VI.
For the first few months after the Archdemon was defeated, you had dreamt of this. A dozen scenarios, a dozen different words, a dozen declarations of love and in each and every one of them he told you three things: He told you he was wrong to leave you. He told you he loved you. He told you he wanted you to be his wife.
Yet, when he stands in front of you proclaiming those same three things, you search blindly in your mind to remember how you had responded in your dreams. Some variation of tears, of kisses, of slowly making love to him for hours but you struggle to remember if you'd ever actually answered the question.
But you can't recall.
Through all the confusion and hurt and heart-wrenching pain you'd felt after the landsmeet, you don't know what you would have answered, at the time.
And now, with five years of heartbreak and pain, and even a tentative sort of recovery behind you... it's not any easier.
He must recognize the terror in your eyes because he pulls himself to his feet and although he's grinning at you like a nervous fool, he backs away. "But time you shall have, dear lady." And you're not even sure if you blink before he's gone, slipping from your room and leaving you there, clutching a sheet and gaping at the door.
-- -- --
Two days later, and you're not sure your shocked expression has entirely left your face. You're going through the motions of being a proper Grey Warden, meetings, discussions, planning... you're trying to be a good houseguest for Teagan, but an odd sort of distraction has infused itself into your senses, leaving you just a hair off in reaction, perception... it's occurring to you on a regular basis that you're lucky the days of being ambushed whenever you try to go anywhere are long behind you.
You've been avoiding the palace.
Teagan does not mention it, surely he has written off your behaviour as a reaction to the dance, the banquet... you haven't told him about afterwards. He's patient and kind and seems genuinely interested in making sure you have a good stay in Denerim, and whatever grounding you've found is directly a result of that.
The morning of the third day since it happened, you decide to say it out loud.
"The King asked me to marry him." You break silence over breakfast, not looking at Teagan as you speak. You use his title, for you fear that calling him Alsitair might muddle the situation too further, and everything is as confusing enough as it is without accidentally forgetting exactly who he is, now.
"Yes, I had rather thought he might."
If the proposal itself had not thrown you off enough, Teagan's utter lack of surprise and conversational tone throws another wrench into your carefully constructed world. You must be staring at him like he's announced his desire to raise baby Hurlock's because he chuckles and smiles indulgently. "Anyone who was at that banquet suspects it, I'd imagine."
"Pardon me?" To your own ears, your voice sounds more than a little faint, high-pitched and slightly affronted.
"When you danced" Teagan explains. "He was staring at you like you were the moon and stars and sun all at once. As though everything in his world only made sense when arranged around you."
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Oh."
"I assumed from your hasty exit afterwards that you had noticed that. I thought the weight of it had been too much for you. My crossness with him was borne from the idea his unwanted affection was leaving you uncomfortable."
"What? No... I don't know..." You still feel faint.
Teagan's smile slips a little as he regards you. "While your affairs are not my place, I feel it is my duty as... your friend, dear lady, to make sure you have all of the information."
What information? Your brow furrows again, silently awaiting Teagan's explanation.
"His advisors... he has been on the throne for five years. That is a long time for a monarchy to be unstable. He has no heir, and it is my understanding he is... under quite a bit of pressure to rectify that."
Your shoulders sag at that, your breath coming out slowly. "Oh." You repeat, your gaze falling resolutely to your hands where they rest in your lap.
You can hear the concern in Teagan's voice. "I don't mean to hurt you. whatever may have transpired between you the other night, you should not forget what happened five years ago. I would not want... would not want his inability to handle his throne to cause you harm."
Again.
The word is unspoken, but it hangs in the air between you. Teagan is worried that Alistair's intentions are not as pure as they could be.
What terrifies you most is that he may be right.
You excuse yourself quickly, leaving a stricken-looking Teagan behind as you retreat to your room. There's fear forming in the pit of your stomach and questions nagging at your brain.
Why now? Why didn't he seek me out and ask me before now? Why did he wait until I came to Denerim? If he's missed me so badly, why did he not come after me? Why did it take five years? Why?
Too many questions, too much uncertainty and your head is spinning. You feel nauseated and nervous and numb all at once and it's an odd sensation, like everything in your world is suddenly cracking apart and waiting for you to put it back into place.
Teagan's right, you know this. You know that one night, one declaration, one question hanging in the air is not enough.
Wishing is not going to change that.
-- -- --
Another three days has gone by, and you are finally returning to the Palace. After calming down, you had spoken with Teagan at length and the conversation had been more cathartic than you'd like to admit. More candid, as well. It was easy to talk to him, easy to bear your heart and soul and try to make sense of the things that were muddled. He has apologized, rather profusely at that, not wanting to cause you distress and your repeated statement that he only said things you needed to hear seem to be falling on deaf ears.
Still, for all his apologies, Teagan makes a good sounding board.
It is with your splintmail in place and your voice steady that you request an audience with The King. It is without any hint of faltering that you inform him of your need to speak privately. And it is without any trace of regret in your voice that you tell him no.
But you cannot look at his eyes.
A/N: We're not done yet! I promise!
