That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 12

"start spreading the word"

Alistair was completely expecting his visitor to be one of the many people he was convinced only existed to make his life difficult, but was pleasantly surprised to see the ginger hair of his uncle. "Teagan!" he exclaimed, hugging the man strongly. "What're you doing here?"

Teagan frowned, resting his hands on the shoulder of the king who would always be a rambunctious stable boy to him and holding him an arm's length away. "I heard you weren't feeling well."

Alistair huffed, shaking himself free of the man's grasp. "Did Anora tell you that?"

"No," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the accusation. "Fergus Cousland did."

"Where is he?" Alistair quickly asked at the mention of the man who seemed to be impossible to reach.

"I ran into him while leaving the Free Marches after the tourney. It seemed he had some business in Ostwick. He told me you may need an old friend around."

"There's… something I need to tell you," Alistair began, fussing with his hair and turning a new shade of pink.

"The Hero of Fereldan is alive," Anora announced as she entered the room with Seneschal Bran in tow.

"What?" Teagan looked to Alistair who nodded in agreement; upset that his dramatic reveal had been stolen. "Where is she?"

"In the castle," Anora once again spoke before Alistair could.

"How…?"

"We don't know," Alistair swiftly interrupted, looking triumphantly at Anora, who seemed unaware of the game they were playing. "All we know is that she doesn't remember anything. The Blight, her family, me…"

Teagan scratched at his beard in thought. "Alive…" he murmured to himself. "Who knows about this?"

"Just the four of us in this room for now." Anora turned to Alistair. "That's what I came to talk about. Should be make a formal announcement? Introduce her to the public?"

"No, she'd be bombarded. I don't think she's ready for that."

"Then what should we do?" Anora asked impatiently. "She's already been seen by half our staff and gossip spreads quickly among them. If you wish to keep her presence a secret then we need a plan."

"We could refine her to her room or a small portion of the palace," Bran suggested.

"No!" Alistair disputed. "She's not a child being punished; she should be free to roam wherever she likes."

"Perhaps a disguise of some sort?" Teagan chimed in. "Change her hair color and…"

"No!" Alistair repeated, getting irritated by these options. Besides, he rather liked the color her hair already was.

"Then what, Alistair?" Anora folded her arms. "If we don't do something soon it's going to become very apparent that we're hiding something and you know how rumors can quickly become much worse than the truth."

"That's it!" Bran exclaimed as the others looked at him curiously. "We'll start a rumor and spread it amongst the people ourselves. It will make the theory that the Hero of Fereldan is actually alive seem like a dull banality in comparison."

"But it would still have to explain Elissa's being here even if they don't know who exactly she is," Teagan added.

The group was silent for a while until Anora spoke up. "We'll say that Alistair has taken a mistress, and he's scoured Thedas to find one that looks just like the late Cousland." She smiled at her husband proudly. "It would even explain your recent absence."

Alistair wasn't nearly as happy with this solution. "That makes me sound like a crazy person who's obsessed with his ex-girlfriend!" He looked to his uncle for support. "Teagan?"

But Teagan stared at the floorboards in embarrassment as he said quietly, "People would probably believe it…"

"Teagan!" Alistair scolded as he felt the sting of betrayal.

"Then that's what we'll do, yes?" Bran moved on. "I can start spreading the word today."

"If everyone else thinks this is a good idea…" Alistair sighed. "Are you sure, Anora? This is going to reflect on both of us."

Anora's face hardened in resolution. "I'm sure."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair found Elissa on a bench in the garden, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place concerning her. She smiled when he sat down next to her and he wondered if he should warn her about the planted rumor. Surely she would hear it from someone. "Elissa, I…"

"Here," she cut him off and eagerly thrust something into his vision. It was a rose: a vibrant shade of red with velvet petals and thorns that Elissa's small fingers aptly avoided. His mouth fell open but only awed silence fell out. "I hope it's okay that I cut it." She held the blossom against her nose. "It just…" Her cheeks almost turned as red as the flower. "It reminded me of you."

Alistair still couldn't form words that would express the sentiment this gift stirred in him. He managed to finally shut his mouth and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek as a thank you, but she turned at the last second and their lips met once again. The same feeling rushed back to Alistair of how right it felt to have her close to him and how his hand fit perfectly on the small of her back. As their lips released from one another's Alistair decided that just a second of that feeling was worth another split lip, but he soon realized he wouldn't have to accept that fate as Elissa's fingers swiftly dug into the hair on the back of his head and pulled him back to her again. He didn't fight back and wrapped both his arms around her waist and she put her other hand on the top of his chest. For as long as they remained that way Alistair was positive there had never been a brighter or warmer day in Fereldan. The flowers had never bloomed so much or smelled so sweet, and the king had never been happier.

After some untold amount of time his eyes blinked open and caught sight of two guards standing on one of the second floor balconies overlooking the garden area. One nudged the other and appeared to whisper something to him before they both laughed together. Alistair and Elissa were clearly the focus of their attention and it dawned on him that he may have fought so hard against Anora's rumor not because it was nonsense but because it was a little too close to the truth. He pulled away from her and frowned, the heaviness of reality forcing its way past his pleasant thoughts. "Elissa, we…"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, turning to face away from him, though he could still see the flush on her face. "I shouldn't have…"

"No!" Alistair grabbed her shoulder and turned her back to him more forcefully than he planned to. "You don't have to apologize. I just need to tell you… you might hear people saying things."

"Saying things?" She looked to the side and chewed on her lower lip. "I think I understand."

Alistair knew she couldn't possibly understand the convoluted situation they were currently in, but he struggled with a way to explain it that wouldn't send her running for the hills. Clearly she still cared about him and he knew his feelings for her hadn't waned for a second in the last ten years, but there were so many other variables in play. He had a wife and a very public job; she was unaccustomed to an entire world that knew her as a hero. He suddenly found himself wishing he was back in the Blight, when they were both nobodies who answered to no one. After all, he understood Darkspawn a lot more than politics. "It's just that…"

"I understand," she insisted more decisively. "It was inappropriate for me to… It won't happen again." She stood and walked back toward the castle doors. Alistair's heart lurched after her in distress that what she said might be true, but when she stopped at the stone arch and glanced back at him he knew there was still a chance it wasn't.