A/N: it should be noted for the purposes of this story, Alistair did not "need to talk" with Elissa following the Landsmeet. Thanks for reading!
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"And now the imposter is off to the Anderfels," he said. "I half expect a letter to arrive from Weisshaupt any day demanding to know what I've done. You can bet that if anyone will know a fake Warden on sight, it would be them." -Chapter 3
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Tearing the Veil
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Chapter 10
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"Alistair," Elissa's wide smile greeted him as he returned to her chambers.
She sat upright on one side of the large bed, an array of pillows fanned out behind her. To her left, Fergus sat in an armchair that had been dragged from its location and placed beside her bed. Immediately to her right, her mabari curled up against her side, head resting on his paws while Elissa lazily stroked his ears.
Traitorous dog! Alistair's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes surveyed the hound's spot. Didn't that mutt remember that had been Alistair's side?
As if reading his thoughts, the hound's eyes opened and met his. The King almost swore the mabari flashed him a grin before pawing at the bedding, laying further claim to the place. The antics earned a soft laugh from his owner and an affectionate pat on the head.
The blasted dog was worse than his old cat!
"Fergus has just been telling me of all the progress he's made at Highever," she beamed and Alistair sank onto the mattress by the foot of the bed.
"Indeed," her brother replied easily. "Once you've fully recovered, I'll take you back home to see it."
Elissa beamed.
Alistair felt a rumble of unease in the pit of his stomach as he listened to her rapid round of questions she launched at her brother. All the specifics she remembered: each tapestry or hall; every member of the staff she couldn't recall seeing that night; all the nearby freeholders they regularly called upon; she inquired after them all. The King felt as a third party to the exchange, unfamiliar with the items, places, and families. He could only hope he masked his discomfort enough to fool the siblings.
She would return to Highever. Of course, she would want to see her home, he reasoned. But only for a visit, right? And as Alistair watched Elissa's growing excitement at the prospect of setting eyes on her home for the first time in over a year, he found himself ever more desperate to ensure she had reason to return.
He buried a hand in his pocket, nervous fingers enclosing around the object he held like a lifeline.
"I would be most happy to accompany you," Alistair found himself interjecting awkwardly, feeling ever more the foolish stable hand in the beat of silence that followed.
Had he not been paying attention to where the conversation had lead? He mentally chastised himself, unsure if he was worse as a pining man, or as a monarch.
"We would be honored for you to visit Highever, Your Majesty," Fergus answered in an even tone.
Alistair uttered his best attempt at a gracious response.
Elissa's mouth fell open. "Wha- No," she gaped. "No, the two of you can't do this!"
"Can't do what?" her brother asked.
"The two of you," she flicked her hand between the pair, "you can't be all titles and formalities around me. Not when it's just the three of us."
Her mabari lifted his head at her comment.
"Or four," she amended with a faint blush.
Fergus offered an amused smirk with Alistair. "Rather impertinent little chit, isn't she?"
Alistair felt the tension fade. His grip loosened on the golden weight and he removed his hand from the confines of his pocket.
"I wouldn't have her any other way," he grinned as his eyes locked with Elissa's.
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Days later the Teyrn returned to Highever after extracting a promise from his sister to visit once she had fully recovered, which she readily agreed to provided Alistair would be joining her.
The morning following his departure, Elissa drifted lazily out of sleep, the warm, heavy remnants of dreams encircling her even as she attempted to pull herself into consciousness. Yawning, she stretched, cataloguing faint aches she had gained after falling asleep in the armchair. Reluctantly she finally opened her eyes…
And found a pair of eyes staring intently back at her.
"You were watching me sleep again," she observed, pulling the askew dressing gown over the exposed night robe.
Silence.
She swiped the fragments of nap from under her eyes. "Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to."
"Not a one," Alistair answered.
He was situated in the chair facing her, his elbows planted on his knees, back hunched over, hands clasped at his chin in that distinct 'thinking' pose she was so familiar with.
"You've done little else these past weeks."
He shook his head, dismissing her mild rebuke.
"I have something for you," he began, reaching a shaking fist into a pocket.
Elissa straightened her posture. "Yes?" she asked softly, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. His nervousness was catching.
Alistair reached out, drawing her hand to his. His fist rested above her outstretched palm.
He sat there, hovering between recklessness and caution. In truth, he supposed it wasn't brashness that spurred him on; this was what he wanted-what he'd wanted for weeks, months even.
A small inner voice of reason that sounded suspiciously like Wynne insisted he shouldn't worry, but as the seconds inched forward Alistair felt ever more the nervous soldier standing by the campfire: "All right, I guess I don't really know how to ask you this."
"Yes, I… ah, I want you to have this," he lurched forward, pressing the item into her palm. He tucked her fingers around the metal. A trickle of sweat skimmed down his brow. "I mean, that is if you want it."
Elissa looked down at their joined hands as nervous anticipation and understanding churned in her mind.
"I - I wanted to get something nicer, of course," he added in a hurried breath. "But, this was all I could afford at the time."
