Thanks, as always, to mackillian.

Chapter 10 – The Illusion of Choice

Alistair viciously tugged off his hideous purple leggings—they stuck and pulled at his leg hair—before dumping them in an unceremonious heap on the floor. He was never letting Teagan choose his clothing again. The shirt and jerkin joined the pile and he kicked them all under his bed with a deliberate sweep of his foot. He was too exhausted to do much more than pull on his sleeping trousers and collapse into bed. The fire in the hearth had been banked down for the night leaving the room dimly lit.

He exhaled loudly in relief and yanked the covers up over his shoulders as he rolled onto his side. The cool blankets were heavenly against his aching feet and he wriggled his toes appreciatively. Neve's side was empty. She had never even slept in this particular bed, but it was still indisputably hers. Alistair rested his hand against what should have been her pillow. Was she lying there in that same spot so many miles away, right now, thinking of him? His mind ghosted along the starry road to Vigil's Keep, to the bed they had shared, and the drowsy comfort of her tiny form curled into his chest.

As tired as he was, his thoughts jostled and twisted, bumping him with sharp jabs that kept him tossing restlessly. Tomorrow was going to be a continuation of tonight's farce, although thankfully without the dancing and the crowd of people… and the ugly clothes. He'd agreed to a morning ride with Lady Elissa, lunch with Lady Rosalin, and an afternoon meander in the gardens with Lady Isla. What could possibly be more fun?

At least he had managed, after a heated discussion with Teagan, to have Lady Habren removed from the group of candidates. Her smile had that same spider-like quality as Morrigan's; it wasn't if she was going to devour you some day in your sleep, but when. He rolled over again with a grunt of disgust. Never mind the fact that she was sixteen. He had no idea what Teagan had been thinking with that one.

Alistair fumbled a little as he pulled open the drawer in his nightstand. His fingers found the piece of parchment within and he drew it out and laid it next to him on the bed. He leaned on his bent arm, propping his head up with his hand, and smoothed out the creases. There wasn't enough light to read the words, but he'd read them enough times that he didn't really need to see. Neve's letter had been brief; a trip to Amaranthine, the repairs on the Keep were coming along, Weisshaupt had offered the Fereldan Order a yearly stipend to help them rebuild, darkspawn attacks that were still brutal and random.

Her writing wasn't overly neat, but he knew that each stroke would have been made carefully and deliberately. He remembered, ages ago now it seemed, Neve sitting next to Leliana by the campfire. The way her brow crinkled in concentration, her expression fierce. The painstaking scratch of the quill on the parchment. The cursing. Leliana's gentle voice murmuring corrections and encouragement. More cursing. At the time, how he had wished that he had thought to show her first, so that it could have been his shoulder that she leaned against as she practiced.

The details of her letter had been cool and distant, with no mention of his visit or even the question of when he might return. But, she had signed it 'Love, Neve,' despite everything. The blob of ink at the top of the 'L'—she had hesitated there, the tip of her quill resting against the paper as she thought—but, she had chosen to write 'Love.' He couldn't deny the flutter of hope that squeezed his heart.

Maker, how he missed her. Maybe it had been a mistake to go after her, but he was getting so tired of being told what he could and could not do. But, having had those precious few days, the ache of her absence was more noticeable than ever. He would go again after all this wretched betrothal business was over. Alistair carefully refolded the letter and laid it back in the drawer.

Why did she have to make him king? They could have been there at Vigil's Keep together, rebuilding the Wardens. Instead, he was here, surrounded by people, but lonelier than ever. Except for Teagan and a few others, they all just wanted things from him: reduce these fees, send more guards here, give us more money. No one cared about him for the man that he was, for him as a person rather than just a figurehead. He rolled over to sink his face into the empty pillow next to him. She still loved him. He would cling to that and, somehow, he would get through another day.

oOoOo

Alistair arrived at the royal stables in a mad panic. He was late. Weren't people supposed to wake him up and make sure he was on time to these things? He skidded around the corner in an extremely undignified fashion, stopping short as Teagan, Teyrn Cousland, and Lady Elissa stood staring at him. Teagan shook his head with an exasperated sigh, although his eyes glinted with amusement.

"Your Majesty." Teyrn Cousland bowed deeply.

Lady Elissa murmured the same words and bowed as well. She was dressed in tight fitting trousers of a muted grey with a matching doublet.

"Sorry, I'm late. Shall we?" Alistair gestured at the horses that the stable master was readying across the yard. They had only a few hours before lunch and he was looking forward to the ride and escaping from the confines of the palace, even if only for a short while.

