Special thanks to my beta, mackillian, who is one hundred kinds of awesome. At least. Go read her stuff. It's awesome, too. :)
Chapter 11 – The Bastard King
Alistair twisted the ring in his fingers, running his thumb over the smooth gold band and the hard edges of the large square-cut emerald that jutted out from its surface. It was so much more… ostentatious than the other one that lay in the brown velvet pouch at the back of his nightstand drawer. He stood leaning against the desk in his office, almost sitting on the edge of the heavy wooden surface as he waited. The sky outside was overcast, a cloak of grey covering the unusually brilliant blue of the day before. Although it was mid-afternoon, the room was a wash of shadow, not quite dim enough for candles, but enough to create the sense that dusk had dropped early upon the palace.
He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger and stared absently at the perfect empty circle, willing his stomach to stop churning. There was no going back now. The ring had been Queen Moira's, hisgrandmother's—it was such an odd feeling to think of her in that way. He was secretly glad that Teagan hadn't chosen one of Queen Rowan's. Somehow, it seemed wrong to use something of hers, with her only son burned to ash upon the pyre at Ostagar while he lived on, the Bastard King of Ferelden. Maybe he could persuade the palace historians to refer to him that way in the slews of texts that they were busy producing.
With a sigh, Alistair pushed himself fully upright and tucked the ring back into the rounded wooden box on his desk before placing the box into his pocket. She would be here any minute. He ran a hand through his hair… no crown today, at his insistence. He whispered the words that Teagan had given him to memorize and tried to keep himself from imagining the disaster that would ensue if he threw up all over the future Queen of Ferelden.
There was a soft rap at the door—still enough to make him jump—and he nervously touched his pocket to check that the box was still there. "Come in."
The door opened and Lady Elissa moved forward into the room as the two guards behind her took up positions on either side of the door frame. She dropped down into a deep curtsy, keeping her head bowed as the hem of her dress rustled against the floor. "Your Majesty."
"Rise, please, my lady." Alistair stepped forward and extended his hand to her. Her fingers were cool in his, like the pebbles he had once gathered from the water's edge in Redcliffe, and she raised her eyes to his face as she stood.
"You are too kind, your Majesty."
He released her hand and took a step back. "The honor is all mine, of course."
Lady Elissa pushed a lock of hair back behind her shoulder. She'd worn her hair unbound, and it trailed down her back in a dark wave of curls. She was watching him expectantly. Right. He was supposed to say the formal phrasing now, if only he could remember what it was. He swallowed and clutched at the box in his pocket, struggling to contain the mounting panic that he was about to royally screw this up.
"Right. Well. I guess you're wondering why you're here." Why would she be wondering that, you idiot? Of course she knows why she's here!
Lady Elissa smiled politely and waited for him to continue.
Was he supposed to kneel? Well, it certainly couldn't hurt… Alistair dropped to one knee before her and he was sure that his face matched the pink hue of her dress.
"Lady Elissa Cousland, I, King Alistair Theirin," he said, plowing ahead, grateful to have gotten his own name out correctly, and hoping the rest of the speech would just topple out of his mouth if he didn't think about it, "would like to formally request your hand in marriage, as my queen." There was something he was supposed to do here. The ring!
Alistair fumbled at his pocket, which was now pulled too tight across his bent leg to allow him to slip his hand inside. He shifted his weight and nearly fell over, throwing his hand against the side of the desk at the last minute. His fingers closed around the box and he tugged it free, not daring to meet her eyes. Was she laughing at him? He had never felt more out of place; the king of the stable yard with a woven crown of summer grasses and a throne of straw.
Forcing in a sharp breath, he opened the box and held it out on his quivering palm. He fixed his gaze on the back of the lid. "I offer this ring as a token of my sincerity and commitment beneath the benevolent vigilance of the Maker and his chosen, Andraste, should you find me worthy." Alistair ventured a glance at her face. She wasn't laughing, thank the Maker. No, she was staring at the ring, her expression carefully composed and her eyes holding an emotion he couldn't easily define.
