Author's Note: I'm having a sort of mini-contest for this fanfiction. In future chapters, I will need a name for a pet. I decided to extend the chance out to the readers to decide upon the animal's name. If you have an idea, either review or message me with your suggestion. If I choose your name, I'll credit you in the Author's Note where the pet gets introduced.
I don't own anything affiliated with Dragon Age Origins or II
Stepping into the castle was like stepping into another world. Dozens of people from all walks of life were waiting within the grand entrance area. Many of which had never experienced such lavishness before, and probably never would again. Rare tapestries hung upon the walls, depicting scenes of epic battle, or of romantic requited love between two of the previous inhabitants. What bit of walls that weren't wearing the tapestries had impressive stained-glass windows spilling multi-colored light in and onto those who have come to witness the coronation. The entranceway was hardly silent as everyone waited for their new king, and his new bride, to grace their presence.
Rhyann had been deposited into the sea of onlookers by the soldier, who had quickly abandoned her once her location was secured. The girl spun around anxiously, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of people that were packed into the room in order to witness Alistair's ascension to the throne. Her hands ran along the sides of her garment nervously, as if this would render her invisible to those around her. That was, until she spied Lyna on the far side of the room, and conversing with her father, nonetheless. Being able to see them would have been quite the task, had the one person blocking her view not momentarily adjusted where they had been standing.
Maneuvering through the sea of bodies was easy, taking into consideration Rhyann's small stature. Many couldn't hear her as she excused herself; they were far too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice or care that an elf had been pushing through. The only downside is that many of these people seemed to have not washed in some time. Resisting the urge to vomit was difficult, but she managed.
On the other side, the elves in question were deeply wrapped in conversation. Though incredibly rude, the small elf girl couldn't help but tuning her ears in and giving a listen before they had noticed her presence.
"The hair turning white at a young age isn't really that uncommon with Dalish elves." Said Lyna casually. "We see it all the time, actually. It's part of the quickening—elves aging prematurely due to exposure to humans. All of Elvhen used to be immortal, you know, but after centuries of contact with humans, our life spans have dwindled down. The Dalish have been able to reclaim longer lives through isolation. That sometimes results in our people going through the quickening again, but in lesser forms: white hair…that sort of thing." She paused, fussing with a stray lock of hair that continued to fall in her eyes. "Are you sure your wife wasn't Dalish? You don't really see the quickening with City Elves, but you said yourself that your daughter was born with dark hair."
"I'm really not sure. She was very secretive about where she was—Rhyann! Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" Cryion's head whipped around in an exaggeratedly slow motion to spy out his daughter. His look was one of stern disappointment in her actions. Listening in on other peoples' conversations when she was representing their kind was not a wise decision.
Being called out by her father caused Rhyann's face to turn a distinct shade of red in embarrassment. The heat trailed all the way through the tips of her ears, giving her pause in response. Still, her feet moved unconsciously towards her parent at the Warden. Words were abuzz in her head, but her tongue was so knotted up from her lingering guilt that nothing came out.
"Aww, it's alright, Cyrion. It's not like we can shut our ears off when we shouldn't be listening. Believe me, I've done far worse things, things that could get me kicked out of nice places like this." Lyna's sweeping arms gestured at their current surroundings. The motion was followed by a mirthful snort and a pat on the younger elf's shoulder once she was within arm's reach.
Prior to anyone continuing their conversation, the large doors separating the entrance hall where everyone had been located to the main part of the castle begun to open slowly. All talking hushed instantly as the doors opened completely. Behind it stood Alistair, clothed in regal finery. On either side of him were two soldiers, wearing armor similar to what the man who had escorted Rhyann to the palace wore. Behind the soon-to-be official King were Ferelden's Revered Mother and Queen Anora. Anora was holding in her hands a crown—the very one that both Cailan and Maric had worn before him, and Maric's sword. Horns and trumpets blared nobly as the procession continued into the entrance hall. The music continued until Alistair found his place, kneeling with his back to the crowd watching his ascent, and his head dipped low in front of the Revered Mother, who had Anora in turn standing to her left.
"We are here to recognize Alistair Theirin's ascent to the throne of Ferelden. He succeeds his brother and father, Kings Cailan and Maric." Anora handed the crown to the Revered Mother. It was placed gingerly atop Alistair's head. "You will wear this crown as symbol to your commitment to this country." As Anora forfeited the sword to the Revered Mother, Alistair rose to his feet, but continued to face the women. "And with this sword, you swear to protect its peoples, even at the risk of losing your own life."