Slowly he withdrew his hand that was covering hers. Her fingers uncurled like a flower's petals greeting the spring, and resting on the center of her palm was a thin, gold band.
Elissa simply stared at the object, scarcely moving, and not making a sound.
"I know it's not what you deserve, that is, I mean, you deserve something much better. As it was, I saved coppers for months and this was the best I could manage."
She couldn't meet his eyes; she was utterly transfixed on the ring. Carefully, with such delicacy as would befit a ring of the thinnest glass, she held turned the object over in her hand.
The ring's surface was dull and scratched, though there was evidence of an attempt to restore the ring's original sheen, the array of nicks and indentations marred the finish. One side of the ring was dented, almost as though someone had pinched the ring tightly with their thumb and forefinger. It was simple and damaged. Hardly the proper ring befitting the daughter of a teyrn.
"I meant to give it to you long ago," Alistair's voice had taken on a high, nervous pitch. "Before the Landsmeet even. But there never seemed to be the right moment, and I kept thinking that if I waited just a little bit longer that I would find this one perfect moment when everything would just fall together for just a second, and we could have that one single perfect moment."
Alistair exhaled sharply, self-disgust apparent. "But the longer I waited, the less likely it seemed that I would get a chance. And so right after the Landsmeet, I planned on asking you after- after the Siege, but…"
Elissa's eyes flicked up to his face, wordlessly indicating her understanding with a slight nod.
"You must know," he whispered, allowing himself the luxury tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Surely you must know how much I love you. The weeks after, they were- they were impossible. And you may consider this horribly selfish of me, but I can't bear the thought of you not being there… here… with me… ever."
Elissa blinked repeatedly, a failing attempt to keep rebellious tears at bay, the emotions of all that had passed catching up to her in a rush. Her eyes fluttered back to the ring even as Alistair thumbed away the tracks of tears.
"So," she forced her gaze to his, prompting him, "you're asking me… what exactly?" Her hand closed around the ring, and forced a grin to cross her lips even through her tears.
"Blast it, I'm doing this all wrong," Alistair shook his head. "I'm asking you to marry me, which you very well know."
She laughed lightly.
"So… will you?" he couldn't help but feel nervous.
"I will," she answered seriously. "Of course I will." She pressed the ring into his palm and held out her hand for him to slide the ring on.
He hesitated. "I can get you something nicer. Something more befitting your rank… and mine," the afterthought came awkwardly. His rank, how odd. Then he felt more foolish than ever, of course he should have gotten a better ring, one that she deserved. "You deserve the world."
"Alistair, no," she insisted with a strong shake of her head. "This is perfect. This is the one I want."
His eyes met hers, and as he slipped the golden circle onto her finger he whispered, "This is the one I want, too."
-o-
Elissa strode to the wash stand; eyes fixed on the bottle perched near the edge. The small glass sat apart from all the others, while the various sizes of colored containers held perfumes and mouthwashes, contents to enhance the smell and taste, this lone bottle was a foreigner, a stranger, and today was the last time it would be tolerated.
The day had finally arrived: her last draught of restorative.
Soon it would all be over. After one last torturous round of bitter liquid metal it would all be over.
Elissa had dressed for the occasion, opting to mark her last day of aided healing by forgoing the dressing gowns she had favored as her muscles recovered. She had impressed herself, managing to struggle into the gown and get the laces half up before resorting to call one of the maids for assistance.
The last time, she reassured herself.
She stared down her crimson foe, crumbling the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. Abruptly, she threw the bunched material from her, and reached for the bottle. Dropping the cork aside, she drew the potion to her lips and tossed her head backwards.
Elissa held her breath as she willed herself not to smell, not to taste, just drink. Despite all attempts to the contrary she could still taste, still smell. And it was vile, far worse than the smell of months on the road, worse than a chalice of darkspawn blood.
The last drop slid down her throat and the glass shattered at her feet. Elissa dropped her head between her knees, breathing deeply to battle the violent desire to expel the potion from her body. At length the urge to heave lessened, and though still panting, Elissa frantically snatched the vial of mint water*, desperate to remove the terrible taste of copper…
"Maker, is that a dress?" Alistair startled as he paused at the threshold to her bedchamber later.
Elissa shrugged, bending to spit the mint water into the washbasin before turning to face him. A near hour of repetitive rinsings with the wash had brought moderate success. The worst of the potion's taste had lessened, but the remaining bitter metallic edge remained.
"This should come as no surprise," she reached for a towel to pat her mouth dry. "My father was a teyrn- I wasn't constantly raised in armor after all."
"I know, but," he stammered. "I've never seen you in a dress before."
"Had you met me at Highever, you would have. Constantly in silks and rarely in leathers."
"To the talk of leathers already," he groaned, "and it's not even noon. You are a horrid tease."
She smirked. "I'm going to resume my training soon," she used the topic to transition into her announcement. She casually tossed the cloth on the washstand with the statement before turning back to Alistair, folding her arms together expectantly.
He nodded. "Alright."