Lady Elissa knelt down as well so that they were nearly equal in height. He was reasonably sure that this wasn't part of the formal protocol that Teagan had drilled into him but, in all fairness, he hadn't exactly been paying attention to her part. Her gaze lingered over his for a moment.
"King Alistair Theirin, I, Lady Elissa Cousland, accept your proposal given in good faith and with the Maker's blessing. As your queen, your people shall become my people, and I take this duty upon myself willingly." Her voice was quiet and clear, cutting through the stillness.
Alistair let go of the desk and wiggled the ring free from the groove that held it in place before setting the box down on the floor near his knee. Lady Elissa held out her hand and he slid it easily on to the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly, thanks to Teagan, he was sure. The emerald at the center looked almost black in the faded gloom.
"Thank you, your Majesty." She stretched her hand out to examine it. "It's beautiful."
"It was Queen Moira's."
Lady Elissa peered at it more closely. "Is this the one she's wearing in the painting where she's standing on top of the chariot?"
Alistair shook his head. "I'm not sure. Teagan would know if you'd like me to find out."
"I confess that I am curious, if it's not too much trouble."
Alistair's knee was beginning to ache where it pressed into the hard floor. "No, no trouble at all." He attempted to rise to his feet with some degree of dignity before helping her up as well. "So, I guess now we, uh, go find Teyrn Cousland and Arl Teagan and let them know that it's… done."
Lady Elissa ran her hands over the wrinkled fabric of her skirts, smoothing out the surface. "Please, lead on, your Majesty."
After a moment's hesitation, he linked his arm in hers. "I think you're allowed to call me Alistair now, at least in private, anyway."
She studied him with that same unreadable expression before nodding. "As you wish, Alistair." He wondered if that was who he really was anymore. "I hope that you will call me Elissa as well. Shall we?" Her voice was bright, a mismatch to what he saw in her eyes.
"Of course, Elissa." The name rolled off his tongue easily enough, but the familiarity it implied still felt like a freshly laundered pair of trousers, constrictive and ill-fitting.
They crossed the room together, the king and the woman who would be his queen, as the shadows lengthened behind them.
oOoOo
Teagan had been positively giddy, sending for bottles of Orlesian wines from the cellars and even Teyrn Cousland—no, Fergus now—had clapped him on the back in welcome. There would be a feast after the official betrothal announcement tomorrow, and Alistair forced a smile to his face until his cheeks ached. Teagan pushed glasses of wine into their hands as they toasted to the future of Ferelden, to the upcoming marriage, to their children, to the continued strength and prosperity of the Theirin line.
Alistair was feeling decidedly more than light-headed as he set his glass down on one of the tables with more care than was actually necessary. This sitting room was Teagan's favorite, and Alistair often found him here late at night while on his way to raid the kitchen's larders. It had been Queen Rowan's, once; her sword was displayed prominently on the central wall flanked by paintings depicting King Maric's coronation and one of young Prince Cailan. Alistair could see the man within the boy, in the cocky tilt of his chin and the bright-eyed confidence of his stare.
"—which will coincide perfectly with the harvest. Don't you agree, your Majesty?"
Alistair swiveled in place to find them all staring at him expectantly. "What? I'm sorry, Teagan, I was distracted."
"We were discussing the timing of the wedding. I was thinking early fall, that should give us enough time to get everything organized without too much delay." Teagan took a large swallow of wine. "What do you think?"
Alistair looked at Elissa, but she merely gave the slightest shrug of acquiescence. "As your Majesty wishes."
He picked up his glass and drained it. "That would be fine, Teagan."
"Excellent!" Teagan set his empty glass down and rubbed his hands together. "Shall we adjourn for dinner? I've had the servants lay out something special in the private dining room."
Fergus finished the last dregs of his wine. "I'm beginning to see why Rainesfere made it through the Blight relatively unscathed. We could have used your tactical skills at Ostagar."
"Yes, I was delayed along with Eamon's forces, unfortunately. But, let's not dwell on that now. Today is a day for celebration. Come," Teagan said, motioning them to follow.