With the sword now in Alistair's possession, the man turned to face the people and gave a slight bow, which betrayed the childish grin he had been sporting.
"I present to you, King Alistair."
Upon the final syllable, the whole room burst into applause and cheering. Someone in the crowd whistled enthusiastically and the horns begun to play once again. National pride had filled the room once the announcement was made, which was evident on the face of everyone present. Some were tearing up, happy to see Cailan succeeded by his long lost half-brother. It took several minutes for the crowd to eventually die down.
"My first action as King," Started Alistair, having full intention of continuing if not for the cheering picking up yet again, "is to present a boon to each of those Gray Wardens who have helped to defeat the Blight."
Rhyann watched with awe as the Gray Wardens climbed the small staircase towards Alistair. First, she saw the blonde man, Jarak, she thought his name was. He was closely followed by Neria. Both of which were outfitted in beautiful clothes befitting the momentous occasion. Lyna shrugged apologetically to both her and Cyrion and made her way towards the King as well.
"Please step forward, Lyna Mahariel." Alistair's serious face threatened to crack a goofy smile at any minute as he commanded his fellow Warden to step up. She did so dutifully, but cast him a look as she did so that prevented any grins from tugging at the sides of his mouth any longer. "To Lyna, I bequeath the title of 'Hero of Ferelden', for conquering the Archdemon and quelling the Blight." He paused to allow for more cheering, which the crowd delighted in. "I also grant her the title of Commander of the Gray, and henceforth give the Wardens the greater Amaranthine area and Vigil's Keep as a base for operations so that more research can be done into the Darkspawn threat. With any luck, future Blights will be prevented. Now," he stepped closer to her, this time not trying to hide the slowly-growing smile taking his face, "what boon would you like, Lyna?"
Without missing a beat, Lyna placed her hand to her lips, as if to feign consideration. Even through the contemplative action, it was obvious that she knew what she wanted. "I'd like a place for the Dalish to call home."
"Your people have wandered for far too long. Once it is cleared out, Ostagar will, from this point on, belong to the Dalish." Alistair didn't even think on his words, making it seem as though this had all been planned prior to the coronation. "You may step down, Lyna. Jarak Cousland, please step forward and kneel before me."
Lyna headed down the stairs and back towards Rhyann and Cyrion when the human man, Jarak, stepped up to claim his boon. The man's face remained stony until he glanced over into the crowd and gave an enthusiastic thumb's up to someone beyond Rhaynn's line of sight. Then, the man dropped to one knee and ducked his head as Alistair took up the ceremonial blade he was given previously and tapped it upon each of Jarak's shoulders.
"I dub thee Teryn Jarak Cousland, and I grant you Gwaren." If it wasn't obvious that each of the boons had been decided upon beforehand, with Jarak's, it became so. He hadn't even asked for anything yet, but was granted his title anyway.
Anora's face soured considerably when those words were spoken, but remained still as Jarak rose to his feet and retreated into the crowd once more on the King's queue.
Neria then stepped up, but without kneeling. She faced Alistair, much like Lyna did, and waited for him to ask his practiced question. Before her moment to step forth and claim her reward, she had seemed bored with the proceedings. But now, she excitedly bounced up to claim what was going to be hers.
"What boon would you like, Neria Surana?"
A coy grin crossed Neria's face at first, but instantly saw its way off of her as she looked over the audience before them. "I would like for the Circle Mages to be free to learn and practice magic without fear of abuses suffered by the Chantry and Templars."
"A noble desire. From this day forth, any Templar or Chantry official found guilty of abusing mages will have their position stripped and be locked up in the dungeon. You may step down, Neria."
Rhyann had assumed that the coronation was over, considering there were no longer any Wardens to present gifts of land and new legislature to. She turned to leave, figuring that there were some chores that she should be attending to, such as doing to laundry or sweeping the house. Getting to witness a new king being crowned first-hand was enough excitement in the dull life she had returned to. Her presence, in her mind, was not needed, causing her to wonder in passing why anyone had gone through all of the trouble of finding her an escort to the castle in the first place.
But, when she did so, Lyna forcibly turned her around in order to keep her at the Palace. "It isn't over yet." Whispered the Dalish woman, directing her to stay.
