen."
Alistair knew the royal ball wouldn't be just a simple night of dancing. After months of guidance and tutoring under Eamon, he had opened eyes to the shrewd side of whom he'd always thought just a quiet good man. Whatever Eamon might have planned for him, Alistair had a very different agenda in mind. How would the nobles react if he execute his plan, he thought, a pity the grand cleric was off to Val Royeaux for some convention... He could imagine her choking on her wine when he -.
"We've been through this, Alistair. I thought you understood." Eamon sighed.
"I do." Alistair snapped, a little to his regret. "But it's my life! And I'm king! Don't I have the right to at least choose my own queen?"
"Alistair, I do not wish to see your reign short-lived." said Eamon with solemnity. "As your Chancellor, I advise you to think it over carefully. The queen has her duty of producing an heir for you. Didn't you say yourself it's not recommendable or even impossible for two... tainted persons to have a child at all?"
"What would you advise, then, not as my chancellor? As... a friend?" Alistair watched Eamon intensely and thought he saw a resignation flicked across his countenance.
"Alistair," Eamon turned away from Alistair and said, "I would still advise you the same thing." He paused, touching and turning the gold band on his finger for a long moment before he continued, "It was a very difficult time for Isolde and I... You can't know what it was like, Alistair, but I love her. I was only an arl then and you are a king."
"Win is the hero of Ferelden. People love her. It's not the same with you and Isolde."
"Not all that different when comes to the stubborn notions of nobles. You think you have the power to keep them in line, Alistair? Or the Warden? If killing every opposing noble is an option, I would have no doubt both you would make the strongest monarch Ferelden ever had."
"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," Alistair chortled. "Um... I was just joking, Eamon." added Alistair meekly after an awkward silence.
"I only ask you to be prudent before you make any haste decision."
"I love her." Alistair said quietly.
"Maker help you, Alistair. I think enough said. If you're ready, let the show begin." Eamon walked out without looking at Alistair.
~{3}~
Denerim Palace, or simply the palace - for no one seemed to know its name - was not a lavish sight to behold, but some would say it provided a sense of comfort within its sturdy and angular shape walls when pressed. It had not suffered as much damage as other parts of the city; the main horde of the darkspawn was diverted to Fort Drakon when they reached the palace district. Many stone sculptures of Ferelden's famous kings survived the siege and remained standing in the big courtyard inside the gates.
The ball brought the excitable lords and ladies together, dressed in colorful apparels and glittering jewelry; their cheerful mood was a stark contrast to the weary-worn look of the past kings as they slowly made their way to the great hall. Two watchful doormen positioned at the entrance readied to announce the so-and-so lord and lady.
"Teyrna Anora of Gwaren," Anora Mac Tir Theirin was the first to cross the threshold. Looking ravishing and confident, she led a small chatting group behind her.
"Teyrn Fergus and Lady Elissa of Highever," Fergus Cousland and his sister were chatting in low voice interspersed with laughs, warranted a few glances from Anora.
"Arl Vaughan of Denerim and er..." Vaughan Kendells glared at the squirming doorman and whispered something in his ear. "Er... cousin, um, Lady Garina."
"O-hoho," a group of meddlesome servants watching the proceedings from the far end of corridor that led to the great kitchen, laughed at the blunder of the doorman. "Poor Alfonzo!"
"I know Vaughan, a pompous fool, that's what he's. And a pervert elf-lover." one of them commented and was nudged at the chest by an elven maid. "Ow. I'm sorry, but 'tis true! You be careful when around him, don't say ol' Burk didn't warn you!"
"What ugly dress she's wearing! And hideous color!" the elven maid said vehemently. "I like Anora's better."
"Dumb-ass! That's the newest fave from Orlais, called... oh yes, 'purple.' Cost a fortune. You sure don't have to worry about getting to wear - ouch!" crooked-tooth Henrick winced.
"What do you know!"
"Well, me wife's cousin work for that tailor Gardin. He says that old cock wouldn't let any apprentice near those purples."
"Hmph!" she watched Lady Garina laughing at her partner's words, her purple silken dress flowed elegantly behind her as they entered the dining hall.
"Maker's breath! Where's everyone?" grand cook Elise stormed out. "What's this? Do you want to get the switch? Get back to work! Move!" she roared at the group of insolent servants. At her roar, they scurried away like scattered rats. "As if I'm not busy enough..."
~{4}~
When the grand cook was roaring at the servants, at the furthest corner of the guest wing, Winona lay sprawled on her bed, engrossed in taking notes and updating her journal for her magic research. Several scrolls, an old tome and a thick missive spread out in front for her reference. Her mabari snuggling beside her, rose his head suddenly, taking long sniff at the air.
"What's wrong, Duncan?" Winona asked without taking her eyes off her notes, her quill working furiously on the parchments.
The mabari jumped off the bed, the sudden release of his weight nearly toppled the ink bottle.
"Duncan!" Winona caught the bottle before any harm done and shot him a glance. He was scratching and sniffing under the door. Something dawned on her.