Alistair politely took Elissa's arm and they made their way to the dining room, where an incredible spread of food was being laid out. Teagan and Fergus conversed happily throughout the meal, while Alistair and Elissa rapidly expended their supply of small talk before lapsing into an uneasy silence. She picked at her food, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Alistair pretended to be listening to the other two men, smiling and nodding as appropriate, but he felt as though he should be at least trying to connect with Elissa. She was going to be his wife, his partner in getting Ferelden back on its feet. He'd never been the one to do the talking. It had been Neve who had persuaded their various companions and allies to help them, not him. It had been a little easier to talk to Elissa yesterday when they had been out riding, so maybe they just needed to get away from this. As he ran over the details of yesterday's conversation in his mind, an idea struck him.
"Excuse me, Teagan," he said, placing his napkin next to his plate, "Fergus." He gave the Teyrn a nod as he stood up. "There's something that I would like to show Lady Elissa. If that is acceptable to you, my lady?" he asked as he turned to her, noting the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
She looked to Fergus, who nodded. "Yes, thank you, your Majesty."
Alistair caught the smug look that passed between Teagan and Fergus and suppressed a groan. Did they really think that he was already trying to…? Yes, they probably did.
It was a relief to escape into the hallway. "Shall we?"
"Am I permitted to know where we're going?" She seemed wary. Maker, she wasn't thinking that, too, was she?
"It's a surprise, but it's nothing bad, I promise. Trust me." He offered his arm. "You can't tell me you wanted to stay there for another hour listening to Teagan and Fergus talk about trade agreements with Antiva."
"Maybe I did." Her shoulders relaxed as she gave him a small grin.
"We could go back and join them, if you like? It's not too late."
"We could, but now that we've excused ourselves, it would be awfully presumptuous of us to barge back in." Elissa linked her arm through his. "Besides, you have me intrigued."
They made their way through the twists and turns of the palace corridors with yet another pair of ever-present guards at their heels. Alistair opened the door that led to the stable yard and they stepped outside into the evening air. The torches along the stone exterior were already lit, bathing the yard in a yellow glow. He led them past the stables to a building near the rear of the yard where kennels with spacious attached runs lined the outside wall. The mabari hounds stationed in each kennel bounded forward as they approached and Alistair presented his hand to be sniffed by each dog in turn as they passed. These were not strictly his dogs, but they were all trained to recognize him by scent and to protect him with their lives, if required.
When they reached the door, he pulled it open and the hinges gave a rusty squeal of protest. The rush of warmth that met them smelled distinctly canine. This had been one of his favorite places to hide when ducking the lessons that Eamon had arranged.
"After you, my lady." He was pleased to see that she didn't seem bothered by the fact that the hem of her dress, a delicate shade of pink like the edges of an apple blossom, was now covered in dirt from the yard outside.
Elissa gave him a puzzled look, but stepped inside, followed by Alistair, who closed the door behind them. The room was long and rectangular, with kennel space running along most of both sides. There was a small table and chairs and a neatly made pallet in the corner of the main room. An old man with a scraggly wisp of a beard, mostly white but with hints that it had once been red, shuffled out of one of the kennels at the back. His scowl melted into a warm smile as he bowed. "Your Majesty! Always an honor."
Alistair smiled back. "Good evening, Finlay. This is Lady Elissa Cousland."
The kennel master bowed again. "Welcome to the royal kennels, my lady."
"Thank you kindly."
Finlay rubbed his hands on the back of his trousers as he turned his attention to Alistair. "Have you come to check on 'em again? They're growing into right proper little pups, now."
"I have, indeed. Will they be ready to leave their mother soon?"
"Aye. Another week or two perhaps. She's already started wanting to come out for hunts with the rest of the pack again, so won't be much longer now." He beckoned them with a bony hand. "This way."
Finlay directed them towards one of doors. "Just through here, your Majesty. Had to move 'em into one of the larger runs this week."