Elissa's eyebrows rose dramatically. She had been expecting resistance, with either her relative health or his concern for her safety as the proffered excuse. But Alistair merely reached for one hand. His thumb brushed against the warm metal band, his attention lingering on the token. His anxiety could wait to be discussed another day.
"Come on," he gave her hand a light tug, "there's a man who's been at the front gate since daybreak demanding an audience."
"Capitulating to their demands already?" she teased.
"From what Eamon tells me, I think it might be best if we both meet him."
"Let's be off, then," she allowed him to lead her through her quarters into a long corridor. He rather awkwardly offered his arm which she silently took without comment. Courtly manners could be polished over time.
Halfway down the hallway, Zevran appeared. After passing along the location of their visitor, the Antivan continued with them, following behind the couple several paces.
As they approached the door, Elissa felt the familiar prickling of a third presence.
"A Grey Warden, then?" she asked Alistair lowly.
"From the Anderfels, apparently," he confirmed. "And not just any Grey Warden, but an emissary from Weisshaupt. Eamon tells me the man answers to 'Ottokar.'"
"'Guardian of the inheritance,'" Elissa reflected aloud, "how appropriate."
Alistair sniggered, "I certainly hope it's a name of the Wardens' giving, rather than his own."
A glance over his shoulder confirmed Zevran was no longer with them. Once he and Elissa had entered into the chamber, he tipped a slight nod towards one particular dim corner; and though he could not see the Antivan, he knew the acknowledgment was returned. Proper introductions were made between the King and the visitor, and Elissa watched from a slight distance.
"Ser," Alistair began smoothly, the weeks of training and audiences with nobles producing some yield, "how fortunate to find a fellow Grey Warden in Ferelden. Progress in Amaranthine continues; I imagine you will want to journey there shortly.
"Most convenient," Ottokar agreed gruffly. "But my business should not take me farther than Denerim."
Zevran's eyes narrowed to thin slivers, suspicion twisting his features. He surveyed the foreigner suspiciously from his corner. A tall man, hardened and imposing. His dark beard did little to soften the angular cut of his face, and instead made him look even more severe. The man's armor was of an unfamiliar northern design and glittered menacingly, like a fresh drop of blood hanging from a blade. He still processed his sword and shield even while in the presence of a monarch, a foolish oversight Zevran made note to mention to both Alistair and Eamon. But the assassin was more concerned about the dagger at the man's hip.
The assassin quickly took account of the number of guards present and their stations by the doors.
"Pardon me," the emissary's focus fell on Elissa, standing several paces away from Alistair. "I did not realize we had a sister present." His tone, however, reflected no surprise at the revelation.
"My apologies," Alistair hastened to make amends, holding out his hand towards Elissa which was accepted without comment. "May I present our fellow Grey Warden and the Hero of Ferelden."
Ottokar approached the pair, his footfalls heavy and confident. He was a man on a mission, an agent from a distant Warden Fortress sent seeking something…
Or someone.
Zevran realized with a start who the Ander's quarry was and began slinking out from his post in the shadows.
Ottokar halted abruptly before the King and bowed lowly to the pair. To anyone standing a further distance, it would appear that the Warden was simply paying respect to the King and the one who defeated the blight. Even the pair failed to notice how the man's body was angled slightly toward the King, as though he would rather endure the humiliation of bowing to the man over the woman.
Alistair looked quizzically at Elissa for guidance; Wardens bowed to no nation and even for a servant to bow so deeply would cause a moment's pause. While the two of them exchanged uncomfortable glances, Zevran focused on how the man's lips were moving. The elf inched closer, moving with a cat-like stealth to position himself behind the foreigner.
"What is done..." Zevran could barely make out the Ander's low chanting.
Zevran's hand rested upon the hilt of his dagger. Neither Elissa nor Alistair could make out the words, and Elissa moved towards the visitor, begging him stand and greet them as an equal.
"-is undone."
The trap had worked. Discomforts through excess courtesy dictated one of them seek to relieve the tension. How fortunate that the target had been the one to respond.
"The price is paid…"
The Warden Emissary reached for the dagger at his side, lunging for Elissa before he could complete the verse. She staggered back as Zevran sprung forward, leaping up to place his own weapon at the man's throat.
Elissa watched in shock as the scene unfolded in a blur of frantic activity. Zevran attempted to wrestle the much larger man to the ground while two guards moved to assist . Alistair took her by the arms, shouting orders over his shoulder to take the man alive, then checking to ensure the weapon had not reached its mark.
As guards hauled the man away he levied a withering look at Elissa, leaving her to wonder what crime he decided her guilty of. Even after the man was hauled away and Alistair and Zevran hovered with anxious questions, she still felt the heated fury of his eyes.
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*The mint water above is based on a mint mouthwash from Bankes' Herbal (1525). The mouthwash is actually red wine vinegar poured over mint sprigs, but mint vinegar doesn't have quite the same ring, nor does it suggest a tie to something more pleasant like rosewater, so I took liberates.