The four mounted their horses with ease and cantered out of the stable yard followed by a small unit of guardsmen. The horses' hooves clattered on the cobblestones as the people in the streets moved aside to let them pass. Few recognized him without the ceremonial armor he usually wore for public appearances, and he was pleased that they were able to gallop through the gates of the city with minimal fuss.

Outside the walls, refugees from Lothering and other towns that had been swallowed by the Blight had constructed a maze of ramshackle housing from any materials they could salvage. These people barely bother to look up as they rode by—they were just more nobles who didn't care. Women filled jugs from a filthy trickle of brown water that ran next to the settlement. Children in tattered clothing dodged and shrieked through the mud, seemingly oblivious to the poverty around them. Alistair's cheeks flushed with shame. He forced himself to unclench his teeth. If he had to get married to get the Landsmeet off their asses and help him do something about this, then he would. He glanced at Lady Elissa and she met his eyes only briefly, but he saw the horror nearly hidden behind her carefully masked expression.

In sharp contrast, the grasslands outside the city were green and lush with early summer growth, broken up by splashes of pink and yellow flowers. Alistair pressed his horse faster, willing the mare to just run, to take him as far away as she could. Lady Elissa thundered along next to him as Teagan and Teyrn Cousland fell further behind. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid and the wind teased tendrils free to curl around her face.

"Care to race, my lady?" He pointed off into the distance. "To the copse of trees, there?"

She gave him a hint of a grin, her eyes flashing. "As his Majesty wishes." Lady Elissa urged her horse forward, pulling ahead of him easily.

Alistair tightened his grip on the reins and leaned forward. "You're not going to let her win, are you?" he whispered into the mare's ear. She snorted. "Well, then, let's show her what we can do." He tapped the horse's flanks with his heels and her muscles tensed beneath him as they raced to catch up.

He gained ground gradually as they galloped until he was only a length or two behind Lady Elissa. She glanced behind her, and then pulled up lightly on the reins with a barely noticeable movement, allowing him to surge ahead. Alistair felt a twinge of disappointment curl in his gut. She let him win. Neve would have never just let him win.

She brought her horse down to a trot as the shelter of the trees grew close. Her cheeks were pink from the wind and the exertion of the ride. "That was exhilarating. Thank you, your Majesty."

"No, thank you, my lady, for the win that did not belong to me." Alistair smiled. "I yield to your superior horsemanship." He halted his horse and dismounted. Once she had brought her horse to a stop, he offered her his hand and helped her down as well.

They left the horses to graze as they each drank deeply from their water skins. Alistair flopped down in the grass next to one of the trees. Maker's breath, it felt so good to be outside and free. The sun was warm overhead with only a few wisps of cloud smeared across the blue sky. The trees were fully leafed now, providing them with some respite from the sun's glare. Lady Elissa sat down in the grass as well, managing to look dignified in a way that he had yet to master. She dropped her gaze to her lap as Alistair struggled with what to say other than: Hey, isn't this betrothal business the dumbest thing ever?

The awkward lull was broken by the arrival of Teagan and Teyrn Cousland. They exchanged greetings as they, too, dismounted, but they rapidly wandered away, giving them the illusion of privacy. All right, he was on his own. He could do this.

Surprisingly, she broke the silence first, just as he opened his mouth to spout some sort of platitude about the weather being unseasonably warm for this time of year. "Thank you kindly for the invitation to ride today, your Majesty. It was a most unexpected and welcome blessing."

Alistair had to choke back a snort. As if they both didn't know the game that was being played here. The whole thing was just ridiculous. He seemed to be using that word an awful lot of late. "The pleasure is all mine, Lady Elissa. I'm happy that you were able to join me." Like she'd had a choice.

She glanced up with the hint of a shy smile that could have been genuine before demurely dropping her eyes to her lap.

Alistair leaned back against the tree trunk and wished he was better at these games the nobility played at. If Neve were here, she would just speak her mind. Maybe he should just cut to the chase himself, protocol be damned. How was he supposed to make this sort of decision without even being able to have a proper conversation? He took a deep breath and let his mouth take over for his brain. He was good at that, at least.

"Can I ask you something? I'm sorry if this comes out badly."

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Of course, your Majesty. Anything."

"Did you have a say in being put forth as a… candidate?" Andraste's flaming sword, how he hated that word.

Lady Elissa's eyes widened slightly and he could almost sense her debating how much to say.

