Sorry about the delay! Got a little distracted. Thanks for all the reviews even in the absence of updates, and to Crisium for the beta!
Part Four: A Woman of Strength
The second time is similar. He is nervous and she is scared but his mouth finds hers and they barrel through. The third time is better, she tilts her hips just right and starts to feel like maybe this is why people do this- but he is done before the thought really takes hold.
The fourth time, he slides her shift around her hips as usual but does not stop there, up and off and she knows it is ridiculous to feel embarrassed now, but she does. He grins at her as he kisses her breast and Mayra thinks they're getting the hang of this after all.
In the daytime hours, things are less straightforward.
He is learning, under Arl Eamon's guidance and Mayra is schooled enough in the ways of court to recognize that he tries and that is something, at least. The success of those attempts remains to be seen, but she notices the effort.
Arl Eamon does not.
Mayra does not spend much time around the man, but when they pass in the halls he is dark and scowling, muttering under his breath about things she does not understand.
Her days are never unattended. Her mother is always at her side, leading her through the duties to which she must become accustomed. The Royal Palace is large, a household of that size requires delegation, but Mayra must learn to appear as though she controls it all. She had never imagined the work of a queen to be so tedious, so buried in the minutia of everyday events. She is to know the name of every member of the staff, to know their roles and duties and who can be replaced.
It makes her head spin.
In the evenings, she gets a respite. Her mother returns to her father's estate after dinner. She has her own affairs to manage, her own duties to attend to. Mayra does her best, speaking with those she must, making sure the next day's meals are planned and organized, but it does not take her very long.
She finds herself in the library, most evenings. In a large chair, her legs curled under her and a book resting in her lap she tries to pretend things are back to being simple. Back to the days when her plans for the day consisted of little more than meals with her family and the occasional court event. She had never truly appreciated how freeing it was to be unencumbered with duty, with responsibility.
But she is The Queen of Ferelden. Somehow, that happened. It still baffles her from time to time, even after weeks of marriage. It feels a little as though she is dreaming, as though with the slightest shake she will awaken and be back in her father's house.
It startles her, for a moment. Would she have dreamed this for herself? A marriage borne of politics, a role she doesn't fully comprehend? She tries to think, to remember what she had envisioned for her future.
She cannot bring it to mind.
Her reverie is broken, the library's grand doors pushing open to reveal her husband and... a dwarf.
Alistair stops when he sees her, frowning momentarily and appearing at a loss for words. Mayra doesn't get a chance to stand, to excuse herself demurely and defer to the King's presence. If he wants to use the library to converse with the dwarf, that is his place. His expression makes it clear he does not wish her to witness the conversation and-
The dwarf raises a bushy red eyebrow in her direction. "She's a pretty thing up close."
She blinks, unaccustomed to be spoken to... about that blatantly.
From the doorway, Alistair looks mortified. "Yes, she's lovely. So lovely, in fact, that we'll just leave her be and continue this-"
But the dwarf isn't interested. He snorts, stepping further into the room and eyeing Mayra. "We haven't met. Name's Oghren."
She blinks, pulling herself to her feet and nodding as serenely as she can mange. "Mayra," she offers, casting a perplexed look at Alistair. He just looks pained, staying in the doorway and shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Aye, I know. Queen Mayra." He makes a guttural sound that she's almost certain is a laugh. "Beloved daughter of some lord who won the heart of The King, right?"
Uncomfortably, she just looks again to Alistair. His eyes are closed, head leaned down as if in prayer.
"Well good for you!" Oghren grins and for a moment she is terrified he intends to... she isn't sure, but he looks poised for some sort of clap on her arm? He refrains, however. "Boy here needs a strong woman to boss him around. He's no good without it!"
"Oghren!" Alistair's voice is strangled and he finally steps into the room.
Mayra hopes she doesn't look as scandalized as she feels. To speak of the King that way? He is the commander of Ferelden, an accomplished warrior and... Who is this dwarf to speak of him in such a way? And to her?
Alistair ushers the dwarf out of the library with only a quick glance of apology, leaving her standing there beside he abandoned book.
That night, he is waiting for her in their bedchambers. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, forearms across his knees and when he looks up at her entrance she cannot help the slight skip in her heartbeat.
But he looks nervous, as if expecting her to be in some way angry. She is unsure as to why, merely smiling at him and stepping into the antechamber to change into her shift. When she returns, he has settled into bed, lying on his side with his head propped up and there's that skipping heartbeat again...
She lies down on her side of the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why she suddenly feels as unsure as that first night... His hand is warm on her side, gently turning her onto her side to face him, mirroring his position with her arm propped up.
He's smiling, still a little nervous, but his hand rests lightly on her hip and there's comfort in that.
"So. Oghren."
Mayra merely nods. "Oghren."
Alistair looks chastened, vaguely embarrassed. "He's an interesting sort. Not much for class and... proper behaviour around ladies."
She nods again, that much had been evident.
"He's, ah," Alistair barrels on, looking past her shoulder. "an old friend, fought with us against The Blight. Great with an axe, terrible with... lots of other things."
"He fought in The Battle of Denerim?" Mayra blinks at that, trying to picture the dwarf fighting to save the human capital. It's not an easy image to come to.
Alistair nods, his fingers slipping under her shift to rest against the bare skin of her thigh. "Yeah, he was there with us at the top of Fort Drakon, when we defeated the Archdemon."
She shivers, unsure if it comes from his touch or the events he speaks of. So casually, to mention defeating the Archdemon, quelling The Blight... The urge to ask him of it hits her strongly. To hear the stories of his journey, the tale of how he ended up King, how he fought alongside The Hero of Ferelden and...
The instinct to question him falls away, something heavy and sudden in the pit of her stomach as she remembers the way Alistair had looked that night. The time she had met The Hero of Ferelden herself, had seen the strength and grace the woman possessed and-
Boy here needs a strong woman to boss him around. He's no good without it!
Oghren's words ring in her head, confusion swirling around them it feels like something has clicked into place.
Mayra just isn't sure what.
Alistair's hand is creeping higher, over her hip and trailing heat across her skin. He's looking at her with thinly veiled desire and the skipping beat of her heart returns.
So she goes to him, pressing her body against his own and when he kisses her she can think of nothing else.
Mayra only hopes it is the same for him.