"Oh no, is it that late?" It had to be. She lighted the candles a while ago... a long while ago. Winona got up and hurried to the door, still clutching the ink bottle. She'd hoped to find a servant, but there was none in sight, not even a guard. However the empty passageway was already lit. The lights danced about in the wind blowing through the open archway to the walled-in fountain court. It carried a very faint music.
Winona closed the door. Her dog whimpered quizzically at her. "I... I need to change first. Wait here." He barked in an urging tone.
This morning at breakfast, Alistair whispered, "I've sent you a surprise. Check your room later." and winked at her before he left with Eamon. When she returned from Lady Isolde and Connor, a servant handed her a stunning robe, the type she used to jokingly comment to Leliana as expensive-and-trickery. She had left it draped over the top of an old iron chest at the foot of the bed. Now she picked it up and held it in front as she checked out in the mirror.
She moved one hand down the flowing robe. A long sleeve gown of soft crushed velvet and rich embroidered taffeta in deep burgundy. It was beautiful. She slipped the robe on and frowned at what she saw. The gown hung loosely and wrinkly on her petite frame which failed to hold up the appropriate curvy parts. She looked ridiculous! Even if the robe was the right size - she pulled the silky fabric into a tight-hug - something was still out of place, the robe did not suit her elvish features. Her thoughts wandered dangerously on negative conclusion... No. Alistair would not mock her like this. She let out a heavy sigh as she pulled the gown off.
Leliana had talked a lot about fashion; one of her favorite theses was everyone had a unique style that would bring out the inner charm and grace of the wearer. Morrigan, despite her rag-tag style, had turned heads as much as her icy glare repelled their advances. Leliana thought the tear-and-show heightens Morrigan's wild and sexy appeal. For Wynne and herself, there was only mage robe. While Wynne looked contented and poised, she admitted she had occasionally wondered what it's like to spend time 'dolling oneself,' as Zevran had liked to tease Leliana whenever she spent too much time with her mirror.
To be honest, she did not dislike her mage robe, such as the one she donned back. 'This Reaper's Vestment was Tevinter cut,' the proprietor of Thedas of Wonder explained, 'Reaper was an apostate mage who evaded the templars for many years before being captured. Part villain, part folk hero, it is said he led a charmed life avoiding dangers that would have killed lesser men.' When she saw the enchantments on the robe, she paid the gold happily. She had wore it for the battle with the archdemon. If it was good for the old god, she reckoned it was also good for facing the human nobles.
Behind her the mabari barked again, reminding her they were late. "Coming," she tucked away a wisp of fallen hair as she grabbed her staff. Her mabari whined confusedly at her. "You're right... we're going to a ball," Winona sighed.
~{5}~
The hallways seemed long and without an end for those in hurry. Several servants and guards they passed looked surprised to see them.
"Hurry, my lady. I think it's only the fifth course." one elven maid told her. Winona nodded and made haste to the great hall. Once she saw the big oaken door, she slowed to a walk, trying to catch her breath. She paused at the door when she caught her mabari looking at her, tongue hanging out and eyes lit up.
"Ready?" The dog wagged his tail excitedly. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
She blinked. It was empty. There were a few servants busy with arrangements, one working closest to them stared up in astonishment.
"Warden?" he said and pointed a finger to a door next to him. "They're all next door, Warden."
So she made an error, Winona exhaled in relief. She thanked the man and headed to the door as told.
Her eyes began searching for Alistair as soon as she entered. Clinking of goblets and loud chatting voices filled the brightly-lit hall. Rows of nobles lined three long tables, digging in to the cuisines brought in by pretty maids. She found Alistair in the middle table, flanked by Eamon and Anora and his opposite were all taken up by young ladies with thick makeup. Alistair seemed to be concentrating on his food with his head overly-lowered, but his ears were a shade of beet red.
No one appeared to notice her entry and Winona intended to keep that way as she quietly made her way to an empty seat she spotted at the end of another table. A few seats from her destination, one lady happened to put down her cutlery and looked around. She frowned at Winona initially but turned into a awkward smile when she seemed to recognize the elven mage. Her smile froze when her eyes dropped to a lower level around Winona's knees.
~{6}~
Alistair wished he could erect some sort of screen to shield himself against the constant stare and scrutiny of the young ladies surrounding him. The attention did not give him any superiority satisfaction. Instead, it made him sweat profusely and his food near-tasteless. And the questions! Maker's sizzling blood!
"King Alistair, do you not like the cheesy scallops?" one of the young ladies with blonde-curls asked again, forgetting she made a similar query for the earlier shrimp soup. "I think it's very nicely done!"
"Of course... uh, it's indeed..." Alistair felt uncommonly hot inside his metal suit. Now he started to question his wisdom of wearing one to a crowded, enclosed room. He stole a glance at the person on his left: Chancellor Eamon appeared to be in deep conversation with his neighbors of elderly lords, most of whom he vaguely recognized but failed to remember their names.