"Will Cyrion and Rhyann Tabris please step forth?"
Those words caused Rhyann to freeze in place. The hairs on the back of her neck were all standing up as her jade eyes darted around the crowd. Every eye in the room felt as though it was on her, the audience growing to a dull murmur. She looked up at Alistair, who beckoned her up with a flick of his wrist. Her father was already halfway up the stairs when he turned around to grab her by the hand and take her with him. Every step seemed to drag on and time was at a stand-still. It felt as though it took an eternity for them to reach the top of the staircase and to be standing only a couple of feet from the King.
"I have heard about the contributions you paid to protecting Denerim." Alistair's honey-colored eyes rested on Cyrion as he spoke. "Your ability to rally the other Alienage residents and aid in creating a militia to defend your home from the Darkspawn is impressive. Ferelden needs more leaders like that, leaders who inspire those around them and put the needs of the whole above their own."
"This is why," he continued, "with the help of some others, I have decided to grant you, Cyrion Tabris, the title of Arl of Denerim."
This time, both Rhyann and Cyrion had frozen in place.
In that instant, the room erupted in chatter. Some were cheering, to see an elf get treated with the same respect and dignity that a human in the same situation would have been granted. Some others, though, were booing in outrage. This mainly consisted of older nobles so stuck in their ways that they didn't care what the person had done, just that they had pointed ears. Others still were just making noise because it seemed the popular thing to do.
Guards eventually had to file into the entranceway to escort some of the more heated individuals from the building if they did not allow their King to continue on with the ceremony. Only two people had to be shown out of the castle, the rest of which crossed their arms in defeat or bit their tongues, but allowed Alistair to continue despite their disagreement to his decision.
"Please kneel before me, Cyrion."
Following the King's orders, Cyrion fell to one knee, his face awash with both shock and awe over the ruling that was made. As it had been done to Jarak before, Alistair tapped the tip of the ceremonial blade to each of Cyrion's shoulders.
"From this day forth, Cyrion Tabris, you will be Arl of Denerim. Your family will inherit Arl Urien's fortune and estate here in Denerim just as you have inherited his title. Please rise."
Cyrion rose from his kneeling position, though with a bit of trouble due to his age. His shaky stance was still lending to the amount of disbelief the man was facing, even now after turning and looking at the audience, who, in turn, looked back at him with the same curiosity.
Rhyann hadn't budged an inch since the announcement was made. Even when Alistair allowed the sword to rest against his leg and turned to her in order to say something, her eyes remained wide in shock and her body, unable to move. She constantly told herself to move or to pinch herself, because this surely had to be a dream. No elf would ever be granted such an esteemed position, but just then, in that same day, both her father and Lyna were given titles that they could never hope to achieve.
"This isn't so much of a boon as it is justice, but I haven't forgotten about you, Rhyann." Due to Rhyann's eyes fixated on her feet, she couldn't see the expression on the King's face as he spoke, nor was she sure that she wanted to. "For the crimes he committed, Vaughan Urien will be publicly executed, and you are officially pardoned from what he had you convicted of."
This time, Rhyann hadn't been stuck in place, mystified by what was given to her. She was quivering as tears began to well up in her eyes at the promise of having justice paid for the multitude of crimes committed against her and those closest to her. It wouldn't bring Nola or Nelaros back, but it would help her to sleep a little easier, knowing that Vaughan wasn't getting away with a slap on the wrist for what he did. Inevitably, her emotions got the better of her and she did begin to cry a bit. The sight of the tears prompted her father to wrap his arms around her tightly in his own approval of the ruling.
"Thank you, Alist—er—Your Majesty. Your generosity knows no bounds."
Trumpets began to play again, signifying the end of the coronation ceremony. An announcement was made regarding the coronation ball, which was to occur within the ballroom of the Royal Palace shortly. Guests were encouraged to head over and partake in the festivities. While many were still quite steamed about his more controversial ruling, no one seemed too keen on passing up an opportunity to eat and drink at the King's expense. This prompted a wave of people cramming in through the opulent double-doors leading into the castle all at once. That was, after the royal procession had receded to attend to some small matters before they joined their guests.