"Please, be honest. You have my word that anything you say will not go any further." Alistair ran his fingers through his hair and hoped he hadn't just made a complete mess of it.

"Well, yes, I suppose I did. Fergus would never force me to do something that wasn't in my best interests."

"And, is being the Queen of Ferelden in your best interests?"

"The Cousland family has always been loyal to the Crown and Ferelden needs strength and stability to recover." She plucked absently at a blade of grass and pulled it to pieces before meeting his eyes. "If I can help achieve that, in whatever small way I am able, then that is more important than anything else."

The echoes of Arl Eamon's numerous speeches on duty thundered through his head like a runaway horse.

"What would you do if you were free to choose?" The words jumped out his mouth before his brain could stop him.

Lady Elissa gave him another puzzled look. "I have never been free to choose, your Majesty." Another blade of grass met its demise, leaving her trousers flecked with green. "I have been brought up to be an asset to whoever takes me. I speak fluent Orlesian and Antivan. I play several musical instruments. I am proficient with the courtly dances of several nations. I can run a household of nearly one hundred servants. I am familiar enough with Ferelden nobility and politics to speak intelligently on the matter." She listed off each item with a detached matter of factness that was chilling.

Alistair pushed his back into the rough bark, trying to ignore the grumbling voice in his head. He hated these masks they all wore. How was he supposed to know what she was really like when she refused to show him any more than this superficial nonsense? He decided to be blunt. Maker help him if Teagan overheard.

"Can I be honest? I don't care about any of those things. I mean, I do, they're useful and all, but they really don't mean anything to me. You saw the refugee encampment that's sprawled outside the city walls. It's awful and it gets worse every time I see it. But, I can't get the bloody Landsmeet to do anything about it because all they care about is trying to wheedle out more money and resources for themselves. Until I make them feel that the country's not about to fall to pieces, they're not going to do anything for those people." Alistair sighed. "I'm sorry if I offended, my lady."

Lady Elissa looked up at him thoughtfully. "No offense, your Majesty. I appreciate your candor. You're a very curious king, you know that? Nothing at all like I expected."

Alistair plucked a few blades of grass and methodically destroyed them until his trousers matched hers. "Well, don't let it get around, but I have no idea what I'm doing."

She laughed and he glanced up, startled. "And what makes you think anyone else does?"

"It's just that I wasn't raised in this life, like you were. I spent my childhood in the stables before being sent to the Chantry to train as a templar. During the Blight, N—the Hero of Ferelden—made most of the decisions. I just tagged along, really. Sometimes, I think I'm going to wake up and this will all have been some sort of maddening dream. Or nightmare. I'm not sure which yet."

Lady Elissa crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees. "Well, clearly, the Maker intended that you should walk a different path than the rulers before you. You have an advantage that the rest of the nobility don't have. You've travelled all over Ferelden; you've seen how your people actually live. I admit that I was very sheltered growing up. It wasn't until… I had to leave Highever that I had any kind of understanding of what things were really like for most people."

Alistair thought for a moment before he spoke. "Where did you go? During the Blight, I mean. I know about what Arl Howe did… to your family, and I know that both you and your brother were presumed dead until after the Battle of Denerim." He saw the grief that ghosted across her face, despite her efforts to hide it. "If you want to tell me, that is. I don't mean to pry."

She continued to pick at the grass near her feet as she talked. "I left Castle Highever in the midst of Howe's attack. We were all unprepared for what happened. I left them all behind. My father, my mother. Everyone else was already dead." Her voice dropped down to a flat monotone. "I had my mabari with me. He's the only reason I made it to Denerim alive, although he died, too, before I reached the city. I went to the Chantry, I didn't know where else to go or who to trust. I didn't tell them who I was and they didn't care. I was another pair of hands to be used."

Alistair could see the tears gathering. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, please, don't continue. I didn't mean to—"

She wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. "If Fergus hadn't turned up looking for me, I would have stayed, I think."

"Your Majesty?" Teagan's voice startled them out of the moment. "We should start our ride back now."

"Of course, Teagan. Thank you." Alistair brushed the bits of grass from his clothing as he stood up before stretching out a hand to help Lady Elissa up as well. Her hand was cool against his as he pressed his lips briefly against her delicate fingers. It felt strangely intimate and he pulled back as quickly as manners would allow.

"Thank you for the privilege of conversing with you, your Majesty." She bowed her head, but he caught the faintest glimpse of a smile, a real one.