"Thank you, "Alistair said as he opened the door and ducked inside, leaving it ajar so Elissa could follow. The room was small and square, with simple white-washed walls, and an ample bedding of straw covered the floor. A wooden flap in one of the walls provided access to the runs outside and heap of five or so puppies lay curled up asleep in one corner. The large female mabari stood up as they entered and looked them over with a cautious snort.
Alistair held out his hand for the dog to sniff. "You remember me, right? This is Lady Elissa. She's here to see if one of your pups will choose her."
Elissa looked at the pile of puppies, and then at him, not saying anything. Maker's breath, but she was hard to read. She then calmly held out her hand for inspection as well, and the mabari snuffled at both of them before giving a throaty bark and settling back on her haunches in a relaxed posture.
Alistair gave a small chuckle. "I guess that means it's okay."
"Your M—Alistair, I'm at a loss for words." She walked closer to the puppies and glanced back at him before sitting down. "Thank you." It was kind of comical, the contrast between her finery and the mess of straw beneath her. Alistair joined her, sitting down with his back against the wall.
The puppies seemed to come to life as they realized that there were new people—new smells!—in their home, and Alistair and Elissa were soon surrounded by pups bouncing around and showing off. Every inch of exposed skin was sniffed, licked, and inspected, making Elissa giggle. It made him think of Neve; it had been the first time her had heard her laugh, as well, when that mabari she had helped at Ostagar had come racing down the road after them. Alistair wrestled playfully with a puppy that had latched on to his sleeve. The fabric came apart with a loud tear and the pup pranced away victoriously with his prize.
At last, the puppies began to tire. The one that had ripped Alistair's sleeve had settled possessively by his outstretched leg, resting his chin on Alistair's knee. He hadn't intended to be chosen himself, but it was oddly comforting in a way he hadn't expected. Elissa's dress was spotted with paw prints and blotches of drool. A puppy lay sprawled out on top of her skirts, her paws sticking up in the air, as Elissa rubbed her exposed belly. The others had flopped down into their communal heap once more and their mother sauntered over to check on them, sniffing their fur and nosing them into a position that she seemed to find suitable. Alistair was amused to see that Elissa's hair was flecked with bits of straw and there was a large smudge of dirt on her cheek. If Teagan saw them, he would have a fit, and the thought made Alistair smile.
"She's yours, as soon as they can leave their mother," he said. "And you're more than welcome to visit her whenever you like until she's ready."
Elissa looked over at him and smiled. "Thank you. Truly. This was most unexpected."
"You're welcome." Alistair reached down and scruffed the ears of the puppy resting on his leg. The pup yawned and sniffed, closing his eyes. "It looks like I've got one, too."
"I suppose we should be heading back." She sounded almost reluctant as she gently pushed the puppy off her dress, ignoring the whine of protest. "Oh, hush, you. I'll come back tomorrow. " The puppy gave her a stern look. "I promise." At that, she padded over to join the others.
"You, too, muttonchop. Off you go." The puppy opened one eye, but made no attempt to move. "Come on, now. I have… important trade documents to… Ow! Watch your teeth!" The puppy had deftly nibbled a hole in the knee of Alistair's trousers and was now climbing over his brothers and sisters to lie down on the top of the heap.
Alistair got to his feet and helped Elissa do the same before spending a few moments brushing away the hay that clung to his trousers. They bid Finlay good night and made their way back to the palace in silence, but it was more contemplative than uncomfortable. He walked with Elissa all the way to her quarters, and they paused at the doorway.
"Good night, Alistair."
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, surprised to find her fingers warm. "Good night, Elissa."