Rhyann had become quickly swept up in the sea of bodies. Her small frame was being pushed around like a rag doll by those eager to partake in Alistair's alcohol and food. Quickly, she had lost sight of her father, making her fall into an internal panic as she struggled to keep pace with the others. Attempting to back track to return to him was futile; the crowd was moving at much too fast a pace for her to weasel through the crevices their shapes made in order to find him.
In a sudden unexpected, though nonetheless swift motion, the elf girl felt a tugging at her left arm and was pulled from the direct flow of traffic. In an anxious attempt to find her bearings, she whipped her head from back to forth. Directly beside her was that Sophie woman she had met in that brief time she had spent with the Wardens. The blonde had her arm laced around the smaller girl's upper arm so that she would not become swept up by the others once more.
"You're one of us now. A noble, that is. Stick with me and you won't become lost in the lifestyle." Sophie's eyes were trained ahead of her as she continued walking into the ballroom.
Rhyann responded with several quick nods. She didn't know this woman well enough to be able to judge her intentions. However, she did know that Lyna put faith in her. A realization such as that gave her reason enough to trust that Sophie wasn't doing something selfish and underhanded, even if she had the look of someone who frequently did things of the sort.
After a short walk, they found themselves in the ballroom. Along the walls, tables were lined with red and gold cloths. On the tables sat highly-polished silver platters, cradling some of the most delicious-looking delicacies that money could buy. Servants flitted around the room at lightning speed with trays carting around goblets of an aromatic wine, or tankards of robust-colored mead. Soft music was emanating from a string quartet on the far side of the ballroom, making it easy for anyone who wished to dance to do just that.
Sophie had led Rhyann near one of the tables, yet still close enough to the dance floor to observe the nobles who were spilling onto it in a haphazard fashion. A servant ventured close enough for the human woman to retrieve two goblets from their tray without asking for them. She handed one to the elf, while demonstrating proper goblet-handling techniques herself. "Always stick with one kind of drink when you're at these functions. That way, no one knows how much you really had and cannot accuse you of being a drunkard." Sophie punctuated her speech with a deep swig of her wine.
Taking her conversational partner's drink of her wine as a signal, Rhyann attempted to follow suit. She held her lips to the rim of the goblet and let some of the burgundy liquid flow into her slightly ajar mouth. The flavor was rich and sweet, but with a pungent undertone that caused her to lurch away after only a slight sip in order to cough.
Giggling to herself, the other woman patted her on the back until the coughing fit had subsided, then pointed towards one of the nobles in the crowd: a woman with dark hair and a look on her face that made it look as though she caught a whiff of something offensive. "That's Bann Esmerelle, a nasty piece of work if you ask me. She's always trying to shove her daughters on the sons of upper nobles in the hopes of one day marrying into the throne. She appealed to father once to have a marriage arranged between her eldest and Jarak once. She's probably angry that one of her chances to have her daughters marry up into the world is going to die on your behalf, so stay away from her." Another drink.
"Do you know about all the nobles?" Rhyann's curiosity got the better of her, prompting her to ask her question. She refrained from taking another drink just yet.
The response she received was an apathetic shrug. "I suppose. When you're one of a very limited selection of daughters of a Teyrn, you learn to keep your eyes and ears open as to avoid potentially disastrous betrothals. Only one of us could be promised to Cailan, and the other would be given to the highest 'bidder'. I'm sure you can guess which category I fell in." A grim look crossed Sophie's face. Her remedy was a deep drink from her quickly diminishing goblet.
Though Rhyann couldn't be sure, she couldn't help but feel as though Sophie had been alluding to something far deeper than just her distaste in noble politics. She set her mostly full goblet down on a nearby table and rounded her current companion to look at her more directly. "Did you love King Cailan and are upset that he married Queen Anora rather than you?"
"Love Cailan?" Sophie burst out into a raucous laughter. Several nearby heads turned around at the sound, wondering what had caused her to be filled with such humor. "Maker, no. Cailan was sweet and well-meaning, but that was about it. I just don't like Anor—oops! I'm not supposed to say that aloud. She probably has spies watching us and will have me assassinated for saying such things about her."
"Speaking ill of my wife, I see."
Both women turned quickly from the shock, only to find Alistair standing behind them. He wore a bemused smirk as he stood there with his hand propped against his hip. His stance and facial expression made it clear that he was not upset in the slightest by what he heard, but rather, wanted to watch them writhe in embarrassment.