"Thank you for the conversation as well, my lady." He was surprised to find that he actually meant it.

oOoOo

Lunch with Lady Rosalin was an unmitigated disaster, but possibly the most fun he'd had since coming to the palace. She never stopped talking, and her thoughts blathered out faster than he would have thought possible. He couldn't help wondering if this is what he had sounded like after Duncan had recruited him, when the prospect of being a Grey Warden consumed every thought and every hope. She managed to spill not one, but two different courses all over the elaborately embroidered tablecloth, apologizing all the while.

It was easy to talk freely with her, when he could get a word in edgewise, and it was a welcome distraction. However, as much as he liked her, Alistair had to admit that she wasn't exactly queenly, unless he was prepared to rule perpetually covered in gravy.

The afternoon with Lady Isla was agony. She seemed to flinch away from his presence as they walked through the gardens, her eyes fixed on the path at their feet. His questions were met with monosyllabic responses that he had to strain to hear. It was as awkward as trying to have a heartfelt conversation with Sten and it took all his fortitude to not run screaming in the opposite direction. At the same time, he couldn't help feeling sorry for her, having Bann Ceorlic as a father. He shuddered. There was no way he was prepared to have that man as his father-in-law.

Eventually, he gave up on his attempts at small talk and decided just to enjoy the walk. The heat of summer wasn't upon them yet, but the days were warm enough that most of the palace flower beds were in bloom. Ancient trees towered over them and their branches formed a broken canopy over the winding paths, providing patches of shade like puddles in their path. His thoughts wandered in the direction that seemed to be unavoidable these days. With Lady Rosalin and Lady Isla dismissed as prospects, that left only Lady Elissa. It was done. It had to be her. This stranger was going to be his wife, his partner, his lover. He blushed red at the thought and was grateful that Lady Isla was completely oblivious to his discomfort. It could be worse. This was going to be good for Ferelden. He could do this.

oOoOo

Teagan propped his feet up on his desk and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach. The latest trade agreement from Antiva lay discarded on his desk as he massaged his temples slowly. It had been a long day. Alistair had done well, though, better than he had expected. Hopefully, he would come to the decision that Teagan wanted without too much more prodding on his part. Where was that boy anyway? He sat up and stretched.

There was a short rap at the door and Alistair entered. Teagan rose to his feet and bowed. "Your Majesty."

"Sit, please, Teagan. Ugh, what a day." Alistair threw himself down in the chair across from the desk.

Teagan dropped back into his seat as well and shuffled the thick pile of parchment towards Alistair. "Here's the new trade agreement that the Antivan ambassador brought. The tariffs on salt are still too high. I was thinking we could persuade them to lower them if we increased the percentage of wool and textiles that we're currently allowing for export. Although, then we'd—"

Alistair cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? I don't think my head can handle any more today."

"Of course." Teagan squared the pile, tapping the edge against the desk. "So, how did it all go today?"

"I don't know. Okay, I guess?" Alistair sighed. "It looks like Lady Elissa is the best option."

"I completely agree, your Majesty." Teagan tried to hide the depths of his elation. At last, the boy was showing some common sense! He'd had a rather desperate bout of nerves this afternoon after hearing Alistair laughing with Lady Rosalin over lunch. Elissa Cousland was the only sensible choice, and he was utterly relieved that Alistair had come to the same conclusion on his own. Fergus had already agreed to the betrothal arrangements, so there would be no lengthy negotiation there.

"What do we do now?" Alistair looked at him, unsure, and Teagan couldn't help seeing the little boy that used to trail after him whenever he came to Redcliffe, with those wide eyes taking everything in.

"Well, I'll let Bann Ceorlic and Bann Sighard down easily, and then make the arrangements with Teyrn Cousland. It would probably be best if you spoke with Lady Elissa yourself, however."

"Do I ask her to marry me? That just seems absurd. It's not like she can say 'no.'" Alistair stood up and walked to the window even though there was nothing to see but darkness.

Teagan stood up, too, and joined him. The tiniest sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky. He put an arm around Alistair's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Yes, you have to ask her. It's only proper."

"Is there a ring or something I'm supposed to use?"

Teagan pretended to think. "I believe there's a ring of Queen Moira's that would be suitable." It had already been cleaned and was sitting in a box in the drawer of his desk. "Let me look into it immediately so it will ready for you tomorrow. No sense wasting any more time, is there?" He patted Alistair on the back and dropped his arm to his side.

"No," Alistair said softly. "I suppose there isn't."

A/N: Thank you again for your review, Judy. It's very much appreciated. :)