As she shut the door behind her, he turned and made his way back to his own chambers. Alistair stripped off his clothes and slipped on his sleeping trousers before collapsing into the welcoming softness of his bed. Despite his exhaustion and relief at having survived the day, he knew that tomorrow was going to be worse. The public announcement of his betrothal. Another speech of Teagan's to memorize and recite. He pulled the blankets over his head like he had as a boy. This was his little fort, with no kings or nobles. Alistair lay like that until the air grew hot and stifling before folding them back over his chest. When he finally slept, he dreamt of the darkspawn that his blood demanded, though that path was no longer his to walk.
oOoOo
Alistair fidgeted, earning a glare from Teagan. Andraste's flaming sword, why did it have to be the hottest day of the year today? He was dressed in full plate armor, not his real armor, but the fancy ceremonial set that he wore for all his public appearances. It sat against different areas than his regular armor and the chafing was uncomfortable, more so in the heat. His stomach felt like a bucket of milk, left out to curdle in the noonday sun.
The Grand Cleric was talking now, blessing the huge crowds that had gathered below the palace balcony. He had already survived his speech, thank the Maker, without making an utter ass of himself, but it did little to quell his nerves. He and the Grand Cleric had rarely seen eye to eye since he had assumed the throne, but she had actually seemed genuinely happy to see Elissa. Before they had all been paraded out into the blazing sun, the Grand Cleric had pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered something in her ear—most likely expressing her pity that Elissa was going to be stuck marrying him.
Elissa was standing stoically at his side in a dark blue dress speckled with tiny crystals, like clusters of stars twinkling in the brightness of the day. Between the two of them, Alistair had no doubt that the crowd was being slowly forced to go blind as they looked at them. He shifted from foot to foot again as the Grand Cleric stepped back and Teagan began to speak. He wondered if suddenly toppling from the balcony would be such a bad thing, really...
Teagan raised his hands in a gesture of triumph and victory. "And so, people of Ferelden, it is my great pleasure to present to you, your king and future queen!"
The crowd roared, a great cheer going up in a wave that crashed over them. Alistair and Elissa turned inward to face each other and he took both her hands. He wasn't sure if it were her hands that were shaking, or his. They had skipped this part during the rehearsal that Teagan had walked them through this morning and, at the time, Alistair had been relieved. There was no escaping it now, though. Elissa's face was a perfect mask of calmness as he leaned in and chastely pressed his lips to hers. The kiss lasted mere seconds before he pulled back, but the enthusiastic response from the masses below was overwhelming.
He hadn't been sure what it was going to feel like, to kiss someone who wasn't Neve. He was just playing the game they wanted him to play, he had told himself last night as he lay worrying, and it didn't have to mean anything. So, why did it leave him feeling hollow and brittle, like an eggshell about to be crushed beneath a careless boot? It was a betrayal, and he felt even worse knowing that it would just be the first of many. Still holding one of Elissa's hands, they turned together to face the crowd and waved. He smiled. He pretended. He did everything they asked of him, as always.
That night, after the feast where he had eaten next to nothing, Alistair scrawled a letter to Neve and had one of the riders woken up to head out immediately. He packed haphazardly, tossing clothes into his knapsack. He paused, and then reached into the drawer beside the bed and tossed the brown velvet pouch in as well. When he had finished, he sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. How was he supposed to spend the rest of his life like this?
oOoOo
Teagan lay half-reclined on one of the narrow sofas in the sitting room, one arm bent behind his head, the other across his chest cradling his now empty snifter of brandy. The past few days had been more successful than he could have ever hoped. Ferelden would soon have a queen and, Maker willing, there would be royal children to follow. He set his glass down on the floor beside him and stretched. He should head off to bed soon. The remnants of his hangover from the previous night still throbbed behind his eyes, although, with the amount he'd already had to drink tonight, tomorrow's was sure to be much worse.
The door to the sitting room creaked open and Teagan forced himself to sit up. "Yes?"
Alistair shuffled in, his hair and clothing rumpled. "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course, what's on your mind?" The poor boy looked exhausted. He'd barely eaten anything at dinner; it was hard not to notice, considering the amount he usually managed to pack away.
Alistair sat down in the plush red chair facing the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees in a weary posture. "I need to get away for a few days."
Ah, so that's what this was about. "To Vigil's Keep, I assume?"
Alistair nodded, and the clenched set of his jaw gave Teagan the distinct impression that he was not so much asking for permission as telling him. "It would only be for two weeks or so at most."