"I think the added bread crumbs is so clever!" a dark-haired girl from one of the southern bannorns chimed in eagerly. "The palace has a formidable cook, I'd say. How lucky you are, your Majesty!" She chuckled and batted her long eyelashes in Alistair's direction.
"I've never heard of your bannorn, do you have a proper cook at all? Or does your maid have to balance her chores?" the blonde-curls lady narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired intruder.
"Y-you... H-how dare you!" the jeweled pin on the dark-haired girl shook in response to her anger.
"Um... la-ladies," Alistair groaned. "Come on, it's a ball. We're supposed to hold hands and laugh together?" A snicker made Alistair turned abruptly. He caught Anora wiping her chin with her napkins.
"Tell her to curb her tongue then, your Majesty!"
"Look who's talking!" Both were unwilling to back down and hoped King Alistair would come to their aid.
"Ignore them, your Majesty. That's what I'd do," another blonde lady, whom had been introduced to Alistair by Arl Vaughan as his cousin, winked and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. Her words were nevertheless overheard by the two pouting ladies, instantly earning her their glares. She didn't seem to notice or she didn't care as she picked up her wine, her eyes beaming at Alistair.
Alistair used his napkin to wipe his sweat. He noticed Anora dropped hers. "Oh dear..." Anora gasped softly.
"Here, let me..." Alistair picked it up and held out to Anora.
"Thank you," Anora smiled gratefully. "I would've thought you learned to deal with such situations from the council meetings; yet here you fumbled in front of a group of silly naive girls." She whispered as they were only inches away.
"They're different!"
"Only you think so." With that, Anora turned to her other neighbor and seemed to lose interest in Alistair.
Alistair never felt more alone this moment, where most around him were either engaged in uproarious twitter or good-natured banter. Even the bickering ladies seemed to be having fun throwing spiced words at each other. His eyes swept the hall again, Winona was not among them. Nothing was going according to plans at all. He resigned himself to a night of frustration.
"What's on your mind, King Alistair?" Blonde-curls touched his hand gently, her concern sounded genuine. "Please know you can always share your thoughts with me. I'm here for you."
"You should be careful who you speak your heart to, your Majesty. There are people who don't discriminate between confidentiality and gossip. I wouldn't want to see you hurt when your words got around."
"Y-you..." Dark-haired smirked at Blonde-curls who was at a loss of words.
"Ohh," Arl Vaughan's cousin cooed. "It is really sweet of you to throw this ball, my king. I'm really looking forward to a dance with you!"
"Ah yes, King Alistair, you should ask Garina to dance. She's a superb dancer. Not to mention she spent the whole month getting ready for your ball ever since the announcement!" Arl Vaughan laughed, putting an arm round his cousin.
"Vaughan!" Lady Garina nudged her cousin but she did not seem embarrassed at all. The other ladies became silent and Alistair could feel all eyes concentrated on him.
"The dance... I'm afraid I'm already engaged for the first dance..." Alistair's voice wavered as he remembered Winona was still absent. Maybe he should send a servant to check out.
"Well, you are not stopping after one dance, I hope. Garina could have your next dance. This is her first time to Denerim, you wouldn't disappoint a young lady's wish, would you, my dear king?" Arl Vaughan winked at Alistair.
"Well..." Alistair frowned at a tug on his leg, someone's hem caught on his armor spike again. Really, had I not wore my armors... Alistair stopped in his track of thoughts when he realized whoever the culprit, she was not trying to kick him. He turned his attention back to his food and tried hard to taste them, again he could feel the heat engulfing him.
A din broke out several rows away at another table. Alistair was disinterested and would have kept poking at his scallops had he not heard a dog's bark. He looked in that direction with hope. He was not disappointed when he saw Winona and Barkspawn, she was pulling Barkspawn's collar, who seemed to be overexcited and ready to pounce on a terrified old lady. He couldn't help smiling as he pictured Barkspawn decided to help himself to other people's food.
Barkspawn was duly scolded and obviously told to back down, Alistair could see him lowering his head, whining. His eyes followed them as they took their seat at the end of the table. Barkspawn sat on the floor beside Winona. Few moments later, two maids brought their food, Barkspawn's was served with his very own silver bowl, with his full name 'Duncan Barkspawn' engraved on it.
The silver bowl and his new brown leather collar were joint-gifts from him and Winona. They decided the the dog deserved rewards of his own. The collar had a small silver plate attached carved with 'Duncan Barkspawn' as was his bowl. Only difference was he had taken the liberty to add a line on the back: 'If found, at your disposal.'
Alistair still ate without tasting but he didn't mind that much now.
Minstrels were engaged to perform during the whole course of dinner, and they did their job conscientiously even though most of the diners were oblivious to them. An Orlesian bard holding a harp took her place and said, "This is an aria from one of our famous ballads, I hope you'll enjoy as much as I enjoy performing this beautiful piece." She bowed slightly, 'Think of Me.'