"I told you how I felt about the marriage once Eamon and Anora conspired about it. Jarak doesn't like it either; we both agreed that you should have locked her up in the dungeons and ruled solo. She'll just turn into the tyrant her father was."
Alistair sighed. His shoulders slumped in a defeated manner in the process. "I'm not too crazy about it either, but I need to think of what's best for Ferelden. It's not easy, having the whole weight of a country on your shoulders, you know." The disappointment on his face quickly shifted to a look of exuberance. "How did I do at the coronation? I've been practicing sounding commanding and official all week. Your brother told me on more than one occasion that I sounded about as noble as a wet kitten, but I'd like to know what you thought."
Whatever was left in Sophie's goblet was quickly poured down her throat in a quick motion. Her goblet was then set next to Rhyann's. "You didn't sound like a wet kitten."
"Really?"
"You sounded like a wet, hungry kitten." Sophie didn't bother to wait around to see his response. She turned on the balls of her feet and headed off in the direction that one of the servants carrying the trays of wine was heading.
"I didn't think you sounded bad." Rhyann stuttered a bit as she spoke, but remained clear enough to get her point across. "It sounded like you've been giving speeches to the masses your whole life."
With the elf girl's vote of confidence in him, Alistair's face beamed happily. "I'm glad you thought so." He chuckled slightly, his hand running along the top of his head in the process. His eyes shifted from hers momentarily in order to lock on to the table. Something caught his attention, as he reached out and grabbed one of the platters. This particular platter held an assortment of cubed cheeses, each in a variety of interesting hues of yellow or orange. "Have you tried any of this? They're really good." As he spoke, Alistair moved the tray closer to her in order to give her a chance to grab one.
At the King's hospitality, Rhyann plucked one of the cubes from the others. The one she grabbed was squishy mellow orange cube. She sniffed it, taking in a slight woodsy scent that she hadn't anticipated from cheese. She glanced up, noticing the look on the King's face as she did so, causing her to slip the whole cube in her mouth. Its subtle nutty flavor rolled across her tongue pleasantly, taking her on a journey to somewhere far-off in the moments that the dwindling hunk of cheese remained in her mouth before she swallowed. "It's really delicious. I've never tasted anything like that."
"It's my favorite one." Alistair set the tray down as he spoke. His face was affixed in a permanent smile that lent to the image of the kind, benevolent king that he was trying to paint himself as.
From the far side of the room, the string quartet began to play a fast-paced song that got many of the guests to start dancing in full merriment. Alistair peered over his shoulder at the spectacle briefly before turning towards the girl and jerking his thumb behind him. "Why don't we go dance with everyone? It's no fun spending the whole party hiding in the corner."
Hastily shaking her head, Rhyann backed a step up. "I don't think it's such a good idea." The prospect of dancing made her uncomfortable for a couple of reasons. Her main reason was that the dance floor was so crowded by so many people she didn't know. From the idea alone, her anxiety started to kick up. The second reason was possibly the more important one. Had it been someone else who asked, Rhyann may have humored the proposition. But, as it was, Alistair was not only the King, but his wife frankly scared her more than she ought to. "It would upset Queen Anora if we did. Wouldn't it?"
"Upset her? Why?" The man looked back at the crowd once more before gently grabbing her by the wrist. "All we'll be doing is dancing. She's welcome to join in. C'mon. It'll be fun." Without waiting for approval, Alistair headed off into the group, toting Rhyann along behind him.
Under Alistair's guidance, Rhyann reluctantly joined in on the dancing. At first, she found it awkward and unusual. She was unfamiliar with many of the dances that the nobles seemed to be doing, which, in her opinion, made them look like preening birds on display. But, Alistair seemed just as unfamiliar with the steps as she, making the butterflies fluttering around her stomach calm down considerably. The rest of the Wardens and their friends soon joined in on the dancing. All of which seemed to not care if they looked silly as they routinely switched partners with one another, or tripped over their own feet.
Rhyann remained at the coronation party until well after midnight. She and Cryion eventually offered their goodbyes to everyone, even at their urging to stay and enjoy a little more wine and food and dancing. Their moonlit walk back to the Alienage was an unusual one. Guardsmen did nothing, when typically, they'd be clapped in irons for being outside of their walled-off quarter after dark. A privilege of their newly appointed title, most likely. Not only that, but it would be their last night sleeping in that shack they had called home for so long.