Teagan wasn't sure what they were going to do about this… situation yet. The whispers that had started after the king's last visit to the Keep had been drowned out by the uproar of Eamon's dismissal, and this was sure to stir everything up again. Still, it wasn't as though it was unheard of, really, and the possibility of a bastard or two wasn't necessarily a bad thing, given that the line was still unsecured. Teagan could see the sense of despair bleeding from Alistair's sagging shoulders. If this made him happy, why should it not continue, at least for now?
Teagan reached over and patted Alistair's knee. "I understand. We can manage here without you, although expect to be a bit overwhelmed when you return. The Antivan ambassador may be annoyed by the delay, but I'm sure I can keep things moving enough to keep him happy."
Alistair looked up at him. "Thank you, Teagan. You have no idea what this means to me."
Teagan lifted his glass from the floor and stood up. "No need to thank me. I'm here to do my duty just as you are." He crossed over to the small table in the corner and refilled his glass. "Would you care for one?"
Alistair hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. "Yes, I think I will." He rose and collected the snifter that Teagan had filled, sipping it carefully.
"You did really well today. I'm proud of you."
Alistair gave him a tired smile that was almost a grimace. "I'm just glad I didn't embarrass anyone."
They stood in silence for a few minutes before Teagan spoke again. "So, what did you and Lady Elissa get up to yesterday, or should I not ask?"
"It's not what you're thinking." Alistair set his still mostly full glass back down on the table with a sigh. "I took her to see the new litter of mabari pups to see if one would imprint on her." Seeing Teagan's puzzled expression, he continued. "She told me she'd lost her mabari during the Blight, when she was on the run after what Howe did." Teagan stared at Alistair. "What?"
Teagan drained his glass and put his arm around Alistair's shoulders. "You're a good man, Alistair. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Alistair shrugged his arm away. "It sure doesn't feel like it, sometimes."
"I know it must be hard, getting used to all of this. But, it will get easier. I promise."
"I hope you're right, Teagan. I really do." Alistair walked away to stare up at the painting of Cailan once more. "I wish he was still here, instead of me."
Teagan walked over next to him. "You looked a lot like that, too, when you were a boy. Not the expression, since you never had Cailan's cockiness, but you both have Maric's… charisma, I suppose." He yawned. "Speaking of Cailan, I was thinking that we should have Wynne sent over from the Circle before the wedding."
Alistair's brow wrinkled. "I don't follow."
"Well, Cailan and Anora were married for several years without conceiving an heir. Although the issue could have been on her side, it can't hurt to have you checked over, just in case. There may be something that can be done." Teagan watched the growing anger in Alistair's eyes. Maybe he should have waited to bring this up.
"Right. We've got to make sure I'm fit and healthy before you send me for breeding." His words were clipped and harsh. His mouth opened and closed again and Teagan had the sense that Alistair was holding something back.
Teagan ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Alistair. I don't mean to be callous. I'm just trying to do what's best for Ferelden, you know that."
Alistair's response was quiet and resigned, the anger drained away. "I know. We all are." He looked at Teagan for a moment. "You're a good man, too, Teagan." Then he walked towards the door, stopping to turn briefly. "Go get some sleep. You look like you're about to fall over."
Teagan nodded. "You, too."
After Alistair had left, Teagan staggered off to bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, and dreamt of Cailan and Alistair as boys, sparring in the dusty stable yard. In the back of his mind, he was sure that they had never actually met as boys, but, here they were, so he must have been mistaken. Despite the fact that Cailan seemed to best him each time, Alistair continued to rise from the dirt, wanting to try again. You had to admire that about the boy. He was going to do all right, that one.
A/N: I promise we'll be back to see what Neve has been up to next week. ;)
Thank you so much, as always, to everyone who has taken the time to add this story as an alert, a favorite, or leave a review. Getting those messages in my inbox totally makes my day. Also, since I can't PM you, I just wanted to say a special thank you here to both Judy and ebilsushi for your reviews. :)
